Assholes like her husband and Prick shouldn’t get to move on with a smile on their smarmy faces. It just wasn’t fair. And while years of therapy had tried to help her accept her freedom and happiness as a satisfying replacement for revenge, there were dark moments when it wasn’t enough. Once in a while, when her hard-won independence felt more like loneliness than liberation, she wanted her husband to hurt as she’d hurt for so long, to fear as she’d feared, and to know the true meaning of helplessness. A state she vowed to never be in again.
Curly knew it, and her secret desire for retaliation extended to him as well. Destroying a significant source of income for Prick would be a fantastic start.
She rested her hands on the counter and gave herself a good internal assessment. Since leaving Evan and adopting Ray, she’d developed a protective streak a mile wide. Sometimes it got the better of her, and her reactions were a little over the top. Brooke blew out a breath and shook off the negativity as best she could. Then she yanked the door open, strode into the hall, and slammed right into a large man.
“Shit, sor—” She nearly swallowed her tongue as she glanced up into the face of an irate Prick.
“You,” he snarled down at her.
Every instinct she had told her to bitch him out, but one grain of sanity prevailed, making her hold her tongue. Thankfully that one morsel of self-preservation was hardier than the rest of her brain because, truth be told, he could squash her like a bug. So instead of giving him the verbal blasting he deserved, she just said, “Excuse me,” and stepped to the side to move around his broad body.
“Not so fast,” he said, scooting into her path.
“My friends are waiting for me.” This time she moved in the other direction, but again he blocked her retreat.
“Found something out about you,” he said, voice laden with venom.
Brooke sighed. “What’s that?”
“Turns out your property borders mine.”
She stiffened as she glared at him. Only her continued moving, beating out a rapid pattern. “And?”
He advanced on her, forcing her to stumble backward or have his protruding stomach bump her. Eventually, she encountered a wall. Trapped.
Shit.
He wasn’t touching her, but the threat was there. Rancid breath wafted down, causing her to wrinkle her nose and breathe through her mouth. Had the man ever heard of a toothbrush? Maybe a stick of gum? If the yellow tinge to his teeth were any indication, he wasn’t well acquainted with oral hygiene.
“It’d be a damn shame if something happened to all those cute little dogs you keep.”
Brooke’s spine snapped straight. Oh, hell no. Threatening her was one thing. Back her into a corner to show her he had the physical advantage? Fine. She could weather that storm. But threaten her babies?
Mama bear came out to play.
She drew herself up to her full five-feet-six inches, a solid half foot or so shorter than Prick, but screw it. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of my way. And if I ever catch you anywhere near my property, you’ll be hobbling home with broken kneecaps.” The thought of physically harming anyone, even this piece of shit, had her stomach roiling, but she’d do it to protect her brood.
How dare he threaten her dogs.
Prick let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. He grabbed her upper arms and shoved her against the wall so hard, she bit her tongue. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she’d die before letting him know she hurt. She’d learned from her husband that men like him got off on wielding power, so she became a master at hiding her true feelings.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” she seethed despite the metallic taste filling her mouth.
“Or what? You gonna break my kneecaps?” he laughed again.
“No, but I sure as fuck will.” Curly’s enraged voice came from behind Prick, and Brooke wasn’t ashamed to admit she sagged in relief.
Goading Prick might have been a mistake. For a second there, she’d worried she’d gone too far.
As soon as Prick turned, she darted around his girth and hustled to where Curly stood with Tracker and Ty. Even with his eyes spitting fire, Curly’s touch was gentle as he took hold of her arm. “You’re bleeding,” he said as he swiped his thumb across her lower lip.
“It’s nothing. Just bit my tongue.”
“Go stand with Ty.”
Normally she’d have bristled at the order, but she’d run out of steam and felt shaken to the core. When she reached Tyler, he slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
“What’d I tell you about keeping that bitch on a leash?” Prick said with a smirk she’d have loved to see Curly smack off his face. But they were in public, and a trip to jail would be the cherry on this shitty sundae of a night.