“I got plenty to force your hand,” I snarled, leaning closer and watching Mike move back. “Take that shit down.”

“Not fucking happening,” he replied coldly, then slumped back into his chair and held his arms out like he was waiting for me to crucify him. “What are you gonna do, Dash? Kill me? Huh? Let me ask you this.” He gripped the arms of his chair and slid up to the desk. “Why now? Why come here now asking me to remove your shit? You up and bailed weeks ago. Didn’t say nothing in that bullshit text you sent me about taking anything down, now all of a sudden …” He paused, his eyes flashed, and I watched a smirk twist across his mouth. “Oh, fuck me.” He leaned back and started rocking. “Fuck me. You gotta bitch, don’t you? That’s what this is about. Tell me I’m right, Dash. You got some hot pussy at home who doesn’t like that you stuck your dick in a bunch of whores.”

My nostrils flared.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” I hissed, itching to hit him.

“Did you confess to it?” he asked, grinning. “Or did she see it? I bet she liked that one where you fucked Jayden in every hole she has. Fuck it.” He waved his hand. “Get your bitch in here. Maybe she wants to make a little cash on the side too. I like uptight pussy.”

Fuck waiting for Jamie.

Growling like a caged animal, I reached across the desk and grabbed Mike by his shirt, yanked his fat ass out of his chair, and dragged him over to where I was standing, throwing his body down onto the hard concrete floor next to the desk.

“Fuck!” he groaned, arching his back.

I heard the computer monitor take a crash landing and bust to pieces as I straddled his waist, bent low, and started pounding my fist into the side of his face.

“You fuckin’ piece of shit motherfucker!” I snarled through my hits, bone cracking against bone and blood splattering. “You ever talk about my girl again and I will fuckin’ kill you! You hear me! I WILL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”

I hit his jaw, his cheek, I felt his nose break under my knuckle.

Mike whined and moaned and whimpered beneath me. His legs thrashed out and his arms tried to block or push me away, but I just kept coming.

And coming.

And coming.

I was going to kill him.

“Dash!”

I heard Jamie yell at my back, then he hooked my arm when it cocked for another hit, trapping it, wrapped his other arm around my chest, and pulled me off.

“Jesus Christ!” Jamie got me to my feet, then he shoved against my chest. “Fuck, you said ten minutes! You couldn’t wait for me?”

“You’re late,” I bit out, shaking my hand and trying to flex it.

Mike made a gurgling noise, then he turned his head and started spitting blood out of his mouth.

“Fuck this,” Jamie murmured. “We gotta go.”

He grabbed my bicep and pushed me in the direction of the door. We ran through the warehouse, gaining some attention but not giving any back.

Once we got outside, Jamie turned to me. He pushed his hand through his hair.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. “If I’d been any later, you would’ve killed him.”

I shrugged. “Good thing you weren’t any later, then.”

His eyes widened.

“Are you fuckin’ nuts? What’s gotten into you? He’s gonna call the cops and your ass is gonna get arrested.”

I dug my keys out of my pocket with my left hand.

“He’s not gonna do shit,” I replied, spinning around and walking to my Jeep.

Jamie stayed with me. “Care to explain that?”

I turned my head when I reached the door.

“Mike isn’t exactly running a legit business here, Jamie. No fucking way would he get cops here when he hasn’t been paying taxes on any of that money he’s been pulling in. It’s all under the table. And with his fucking ego being the way it is, ain’t no way he’d point a finger and admit it was me who bested him.”

Mike hated me just as much as I hated him. He’d never admit to this. He couldn’t lose to me.

Jamie’s eyes widened again, this time in realization.

“Still, we better go,” he suggested, looking around the lot and then back at me. “What the fuck brought this on anyway?”

I clenched my jaw, answering through my teeth, “I fucked up.”

* * *

Icing my hand, I sat at the dining room table trying to come up with another plan for getting those videos taken down.

I sat there for hours.

Nothing.

Fucking nothing came to me.

There was nothing else I could do.

Besides getting on my knees and groveling to Mike, which, considering I beat the shit out of him, I was doubting he’d do me any favors. Not that I’d fucking grovel to that worthless motherfucker but I’d at least keep my hands off him when I made my second request.

I was officially out of options.

Mike ran the site. He controlled what went on there.

I was fucked.

My phone sat on the table in front of me. Taunting me. My girl was a call away and I couldn’t do shit about it.

I needed something. I needed to find some way to get those videos down. I needed …

A knock sounded on the front door.

Wild.

I jumped out of my chair, letting the bag of peas I was icing my hand with fall to the floor, ran to the door, told Sir to get back, and swung it open, ready to greet my girl with a fuckton of begging.

“Uncle Brian!” Olivia shrieked, bouncing up and down on the porch.

“Hey, Uncle Brian,” Oliver greeted me. He held up his DS. “Brought this so we can play after dinner.”

Dinner.

Family dinner.

“Fuck,” I muttered, pinching my eyes shut and then looking between the two of them.

Olivia gasped, covered her mouth, then giggled. Oliver smiled big.

“Brian, really?” my sister scolded, standing behind them carrying a large casserole dish. She looked down at the twins. “Nobody is allowed to repeat what Uncle Brian just said. Am I clear?”

Olivia mouthed the word over and over as she stayed facing away from Jenna, smiling as she did it.

Oliver grinned at his sister, slid his glasses higher on his nose, then turned facing forward, replying for the both of them, “We won’t.”

“Good.” Jenna lifted her eyes to me. “I know we’re a little early but the kids wanted to play with Sir.” She studied me intently. “You look awful. Are you feeling okay?”

“No,” I replied honestly.

My entire fucking world was gone.

“Hi, Sir!” Olivia bent down when Sir pushed through my legs and stuck his head out the door. “I brought you treats. They’re in my pocket,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” I apologized, rubbing at my face and looking to Jenna. “For cussing and because I meant to call. Dinner’s canceled.”

Her brow furrowed.

“What? Really?” she asked, sounding disappointed. “Because you’re not feeling well?”

“Aw, man.” Oliver made a fist and punched the front of his thigh. “This is the worst day of my life!”

“Oliver, please, you said that yesterday when you couldn’t find your Star Wars shirt,” Jenna said.