THE SECOND THEY heard the car pull away, Elliott held up his hands in a protective gesture. “How pissed are you? Should I run?”
Given her performance the other night, Ros didn’t blame him for being wary. If she’d had a big stick then, she would have used it on him.
Now, though, with Charlotte’s reminder in her head, she kept her cool. Actually, he looked so cautious, she almost laughed.
It was hard to demolish a man who made you smile at the worst of times.
That was always the problem with Elliott. He made her cry when few others could—but he also made her laugh harder than she did with anyone else. He’d shown her the greatest, most encompassing love, but also crushed her heart. He was never around, yet she knew she could count on him in a crisis.
He’d do whatever he could for her...and then he’d take off again.
Long ago she’d learned that Elliott’s struggles were his own, and her happiness didn’t depend on him. Still, it saddened her—for him. Since he was unable to commit to anything or anyone for long, she didn’t think he’d ever truly be happy.
Yes, very sad indeed.
“You’re looking at me with sympathy. Does that mean you plan to kill me off? Honest, honey, I won’t fight you—but I’d rather not die today.”
There was no point telling him her thoughts; she’d done that before and it hadn’t mattered.
So she played it off, slapping his shoulder and giving in to a laugh. “You’re terrible, but I have to admit, I’m glad he didn’t stay out there alone last night.”
“Near enough,” Elliott said, folding his arms on the table and studying her in that intense way he had that made her feel sexy and more like a woman than she did at any other time.
“What does that mean?” After refilling her own cup, she sat across from him, careful to avoid touching his big feet under the table. On Elliott, everything was big—and in her youth, that had often been her downfall. Together, they could burn down the roof. Oh, how she’d loved his big body and the way he used it when pleasuring her.
“He slept alone, honey. Out in a tent, I mean.” Visibly perturbed by that, Elliott toyed with his cup. “I tried to get him to take the bedroom, but he was clear about sleeping outside with his dog.”
“So you took the bed?”
“No, that was too far away. I squeezed onto that damned short couch in the screened patio. Trust me on this, it was not meant for a man of my size.”
Ignoring most of that, Ros said, “I wondered about the tent. Do you think it was his time in prison?”
“Probably. He told me a little about it. Just the basics, ya know?” His hand knotted into a still credible fist. “I failed him in every way possible.”
“Yup.” She wasn’t about to sugarcoat the truth just to soothe his conscience. Softer, she added, “If only you’d brought him to me.”
“I know.” Full of guilt, he met her accusing gaze. “I really did consider it, even talked to Velma about it. I didn’t want to go on in front of Mitch, but she flat-out refused. Made no sense. Wasn’t like she could care for him the way he needed—at least not that she showed. But she said she’d come after me, and I couldn’t see bringing that much trouble to your door.”
“Elliott.” Over the years, they’d had similar conversations so many times that it almost felt like a waste of her breath. “You should have taken him yourself, then, and let the trouble come to your own door.”
“I know. You’re right.” He sat back with a sad smile. “This is like old times. Me fucking up, you calling me on it.”
“The big difference is that I gave up on you ever changing when you hit forty. Now when I bitch, it’s just to vent, not because I think it’ll make a difference.”
“Maybe one small difference.” He lifted his hip and drew a wallet from his back pocket, opening it and pulling out a check. For a moment he just fingered the paper, then finally put it on the table and slid it toward her.
“What’s this?” Confused by the gesture, Ros picked it up, staggered to see it was made out to her—for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Her heart hit her feet with true alarm. “What did you do? Did you rob a bank?”
The accusation widened his eyes, but then he gave a gruff laugh. “That’s actually as plausible as the truth.”
Slapping the check down, she glared at him. “Which is?”
Uncomfortable, he rubbed his chin, scratched at his ear. “See, this nice gal I was seeing had an elderly neighbor. She was out cutting her grass one day and I felt bad for her so I went over and finished it up. It was odd, but we fell into a pattern. Even after Tracy and I stopped seeing each other, I went over there to check on the old gal.”
“Cutting grass once, I can believe. You were never afraid of work.” Still reeling from the size of that check, Ros drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “It was the responsibility and routine that made you break out in hives.”
He didn’t deny the truth. “The thing is, Jean appreciated me. And she respected me, even when she shouldn’t have. It didn’t matter if a month went by without me seeing her, when I thought of her and dropped in she’d insist on making dinner and she’d trail me when I did repairs to her house.”
Ros’s brows climbed all the way to her hairline. “You did her repairs?”
“Little things. Leaky sink, broken porch swing.” Honest embarrassment made him duck his face. “Re-shingled her roof once.”
Not a single word came to mind so Ros just sat in stupefied fascination and listened.
“I’d take her grocery shopping and she’d hang on my arm and tell me what an amazing young man I was.” His short chuckle sounded of both discomfort and pleasure. “I, um, I found out she didn’t go to the grocery store anymore, so when I didn’t come by, she sometimes did without. That bothered me so I started coming around more often.”
