Page 60 of Hard Rock Heat

"You like Asian food?" I asked. "Maybe someChinese?"

His eyes lit up. "I know just the place. They've got amazing take-out, and they'refast."

Damon was right. We barely had time to wash up, put on our clothes and get the plates and cutlery ready, before there was a knock at the door. Damon was in the kitchen getting paper napkins so I went to answerit.

A man stood in the hallway. I paused, taken aback. He didn't look like a delivery boy, and he didn't carry any bags in his hand. He was older, with greying hair. He narrowed his dark eyes atme.

"Can I help you?" I asked politely, wondering if he was some sort of solicitor orcanvasser.

"You can let me in," he said. His breath smelled of whiskey. Warning bells sounded in myhead.

"Is the delivery guy here?" Damon asked as he came out of the kitchen. "Let me give you some cash for a tip." Damon saw the man in the doorway. Hefroze.

The man spotted Damon at the same time. He pushed his way past me roughly, forcing me to step aside. I was too shocked by the rude behavior to sayanything.

"Nice place," the man sneered, looking around. "Still doing well foryourself?"

This wasn't the deliveryboy.

"What are you doing here?" Damonreplied.

Shivers went down my spine at his voice. Cold, chilly, but with a simmering undertone. Damon's fists clenched at his side,shaking.

The man pinned Damon down with a frightening familiarsmirk.

"That's no way to speak to yourfather."

Chapter Eighteen

When the rudeman identified himself as Damon's father and I saw Damon's reaction, it might have been the right time to beconfused.

Instead, I remembered our previous conversation over greasy burgers. We'd talked about turning into our parents. Damon's expression had grown dark. I'd asked him if his dad was the reason he'd lefthome.

"My father… is not a goodman."

I backed away from the door. I didn't know exactly hownot goodwas not good, but I didn't want to take anychances.

"I asked what the fuck you're doing here," Damon said again. That same darkness was back in hiseyes.

My heart was in my throat, gaze darting back and forth between the two of them, waiting. Anticipating. I didn't know how awful this was going to get, but I knew it wouldn't begood.

"Can't I visit my eldest son without needing a reason?" His father wandered further into the apartment, walking over to the living room. He touched everything, trailing his fingers along the back of the sofa, picking up a magazine from the end table and pretending to flip through it. As if he had every right to behere.

He tossed the magazine haphazardly back on the table. Damon growled. His father whistled when he saw the collection of vinyl on the wall. "Impressive."

"How much?" Damon asked. I didn't know what he meant, but from the tired tone in Damon's voice, I could tell this was a question oftenasked.

His father turned his attention back to Damon. He ignored me completely, as if I wasn't there. I preferred it that way. Damon's father, with a sneering curl to his lip, made me apprehensive. As unpredictable as Damon was, I had a feeling this man could be set off by the slightestthing.

"One hundred," the man said, not pretending he wasn't aware of the meaning of Damon'squestion.

"Are you fucking with me?" Damon snorted. "I'm not giving you a hundred thousanddollars."

My mouth dropped open,aghast.

"You're going to give me exactly what I want," his dadsaid.

"And why would I do that?" Damonretorted.