And I reveled in it.
If I didn’t do this, didn’t make that little fucker pay in kind, it would fester inside me until it was a poisonous substance that I’d never get rid of.
I was like that with everything in my life, this need to finish what was started, a positive but also a negative.
I’d left shortly after dinner and had seen on her face that she knew what I was doing, what I planned on doing. And when I got home and if she asked where I’d been, what I’d done, I would tell her the truth. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything, wasn’t going to lie. There was no point.
And I’d already come to the realization that I would handle this tonight, that when I got back to the house, I would sit her down and tell her how I felt. I was done waiting.
She’d only been here a week, yet it felt like a fucking eternity that I’d been holding this in. She could make me wait, could have all the time she needed, but these feelings I had for her needed to be said out loud.
And that needed to be done tonight.
Once in town, I’d driven around to a couple of the spots where I knew the lowlife loitered. I ended up finding the little bastard hanging out in the alleyway between the liquor and convenience stores. He was with one other guy, each of them with a bottle in their hand, cigarettes between their lips. I pulled into a parking spot, my headlights shining directly into the alleyway. For a moment, they didn’t pay me any attention, but when I didn’t turn the lights off, they both looked in my direction. I had my hands tight around the steering wheel, the leather creaking from the force I was using.
The other guy said something to Josh, tossed his cigarette to the side, and then ended up walking away. But the little motherfucker still watched me after he was alone, this nasty-toothed grin spread across his face.
He flicked his cigarette away and brought his bottle up to his mouth, taking a long drink as he stared at me. He couldn’t see me clearly because of the tinted windows, but he’d see me soon enough.
For a second, I sat there and let my rage grow, fester, increase until it consumed me. I’d never felt anything like this, this burning intensity to exact revenge, to let someone know that what they did was wrong… that they’d touched what was mine.
Even if he hadn’t put his hands on her, the fact that he approached her, spoke to her, had every possessive instinct in me coming alive. But he had hurt her, marked her, and that I would not stand for.
I climbed out of the car, didn’t even bother closing my door or cutting the engine, and made my way toward him.
He was a ballsy fucker, I’d give him that, as he held his ground, his grin growing. I was bigger than him, not just in height but in weight as well. I was double his size and width. He didn’t stand a chance. And although I could’ve easily killed him on principle alone, I was making a point, not just for Kitty, not just to stake my claim, but to put in his mind that him assaulting women would not be tolerated.
I stopped when I was just a foot from him, inhaled deeply, feeling my nostrils flare. He smelled like stale cigarettes and rancid sweat, booze, and despair. He smelled like a fucking piece of shit.
I could’ve talked to him, could’ve set him straight with words alone, but that wasn’t going to happen, because I knew this man was nothing but a lowlife. He’d do this again and again until someone stopped him.
And that someone was me. That day was today.
“You assaulted what’s mine,” I growled.
He didn’t speak for a moment, but I could see his mind working as he tried to remember or place what I was talking about. Finally, the light went on in his head, and his eyebrows rose slightly for a second.
“You mean that bitch from the grocery store today?”
That was all it took for me to lose my cool, for every sane, rational part of my body to snap in half. I said nothing as I reared my arm back and brought my fist right to the center of his face. I heard bone crunch, his nose breaking.
He dropped the bottle, and I heard the glass break within the paper bag. He cupped his face but not before I saw blood pouring from his nose, smelled it thicken the air with a coppery aroma.
He stumbled back, hunched over slightly, but he still looked at me, a stunned expression on his face. He knew who I was. Everyone in town did.
But he was drunk and high all the time, probably so hopped up on drugs right now that he just didn’t care.
I took a step forward and smelled the fear come from him. He finally understood, took notice that I could crush him in my hands as if he were nothing but a nuisance, a fly.
“If you touch, look, even fucking think about what’s mine—or another woman again—I’ll come looking for you, Josh.” I grinned, but it was more of a sneer, a flash of my teeth to let him know I was more animal than man right now.
“There’s nowhere you can hide, nowhere you can run that I can’t fucking find you. My pockets are endless, black holes of resources, and my reach is far and wide with my connections. I’d find you. And I’ll make sure that if you ever do this again, you’ll never have function of your arms or legs from that point forward.” I stared at him right in the eyes, could see the reality set in, his head clearing from whatever substance he was intoxicated with, so my words really penetrated.
I wasn’t a violent man by nature, had never even gotten into a physical fight. I used my words as my weapon. But when you wanted something so fucking much, it consumed you, and you’d do anything to make sure it was safe.
And I felt that way with Kitty.
“Do you understand me?” He nodded quickly, and I heard the grunt of pain come from him as the movement jarred his now broken nose.
I stared him in the eyes for a moment longer, really cementing my words, really making him fucking see how serious I was, before I turned and headed back home.
I felt raw in this moment, my emotions and feelings torn open, as if somebody had cut my chest, exposed my heart.
Yes, tonight I’d let Kitty know she was mine. I’d let her know with my words and with my body that I wasn’t letting her go.
11
Kitty
I’d been cleaning up after dinner when I heard Fin come into the kitchen. To say there had been this thickness in the room as we ate would’ve been an understatement. His expression had been hard, as if he had something heavy on his mind but didn’t want to share it with me.
He didn’t have to. I knew what the problem was.
I hadn’t missed how he kept looking at my wrist. As the hours passed, the bruise started to become more noticeable. He was pissed about it. I knew without him saying those words.
And that had been hours ago. He told me he had to run an errand. I didn’t question where he was going so late, because it wasn’t my business. But deep in my gut, I knew what was happening, what he was doing.
Going to handle what happened to me… going to find the man who touched me.
I was in my room, pacing, feeling on edge. I didn’t want him fighting my battles. I was a strong, independent woman, I kept telling myself. But a part of me, a part that was pretty damn strong, couldn’t help the feminine appreciation that he wanted to protect me.
Tonight. When he was back. I’d tell him how I felt.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore, not when I knew the looks he gave me, the way he watched me, and now this meant he had to harbor some kind of deeper feelings for me too.