He gave me an exasperated glare. “Well that don’t mean shit, ’cause it looks godawful fucked up.”
“I’ll be okay as soon as I eat,” I reassured him then rattled off the combination.
“Got it. Be right back.”
I watched him fondly as he trotted down the hall. I had one more emergency bag of brains labeled as brussel sprouts in the freezer, but those had to stay untouched, now more than ever. Use only in event of monster-mode. I didn’t want to think what would have happened tonight if my dad’s brain had been the only one available.
My vision swam and I struggled to focus.
“Angel!”
I was sitting on linoleum, staring at the . . . dishwasher? Kitchen. On the floor in the kitchen, right shoulder leaning against the fridge. But how? My left hand throbbed, and I saw that three nails were ripped off. I blinked stupidly at my hand then registered the frigid air flowing over me. Above me, the freezer door stood wide open.
I gulped. No. The freezer door was on the other side of the room. I scrambled to my feet, clutched the counter as I swayed. The freezer door hinges hung, twisted, and broken.
“Angel?”
Dad stood a foot from the linoleum, eyes wide as he took in the damage. In one hand he clutched a foil-wrapped half of a burrito.
“Oh god.” I swallowed, aghast. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“I do. But you better eat while I talk.” He tossed me the burrito which, by some miracle, I managed to catch. He waited until I started eating before he continued. “I’d just got into your fridge when you started caterwaulin’ like a bear with a hornet up its ass. I grabbed your food and ran back out in time to see you trying t’get into the freezer.” He gestured helpfully. “But you was yanking on the wrong side from the handle. Next thing I know, you done ripped it clean off.”
My gaze went to the bag marked “brussel sprouts” resting in the center of the freezer. Still full, to my relief. I’d been going for the brains in there, I was absolutely certain. A blackout. I’d had a few of those before, at the peak of my drug use. But not like this. It didn’t make sense.
Or did it? Huge loss of impulse control. Crazy strength. Aftereffect of the double-dose overdrive from the V12? That had to be the culprit.
“I’ll pay for a new one, Dad. I’m so sorry.”
“Never you mind,” he said. “I mean, yeah, we gonna need a new one, but first let’s get you taken care of.” He shepherded me back to the couch and got me settled again. “Wait right here, and don’t tear up any more appliances.”
“You’re going to give me grief about this forever, aren’t you?”
“’Til the day I die,” he shot back with a wink. He returned to the kitchen and a few seconds later came back with a hacksaw. “I seen on the news that Randy and Coy got themselves into some trouble,” he said conversationally as he pulled up a footstool.
“No shit?”
“No shit.” He squinted at the bolt, frowned.
“Cut the head off,” I suggested. “Then you can pull it out from the front.”
He blew out a breath, nodded and set the blade against the bolt at my back. “Yep, Coy turned himself in for the murder. Him and Judd done it.” His face darkened as he sawed. “Though we all know it was mostly Judd. Seems Randy talked Coy into going to the cops, but Judd didn’t want no part of that, so he kidnapped ’em both. Chained those two boys up in the Pichon’s old fishing camp.” Dad paused. “Turns out they found a can of compressed air in a drawer. They froze the chains to break ’em and escaped.”
“Wow. Pretty darn clever of them.”
His mouth twisted. “Uh, huh. Real clever. And real lucky. Judd woulda killed those two, no question.” The head of the bolt thumped to the floor. Dad set the hacksaw aside then moved in front of me and took hold of the fletching. “There’s a big ol’ manhunt going on for Judd now.” He pulled the bolt free in one swift move, wringing a gasp from me. After a few seconds to catch my breath, I gave him a weak thumbs up.
Dad tossed the front panel of the battered vest aside, then handed me the rest of my burrito. As I ate, I tugged my shirt aside and peered at the wound in my chest. It was closing, but it sure was taking its sweet time.
My dad cleared his throat. “Do I need to worry about seein’ you on the news?”
“I think it’s going to be okay.” I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”
His eyes were misty as he smiled. “Anytime, Angelkins.” He helped me up then gave me a gentle hug that damn near had me bawling.
“I need to take care of one thing,” I said then moved to the kitchen, hoisted the freezer door and stuck it back into place. “Break out the duct tape. I don’t want to lose all this food.”
“A redneck toolkit,” he said with a snort. “Duct tape and WD-40.” He grabbed a roll from a drawer and taped the door in place, then stepped back and regarded our handiwork. “Well, at least it ain’t a driveway