Page 106

CODY
My fist fliesinto Rick Hatchen’s face like a bullet, sinking into skin and meeting bone. I hear a crack, but it’s not enough. I punch again. Again. Again.
“Cody!” Clay’s voice rings somewhere in the background, somewhere I can’t hear. Somewhere rules and reality mean nothing.
My knuckles slam into the bastard’s jaw again.
“Cody, stop!”
This time, the yell is matched with two hands hooking under my pits. I’m being peeled off Rick Hatchen. His upper body, that I’d been holding upright with a fist in his collar, crumples into a bloody heap.
I try to wrestle free of my brother.
My eyes are red with blood-lust.
He hurt her.
He put his hands around my woman’s throat.
Death isn’t enough.
Torture isn’t enough.
“Calm down, Cody. Or you’ll be thrown in jail along with him.” Clay’s voice is calm in my ear. No sense of panic. No urgency. Just a dry, pointed observation. “Stop.”
“Would you stop if it were Island?” I huff, glaring into my brother’s face.
His eyes narrow at the mere thought.
Freaking hypocrite.
“You’ll rot in jail for this,” Rick Hatchen murmurs, sitting up again and cringing in pain.
I guess I didn’t hit him enough if he can still move his arms and legs.
“You better pray we don’t share a jail cell then,” I growl. “Or I’ll finish the job.”
He’s got a busted lip, an eye that’s so bruised it can’t even open and blood all over his mouth. It’s not enough. I want to drag this abusive clod into the shadows and break his nose. Break his hand. Break his neck.
I don’t care if it costs me my career. My future.
He hurt her.
Clay stares at me with a hint of curiosity. “Since when do you lose it like this?”
I meet my brother’s eyes, struggling to breathe through the cluster-crap of emotions swirling in my chest.
Clay sighs and shakes his head. “You want to beat him some more or you want to comfort Clarissa?”
At the mention of her name, I snap out of my red-filled haze.
Wrenching my arms free, I whirl around. “Where is she?”
“In the car.” He gestures behind him. “We shielded her from most of… the bloodbath.” He surveys me. “But I’m sure she heard the sounds. In fact, hearing it might have been more gruesome than seeing it.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not sorry.”
“Didn’t say you were.”