Unbelievable. “And somewhere within this incredible story, you managed to profit?”
Color slashed his cheekbones. “I don’t blame you for thinking the worst. You sure as hell have every right and the truth is pretty damned bizarre.”
Ros propped her head on her fist. “I’m all ears.”
He shot her a disgruntled frown. “Jean didn’t have anyone else. I didn’t know that either. I figured her family just neglected her. God knows I understand that, since I’d always neglected you and our sons.”
“No argument from me.”
“Yeah, well...” He shifted. “Meeting her got me thinking about how I’d be alone and neglected—because I’d never given anyone reason to care. I can’t change that now. You, Jack and Brodie don’t need me. But Jean did, so I stuck around and kept her company and...enjoyed being useful for a change.”
Discomfort began to crowd out Ros’s resentment. Elliott didn’t have to say it, because she could see he was hurting. Yes, it was a pain of his own making, but as she’d always told the boys, Elliott was who he was, and they could either accept him and get on with their lives peacefully, or despise him and let his derelict ways continue to hurt.
For the most part, they’d chosen peace.
And she’d done her utmost to ensure they never felt the loss.
“The thing is,” he continued, “when she passed away, I found out she’d written a will and left everything to me. I thought that meant her old house and whatever car she had out in her barn. She’d told me it was old and didn’t think it would run anymore, so I just drove her where she needed to go. I figured it was an ancient Buick or something. Typical old-person’s car, you know?” He looked down at his coffee, stirring the top with his fingertip. “Her tiny little house sold real fast for twenty-two grand. I used part of that to give her a real nice funeral. Her car though...” His gaze lifted to hers. “Turned out it was a ’68 Shelby GT500—and it sold for a hundred and twenty Gs at auction. I’m keeping the rest from the house to eventually replace my own car, but the Shelby... I want you to have it.”
What in the world would she do with that kind of money? Protests mounted—
He cut her off before she got a single word out. “It won’t make up for the past. I know that. And I swear to God, Ros, I’m not trying to buy you or anything.”
“So what are you trying to do?” For sure, it wasn’t the usual. Not with a gesture this grand.
“I...” He rubbed at his neck. “Look, we both know I was never going to hold down a job long enough to give you everything you deserve. To repay you for all you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” It wouldn’t kill him to spell it out.
Knowing it was what she wanted, he smiled. Elliott always knew her—and sometimes it unnerved her.
“We have very fine sons.”
“We do.”
All too serious, he said, “They got their height and physical strength from me.”
As well as their good looks.
“But every other fine quality came straight from you. Their guts, caring, compassion and backbone...that’s all you, honey, and we both know it. You’re a natural-born leader and it’s because of you that my sons turned out the same, and that I’m so damn proud of them.”
“I love them,” she replied, then pointed out, “And I never asked for payment.” Chasing Elliott for child support would have been a lesson in frustration. He handed over money when he had it, but far too often, he had nothing at all.
“I know it, and I know why. You could have had my ass thrown in jail. You could have turned the boys against me. You could have...well, hated me and kicked me from your lives. I’m glad you’re not made that way. It’s coming late. Too damn late for forgiveness. But I appreciate you, I always have.”
Agog at that ridiculous declaration, she laughed. “You took me for granted.”
“I know it looked that way.” Staring into his coffee, his voice lowered. “I used to thank God that you were a better person than me.” When he glanced up, his eyes were a little glassy. “Take the check, honey. It’s a sliver of all I owe you, but it’s all I have to give.”
Because he’d never give himself. Not his time, not his...love.
No, that was unfair. She knew he loved her and their sons. He just couldn’t love as much or as fully as she could.
And for that, again, she pitied him.
“You said you had to replace your car?”
“Yeah. Totaled my Mustang.” With a self-deprecating laugh, he said, “You know I was behind on my insurance payments.”
She’d always been the responsible one who made sure payments were made, so that didn’t surprise her. “How?”
“A drunk T-boned me. Fool ran straight through a stop sign and pow! Lights out for me.”
Dear God. Shaken by the thought, she asked, “You were hurt?”
“Spent a little time in the hospital, but I’m fine now. They released me and two days later I found out Jean had passed.” Holding up his hands, he grinned. “It all conspired against me. A taste of my own mortality, seeing how Jean died alone...”
Gripping the edge of the table, Ros ignored the panic rushing in and used her most forceful tone. “Elliott Crews, you tell me right now. How badly were you hurt?”
His gaze slid away.
“Elliott.”
Aggrieved, he gave her his full attention. “Concussion, broken nose, fractured eye socket—”
“Dear God.” He could have died.
“—but it was the cut on my thigh that was the worst.” Pushing back his chair, he trailed a finger along her left inner thigh, from knee to groin. “Chunk of metal broke out of the door and got me.” He flashed a quick smile. “Thank God it missed my jewels.”
“It isn’t funny!” Hands shaking, Ros fought the tears in her eyes.
