Page 61 of Hard Rock Heat

"You're not the only son I can ask," the man pointedout.

Damon's eyes turned deadly. "You go near Ian and I'll kill you." Damon's voice was terrifyinglycold.

"More threats?" He narrowed his eyes at his son. "You've always been disrespectful, boy. I see time hasn't changedanything."

"Respect is earned," Damon spat. "And its not a threat. It's a warning. You go near Ian and I will beat the shit out ofyou."

A shiver went through me at Damon's words. It didn't sound like a boast or an exaggeration. In that moment, I had no doubt Damon was itching to do just that — put his fist through his father'sface.

Damon laughed incredulously. "Get the out of my house or I call thecops."

The man smirked. "You tried that once already, remember? Didn't work out so well for you, if Irecall."

Damon grunted, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "What is it now? Gambling? You in debt?" It was Damon's turn to sneer. "Or do you just need to support youraddiction?"

"Does it matter?" he replied. "You give me the money and I'll goaway."

"Right," Damon said. "And how many times have you promisedthat?"

"Do you not have the money?" His father raised an eyebrow. "Spending it all on fancy condos and cars?" For the first time, he looked at me. I shrank back, my skin crawling at the sinister look in his eyes. "Or all you spending all your money onwhores?"

Damon sped across the room and grabbed his father by his shirt collar, cocking back one fist. He got right up into his face. "Get the fuck out of my house or I swear togod—"

"You'll what?" his father taunted. "You never learn your lesson, doyou?"

With every muscle in his back and shoulders tensed, Damon slowly lowered his fist. His didn't ease his grip on thecollar.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "But this is the lasttime."

His father put his hands up, conceding. "Last time," hepromised.

With his grip still on his father's collar, he briskly walked him backward towards the door. Damon shoved his father through the doorway. "After I wire the money, I never want to hear from youagain."

"You give me what I want, and this will be the end of it." He straightened his shirt and pretended to brush off hisclothes.

Damon slammed the door. His breathing was rough and heavy, as if he'd been through amarathon.

The both of us were silent for long moments. Damon didn't say a thing. I approached him carefully. I laid a gentle hand on his back. He didn'tturn.

"So that was your father?" I askedslowly.

Damon chuckled darkly, head bowed. "Yeah. That was Gareth Drake. Great way to meet the in-laws, right?" he said, voicehoarse.

My heart didn't even flutter at the implication. It just squeezed in my chest, aching forDamon.

"Has he been doing this for long?" I asked. "Asking formoney?"

"Years," he said. "When we left home I thought I'd never see him again. Then we started getting bigger and more famous. The fucker appeared one day with an ultimatum. When Ian saw him…" Damon leaned his head back. "I nearly killed the bastard," he admitted. "Cameron and Noah had to pull me back. I don't know how I didn't end up in jail for assault. August took care of it somehow. Our father disappeared. For awhile."

Damon finally turned. His green eyes were pained. "Don't tell Ian," he said. "I don't want him toknow."

"He doesn't know your father is back?" Iguessed.

"No. And I want to keep it thatway."

It sounded like blackmail. His father threatened to go to Ian. Was that all it was? Damon protecting his brother? Just like I was protecting Faith? I could understand where Damon was comingfrom.

"Fuck." Damon exhaled noisily. He went quiet for a moment before shouting. "FUCK." He slammed his fist against the door. I jumped and startled back a handful ofpaces.