Chapter 13
Christmas with the Ex: I Gave Her A House, She Gave Me A Bullet
HORSE
Knife and I stand on the walkway outside the fancy-ass townhouse complex Dee conned out of me in the divorce.
The whole place looks like it was built to impress people who care about stupid shit—white stone exterior, tall, black-trimmed windows, little manicured shrubs lining the front like soldiers guarding over-inflated property value.
Even the sidewalk is pretentious, sealed so glossy it reflects the sky.
Dee’s unit sits on the right half of the duplex—two stories, stupid little balcony that she never uses but insists she “deserves,” and a wreath on the door that looks gaudy and expensive.
The part she actually lives in with Caleb and her lowlife brother Mark is the main floor and part of the upstairs—the nicer half.
The unit beside her—that I foot the bill for—she rents out.
Dee bragged once about how “empowering” it is to have passive income.
I remember thinking the only passive thing about her was the way she let men rotate through her pussy like it was the damn front door to the local community market.
Knife knocks once, just loud enough to rattle the glass panel. Dee yanks the door open, eyes already narrowed, lips puckered like she sucked on a lemon. The longer I look at her, the more I wonder what I ever saw in this woman.
“You’re too damn early,” she snaps. “We agreed on a time for you to get Wyatt. That’s when you need to be here—and that is not now, asshole.”
I smile, but it’s a mean one. “I’m early because I didn’t get my son last weekend thanks to whatever bullshit you had going on. So, you owe me, Dee. I want my boy now.”
She scoffs. “You always were a bastard.”
“And you were always a bitch. I was just too blind to see it back then.”
Her nostrils flare, making her face—which is caked in makeup—look even uglier. At one time, Dee was a gorgeous woman. To some, she might still be. Yet all I can see when I look at her now is how ugly she is on the inside. It bubbles over and shines through her outward appearance for me.
“Fine. I’ll let you take him early, but don’t make a habit of it—”
A man stomps into view behind her—beer belly hanging over his jeans, stained gray T-shirt that’s probably older than Caleb, thick neck, dirty ball cap shoved backward on his head. He smells of sweat and cheap hops even from here.
Mark. Well, this is just perfect.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” he demands, puffing up like a toad ready to croak.
It takes effort—actual physical restraint—to keep myself from grabbing him by that filthy shirt and choking the life out of him right on Dee’s welcome mat.
I force a steady voice. “I’m here to pick up my son.
That’s all. Not that it’s any business of yours, Mark.
Although I see you’re still freeloading off Dee. Some things never change.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Mark snaps. “I’m living here to help her out. She’s nervous about being alone, since her fuck-up ex deserted her and left her to take care of her son without protection.”
I roll my eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t fall out. “I left because she was spreading her legs for half the damn state.”
“You asshole!” Dee screeches. “I did not!”
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s see … first there was that prick at the service department where you took the Lincoln Navigator—that I bought you—for oil changes.”
“Yeah, she definitely got her oil changed there,” Knife laughs, but I don’t take my eyes off Dee.
“What was his name, Dee? Benson or some shit like that.”
“Ben, and—”
I cut her off with a hand. “Then there was Ray, the mailman.”
Knife snorts. “Don’t forget the two prospects we kicked out after they made their Dee sandwich and bragged about it all over the club.”
Dee glares daggers. “Fuck you, Knife. Does Rebbie know the kind of scum you’re hanging around today?”
Knife shrugs. “Rebbie doesn’t know I was seeing you today, but since she talks to you every day, I figure she talks to scum daily and wouldn’t mind me being here.”
“Nice,” Dee bites out. “You were once a friend, Knife. You don’t have to be an asshole.”
He folds his arms. “You had a man who bought you anything you wanted, didn’t cheat on you, treated you better than you deserved—and instead of appreciating it, you fucked around on him, even with his own men. You didn’t have to be a cunt, but you were.”
“Watch how you talk to my sister, you fucking asshole,” Mark snarls, stepping closer. “Or you and I will have problems.”
Knife’s grin turns cold and eager. “Bring it on.”
He wants Mark to swing—wants the excuse. As much as I would love that, I have to shut it down.
“Stand down, Knife.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
He grunts, but he takes a step back.
Mark turns his beady eyes on me. “You’re lucky my sister allows you to even see my nephew after the shit you’ve pulled.”
I tilt my head, studying just how fucking stupid he really is. “What have I done exactly?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You know.”
“No,” I say calmly. “I don’t. So, feel free to tell me. And while you’re at it, you want to explain why I got reports you were in my territory last week? Because I’m pretty damn sure you were warned never to show up there again unless I know and have a man on you.”
Both Mark and Dee go stiff. A flash of panic sparks across their faces—quick, but not quick enough. The hope that maybe Dee wasn’t involved dies a swift death. Motherfucker.
“You don’t own the whole damn town,” Mark mutters.
“Show up there again,” I say lightly, “and they won’t find your body.”
His eyes widen. “Is that a threat?”
“That’s a promise.”
Before he can try to grow a spine, a little voice cuts through the tension.
“Daddy!”
Caleb barrels into the room—dark hair sticking up like he ran here full speed, big brown eyes just like mine, wearing navy joggers with little dinosaurs on the knees, light-up sneakers, and a red holiday sweatshirt with a T-Rex holding candy canes.
I step through Dee and Mark while they’re distracted and scoop Caleb up.
The second his arms wrap around my neck, my eyes fall shut.
God, this kid destroys me in the best of ways.
“Hey, kiddo,” I whisper, squeezing him and inhaling his sweet scent. “You ready to spend some time with your old man?”
“Yes, Daddy!” he says, bouncing in my arms. “Are we going to put up a Christmas tree?”
I glance around the townhouse. No tree. Not a single decoration. Not even a damn stocking. I look at Dee. She smirks and shrugs like the trash she is. I was such a fucking moron.
“We sure are,” I tell Caleb. “And there are plenty of presents waiting to go under it.”
“Yay!” he yells. He throws his hands in the air like he just won the lottery.
“You got your overnight bag?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. Mommy said I have stuff at your house and don’t need nuttin’.”
Of course she did. I don’t call her out—not in front of him. We both know he should’ve been allowed to pack his favorite stuffed animal and all his little comforts.
I just kiss the top of his head. “Then let’s get a move on. Daddy will buy you whatever you need.”
Behind me, Dee scoffs, “That’s right—spoil him. He’ll be an entitled little shit just like his dad.”
I turn back and smile slowly and sharply. “I hope to hell he’s completely like me. That way I know he has none of you in him.”
With that, I walk out, my son’s arms around my neck. Knife follows, calling over his shoulder, “It’s been real, assholes.”
I buckle Caleb into his booster seat and hand him the new Leapfrog game he picked out last time he was with me. Knife climbs in, watching the doorway as Dee and Mark stare hatefully after us. He flips them off, making me shake my head.
Once I’m behind the wheel, I murmur, “It was him, and Dee is definitely in on it.” My voice goes ice cold.
Knife nods. “Yeah. I know. You could see it written all over their faces.”
“We need to lock them down this week,” I murmur quietly, tightening my grip on the steering wheel as I pull away. “I can’t let Caleb go back to them.”
“Agreed,” Knife mutters.
It’s a tall order—one that could blow up everything if we don’t manage it. I’m praying like hell my men find proof Dee and Mark tried to kill me. I need full custody of my son. I need to get him away from them. I don’t want either of them able to touch my son.
I need to protect him at all costs …