Chapter Eighteen

Not everyone was as ecstatic as the two little girls. Several hundred miles away it was a totally different story as a very irate Addison pounded his anger out on an innocent punching bag. Thanks to his father and a sheriff who gladly accepted “donations,” a cell had been converted into a gym of sorts boasting a treadmill, exercise bike, and the speed bag Addison was currently beating to death.

In rapid succession he threw one punch after another making the bag bounce crazily on its spring hook. It was a wonder it didn’t go flying across the cell. With each punch he pictured Raine’s face. He’d shown the bitch mercy the last time he’d punished her. This time there’d be none. This time she’d pay double! No two-bit lawyer or scummy cops could save her then.

Throwing another series of punches, this time it was the two-bit lawyer’s face he attacked. He’d never like the arrogant S.O.B. and only tolerated him because of Raine’s friendship with Molly Hanson, the S.O.B.’s wife. Briefly, he considered taking Gordon Hanson out. But he knew the finger would automatically point in his direction. Instead, he would stick to the plan to make the bitch pay, then disappear with Katy.

Thinking of Katy reminded Addison of everything he’d missed since this mess started. Things like seeing her in her Halloween costume and taking her trick-or-treating. He’d missed Thanksgiving and the turkey picture she always colored for him. Suddenly, his throat constricted with emotion. He’d missed Christmas, too, and watching her open her presents from Santa Claus. That’s when it dawned on him that he had no clue what she’d even wanted for Christmas.

You’re such a role model for fatherhood, mocked the voice of his conscious. Addison ignored it but guilt made him pound the bag harder. How dare Raine think he could harm a hair on Katy’s head! It was preposterous! He’d never do anything to hurt her! He loved Katy more than anything in the world. Not as much as your little joy powder, taunted the voice again, you even used it while you were supposed to be watching her. Well bucko, that irritating voice continued, no wonder she doesn’t trust you. You’re a sorry excuse for a man let alone a father. You go crazy when you’re tanked up on the booze and drugs and lose control. So, who can blame her for not trusting you. This mess is your fault so pull up your big boy tidy-whities, quit blaming her, and move on.

God, how he wanted to punch that irritating voice! None of this was his fault! He’d been a good husband, a good father, provided an excellent living for his family. Raine hadn’t needed to work. She’d been a stay-at-home mom while continuing her freelance editing career. She’d lived in the lap of luxury! With all that, the ungrateful bitch had turned on him! Most definitely, she was going to pay!

Viciously attacking the speed bag again, sweat ran off him in rivulets. The muscles in his arms and shoulders burned, but it didn’t help lessen the rage that festered like an infected wound. The only medicine that would cure him was revenge.

Sheer exhaustion finally forced Addison to stop, but his anger hadn’t expended itself. It wouldn’t until he’d taken care of the bitch. He had to admit she deserved an Academy Award for her crying-wolf performance, claiming he’d tried to kill her and playing the poor battered victim so convincingly. And those cocky detectives had believed every lying word! It didn’t matter that he was the one with the bullet hole in his chest, bleeding all over the place. Hell, he hadn’t even stepped outside the hospital when in two shakes he was cuffed and carted off to jail. Thank goodness he’d listened to his attorney and taken that plea deal. That decision had definitely worked in his favor, and the icing on the cake . . . word had come down he’d be walking free even earlier than agreed. Whatever the reason, he sure as hell wasn’t arguing. Wiping his dripping face, he suddenly felt measurably better. “Hey Sonny, I’m going to shower off.”

“You know where your things are.” Instead of using the coarse jailhouse linen, Addison had his own private stock. Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, he was reclining on the clean sheets of his bunk, channel-surfing for a football game. It could be a lot worse in here, he guessed. With a little palm-greasing, the lawman in charge bent over backwards to accommodate him.

Sonny was doing the subtle harassing of Raine, and his folks were doing their best to buck him up, visiting often and spending the holidays with him instead of in the comfort of their home. Being ‘in here’ was definitely not the same as being in his own home, sleeping in his own bed, free to come and go as he pleased. Most definitely the bitch would regret ever crossing him. He’d start by punishing her with his favorite—a good old-fashioned whipping. A vision of her begging for mercy with each lash sent a thrill of anticipation racing through him. The occasion called for a brand new belt. With that thought in mind, he pulled the little brown bottle from his pocket. It was treat time.

Afterwards, his stomach started growling. Between the solid work-out, thinking of punishing Raine, and his little pick-me-up, his appetite was ferocious. “Hey Sonny, anymore of that pumpkin pie my mom brought? If so, how about we have some, and don’t spare the whipped cream on mine.”