Page 10

Chief

I pulled Cora’s truck to the curb, killing the engine as I took in the full scope of the disaster in front of us.

“Jesus Christ.” The Wilkins’ place was a goddamn nightmare. The kind of hellhole that nobody, especially a kid, should be living in.

The yard, if you could call the overgrown patch of weeds and trash a yard, looked like a junkyard had vomited all over it. There were broken appliances, beer cans, and what appeared to be the rusted remains of an old motorcycle littered across the brown grass. The house itself was a single-story shitbox with a sagging roof, peeling paint, and at least two windows covered in duct tape and plastic.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I glanced over at Cora. “This is where your kid’s been living?”

Her face had gone pale as she stared at the house. “I had no idea it was this bad,” she whispered. “My god, Mason.”

I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Stay in the truck. I’ll handle this.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “He knows me. He’ll be scared if it’s just you barging in there.”

She had a point.

“Fine, but stay behind me,” I insisted, already climbing out of the truck.

We picked our way across the yard, avoiding broken glass and what might have been dog shit, though I didn’t see a dog anywhere.

“This place should be condemned,” I muttered as the wood groaned under our weight when we started up the front porch steps.

As we approached the flimsy front door, a man’s slurred voice carried through. “—ungrateful little shit! Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was just—” someone started to reply, only to be cut off by what sounded like a fist connecting with flesh.

Cora gasped beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. “Beckett.”

There was a crash inside, then glass breaking which was quickly followed by the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle.

Fuck this shit.

I didn’t hesitate. Stepping in front of Cora, I lifted my leg and drove my boot into the door right beside the handle. The wood splintered with a satisfying crack and the door flew inward, banging against the wall.

I stormed inside and stopped dead in my tracks.

What the fuck?

I lifted a hand to cover my nose. “Jesus!” I hissed. The stench of stale cigarettes and booze was strong.

The next thing I noticed was the teen boy on the floor, arms raised defensively in front of his face. And standing over him was a hairy potbellied fucker in a stained wife-beater with his meaty fist drawn back, ready to deliver another blow.

My blood started to boil.

The man’s head snapped around in our direction, his bloodshot eyes widening.

“What the fuck?” he slurred, finally registering that I’d just kicked in his fucking door.

My eyes darted between the kid on the floor and the asshole ready to lay a beating on him.

Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, wrapped my hand around his throat, and slammed him against the wall.

“Beckett!” Cora rushed past me, dropping to her knees beside the boy.

“He okay?” I asked, keeping my focus on the pathetic excuse for a man struggling against my grip.

“Yeah. I think he’s okay,” she answered shakily.

Turning back to the asshole who thought it was okay to put his hands on a kid, I snarled, “How ya doing, Gerald?” I tightened my grip on his throat. “Want to put your hands on someone, motherfucker? Try putting them on someone your own fucking size.”

His face was turning an interesting shade of purple, but I wasn’t done with him yet. I loosened my grip just enough to pull my fist back, then drove it straight into his nose. There was a satisfying crunch as his cartilage gave way. In seconds, blood was spewing from his face, onto his already filthy tank.

“My nose!” he screamed, cupping his now crooked honker.

Pussy.

“ Don’t like it when the tables are turned, do ya, Gerald?” I released my hold on his neck and he crumpled to his knees.

“I’m calling the cops,” he threatened, his voice nasal and weak.

I couldn’t help but laugh. What did he think would happen when the cops showed up and saw the kid? “Yeah, let’s do that. So they can see what you’ve been doing to the boy.” I pointed to the fresh purple bruise forming around Beckett’s eye. “Then they can look at this shithole and charge you with neglect too.”

Gerald’s watering eyes narrowed at Beckett. “You little prick. Look what you’ve done.”

What the kid had done? Was he fucking crazy?

Fuck that noise. Grabbing him by his greasy hair, I drove my fist into his face again, then followed with a shot to his ribs that had him wheezing.

“Baby,” I called over my shoulder to Cora, who was helping Beckett to his feet. “Need you to help the kid pack up his shit. He ain’t staying here no more.”

“You can’t take him!” Gerald protested.

In that moment, as he struggled to get up on his feet, I had to admit, he had a lot more fight in him than I’d expected. It didn’t matter though. He wasn’t getting anywhere near the kid again.

Cocking back my arm again, I delivered another blow that sent him sprawling back to the floor. “Shut the fuck up before I gut you like the pig you are.”

His mouth snapped closed, survival instinct finally kicking in. He watched, seething, as Cora led Beckett down a short hallway, to where I assumed the kid’s room was.

Once they were out of sight, I crouched down beside Gerald and pulled my Glock from its holster, pressing the barrel against his sweaty forehead. His eyes went wide, and a wet spot formed on the front of his shorts before dripping down onto the floor beneath him.

“Seriously, Ger? You pissed yourself?” I shook my head in disgust. “This is what’s going to happen, Ger. Can I call you Ger?” I pressed the gun harder against his skull.

He nodded rapidly, tears mixing with the blood on his face.

“Good. Now, that boy,” I gestured with the gun in my hand toward the hallway where Cora and Beckett had disappeared, “is no longer your concern. If you come anywhere near him again, I’ll put a bullet in your fuckin’ head.” I emphasized my point by pressing the barrel against his head again. “You got me?”

Gerald nodded again, a whimper escaping his lips.

“Good.”

When the sound of footsteps coming up the hallway hit my ears, I quickly holstered my weapon and stepped away from Gerald’s crumpled form as Cora and Beckett appeared in the doorway.

I looked at my woman first. She was upset but seemed to be holding it together. The kid, on the other hand, looked like he’d been through hell. His eye was swelling, lip was split, and he had a half-filled garbage bag clutched to his chest.

“Ready to go?” I asked, looking between them.

They both nodded, but I didn’t miss the way Beckett’s eyes kept darting nervously between me and Gerald.

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout him anymore, kid.”

I turned back to the bleeding man on the floor. “Remember what I said, Ger.”

He closed his eyes and nodded frantically, probably praying we’d leave before I changed my mind about not killing him.

“Glad we understand each other.”

Turning back to my woman, I motioned to the door.

Nodding, she took hold of Beckett’s hand and pulled him behind her.

I followed them out the door and into the truck.

“What now?” Cora asked, her voice small as she looked over at me.

I started the engine, feeling the weight of two pairs of eyes on me. This wasn’t how I’d planned to spend my morning, but I’d be damned if I left that kid in that house for another minute.

“Now… we go home.”