The wraparound porch was painted white, a wooden rocking chair beside the door. Picture perfect came to mind. Out of all the men he’d killed over the years, the worst of them put up the biggest fronts. They lived in the nicest neighborhoods, had the right friends, and joined the public community events. It was all a façade for the evil lurking beneath. He suspected it was no different with Michael, living in the suburbs, playing house.
“Knock on the door. When he answers, tell him to you want him to stop looking for you. I’ll be close, so don’t worry. Can you do that for me?”
She swallowed hard, but nodded. Bain couldn’t wait to get this shit over with, because he hated seeing Scarlett so nervous. He had to prove to her that he was capable of handling himself.
He stood farther down the porch while she did as he asked. The door opened, and there was silence. She froze up, staring straight ahead and not able to speak. Bain was about to intervene when Michael spoke.
“I heard you’d moved on, and now … you’re here.”
“You can’t keep looking for me, Michael. Stop trying to get back into my life because it’s never going to happen. You know what you did, and it’s unforgiveable,” Scarlett said.
“You came all the way here to say that? That’s doubtful. How’d you find my new address anyway?”
“I have nothing else to say to you. You have no idea how much pain you’ve caused me. Just keep your distance because I have a court-ordered restraining order.”
“You think those mean anything? There not worth the paper they’re printed on,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Use your imagination, doll.” Michael said. “Do you already forget what happens when you piss me off? You think I’m scared of the cops?”
Scarlett started to back away, but the asshole grabbed her arm and forced her into the house. Bain was in the doorway within seconds, kicking the door shut behind him.
“Who the hell is that? Is he the guy you were with?” Michael asked.
“Shut up!” Bain shoved him in the chest, sending him scrambling backward.
Scarlett grabbed his coat to hold him back. “Bain, no!”
He turned and glared at her. Why was she trying to protect that piece of shit? Did she still love him? Did she have no fucking self-worth?
Bain returned his attention to Michael. He was pathetic, not even worth a bullet. “You like to hurt women?”
“You have no right to be here. This is private property.”
He chuckled without humor. “Do you think I’m afraid of the cops?”
“This is between me and her,” said Michael.
“There is no you and her. Scarlett’s mine now. Only mine.”
Michael looked toward Scarlett. “Did you actually sleep with this guy?” His face grew redder, his brow lowered. “I knew you were a slut, and this only proves it.”
Bain had had enough. He wrapped his hand around the front of his collar and slammed him up against the wall. “Apologize to her,” he warned.
It took all his resolve not to empty his clip into this asshole. He’d been raised fighting; it’s what he knew and what he loved. Living in regular society had always been a challenge when he was used to acting on impulse, no regard for laws or ethics.
“Get out of my house,” Michael said, his voice hoarse with his air supply being limited. When Michael pulled a pocketknife out from his pants, Scarlett screamed.
Bain twisted his arm around his back in one swift move, the knife clanging to the tiled floor. “Fucking apologize, you piece of shit.”
“You’ll both pay for this,” cried Michael.
He leaned down and whispered in the guy’s ear. “I fucked that sweet little pussy all night long, tough guy. And I will again tonight. The only cock she’ll ever know now is mine. You need to remember that.”
Bain stepped back, rolling out his shoulders.
Michael stood up, attempting to straighten his polo shirt. “Keep her. She’s damaged goods now. I don’t know what I was thinking hooking up with that. I have standards.”