But damn, it felt good to walk in there and know that no one was coming to help the piece of shit. It was amazing what the hacker that worked for Cain could do with a computer. And once Trace had heard what the sick fuck had done, he was more than happy to have at it. In fact, he’d done a lot more. He’d drained accounts. Moved money offshore. And reported the guy for tax fraud.
But that was only the beginning of a long-term plan to make this fucker sorry he was ever born.
The key was to do it without completely destroying his wife in the process, even though I thought she was even worse that the pervert. How do you not believe your own child when they tell you someone is hurting them? How could anyone turn away?
But she was Parker’s mom and I knew she’d never forgive me if she found out I’d hurt her, even inadvertently.
Better to focus on the real source of the problem.
I was in in less than a minute. I shut the door and stalked toward the office. I opened the door and smiled at the piece of human garbage sitting behind the big oak desk. The whole room was finished in hardwood. It was the kind of office you saw in fancy magazines or movies about big-time stockbrokers.
The kind of office of a guy who thought very highly of himself.
“What the hell!”
He was too stunned to react or reach for his phone. I knew he had a gun in the house too. He had at least one registered. I was pretty sure it was locked up, but I didn’t much care.
“Hi, John,” I said conversationally. As if I hadn’t broken into his house with the intent to beat him halfway to death.
“Do I know you?”
“No. But I know you.” I shut and locked the door behind me. “I have a message from your stepdaughter.”
The man paled and stood up, backing away. The piece of shit knew instantly why I was here. How could he not? He knew very well what he had done. I had a feeling he thought about it all the time, but that was about to change. Now I was going to give him a reminder he would never, ever forget.
I grabbed him by the throat and started hitting him. POW. POW. POW. I paused, looking at his face. I needed to fuck up his nose some more, I decided. I hit it a few times, not stopping until I heard that satisfying crunch that meant his nose was broken.
I dropped him to the floor and kicked his dick. He howled, holding his crotch and curling into the fetal position.
“How long? How long did you do that to her?”
He whimpered instead of answering, so I kicked him in the dick again.
“Answer me, you fuck!”
“Three years!” He howled, trying to cover his sorry excuse for a dick from my steel-toed boots. “But I didn’t fuck her,” he added. As if that made it better.
I knew it was because my brave girl had fought him off. Not because he had any redeemable qualities. Not because he didn’t fucking try.
I closed my eyes as sorrow and rage pitched a battle inside me. I could see her face. See the way she’d looked when I left. It hit me then. After everything she had been through, she needed someone who loved her. Even if it was a scumbag like me. As long as it was a scumbag who loved her.
She needed me.
Parker needed me.
And she wouldn’t want me to kill him. It would be so easy. So right.
Instead, I hauled him up and threw him in the chair behind the desk.
“Show me.”
“What?” The guy mewled like a fucking kitten. He was scared out of his mind. He knew I wanted to kill him.
Good. I hope his sick fucking life flashes in front of his eyes.
“Show me the pictures you saved. All of you perverts like your souvenirs, don’t you? Are they on your computer?”
He swallowed and nodded. He entered his password. He just sat there, bleeding everywhere. I pulled out my gun and cocked it.
“Fucking show me.”
He moved a lot faster with the gun pointed at him. I watched as he opened folder after folder. It was buried down a few levels. Finally, we were staring at a folder simply marked P. He opened it and I leaned over.
Photos. So many photos. There must be hundreds of them, I realized in disgust. But I had to see. I had to know everything she’d been through. I had to know her, body and soul.
I took the mouse and flipped through.
Parker. My Parker. Looking annoyed at having her picture taken. Unaware she was being photographed at family gatherings, barbecues, just hanging out in her room. Close-ups of her wearing skirts. Lots of those. I closed my eyes, feeling sick.