“Yeah, laying in that hospital room and thinking of all the ways I’d screwed up, I agree. Not funny. Jean—God bless her—gave me the means to do something good for once.” He reached for her wrist, prying her hand loose and pulling it toward him, engulfing it in both his much larger hands. “I want you happy, Ros. More than anyone I know, you deserve that.”
Oh, how her heart broke. Very softly, she said, “I can’t be happy with you Elliott.”
“I know that. And if Grant’s the one, then...well, I’ll try not to despise him too much.” His smile came and went. “But maybe I could try to correct some of my losses with the boys. They’ve both got beautiful wives now, and that probably means grandkids soon, right?”
“Grandkids.” Indulging a watery laugh, Ros pulled away from his grasp to swipe at her eyes. “I don’t know that I want to be called granny yet. I’ll have to think of something better.”
“You always looked beautiful with a baby in your arms.”
“Oh, stop.” She slapped at him.
Holding out his hand, palm up, this time asking instead of taking, Elliott waited. “Can we be friends? Do you think you can forgive me enough for that?”
“Elliott.” She shook her head and placed her hand in his. “I’ve always done my best to ensure you have a place in your sons’ lives. If it doesn’t work out for you, it won’t be because of me.”
“They broke the mold after making you. Even Jean, who adored me to the moon and back, often said I was a fool for letting you get away.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Wisely, he then released her. “Were you serious about dinner?”
Her hand tingled from his kiss. Damn it, why did it still have to be this way with him? Blowing out a breath, she quipped, “Why not? You can be here at six.” She pushed the check back toward him. “But you can keep that. I don’t want it.” It was bad enough having him here, stirring her up despite her commonsense. “You’ll probably need it to get yourself going again.”
He snorted. “What the hell would I buy with it?”
“You could start with insurance. Maybe pay it up for five years in advance.”
For a second he only stared at her, then laughed. “They won’t do that. I asked.”
At least he made the effort to do the right thing. “So put it in the bank and do automatic withdrawals.”
“Nope.” He stood without touching it. “If you have to, donate it to your favorite charity. I know you have many. But I have no right to it.”
“Then give it to Mitch!” She popped out of her chair too, not about to let him get away yet.
He snorted. “You don’t know him as well as you think you do. No way in hell would he accept it, but you’re welcome to try. It can be a gift from you.”
She grabbed his forearm. Soft hair covered firm muscles, warmed from his body. Choking back a groan, Ros snatched her hand away. “I thought you were staying until Grant got here.”
“You didn’t hear him pull up?” The slow smile that curved his mouth was too damn sexy. “Glad I could distract you for a minute there.” He bent and put a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Ros. I’ll always love you—enough to stay out of your way, I promise.”
And with that parting shot he opened the door and greeted a startled Grant. “Morning, Colvin. You’re just in time.”
When Elliott stuck out his hand, Grant automatically accepted it.
Elliott pulled him close. “Don’t let anything happen to her. Red Oak would never be the same.” Whistling, he sauntered away to an old beat-up truck.
Grant’s stare moved from Elliott to her in narrow-eyed speculation. “What the hell was that about?”
She shook her head. “Same old, same old.” Going back to the table, she snatched up the check, folded it and tucked it into her pocket. “Coffee?”
Without asking her about the check, Grant slid his arms around her waist from behind and nuzzled her ear. “I’d rather have you.”
Oh lord.
It wasn’t a total lack of interest on her part...but on the heels of Elliott being there? That wouldn’t be fair to Grant. Smiling, she turned to face him. “Are you free for dinner? Mitch wants some alone time with Charlotte, so I invited Elliott here. I’ll get the boys and my daughters-in-law to come over too.”
He blanched. “You invited Elliott to dinner?”
As if speaking to a dunce, she reiterated, “So Mitch and Charlotte could have time alone.” It was Grant’s bad luck that her patience for explaining to men had already run thin.
He pondered it for far too long before asking, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“You can behave yourself?”
“I will if he will.”
Sometimes, men were just overgrown little boys. “He knows and abides by my rules.”
That brought his brows together. “You sound admiring.”
Oh, for the love of... Going for the quickest and easiest way of ending the conversation, Ros leaned up and kissed him, quick and light. “There’s no way I’m getting hooked up with Elliott again.” He never stuck around long enough for her to even consider it. “But Charlotte pointed out that Mitch came here for a fresh start with a happy family, not a family at each others’ throats. So I’ll play nice, and I expect you to as well.”
Not quite convinced, he cupped her face and kissed her again. “I want you happy. You know that, right?”
That sounded far too close to Elliott’s sentiment, making her testy. “I’m a grown woman who knows her own mind and I can damn well ensure my own happiness. Now will you come to dinner or not?”
“I’d be happy to.”
With that settled, she put their cups in the sink and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go. I want to do what I can to keep the office running smoothly until Charlotte gets in. If she shows up to a mess, she’ll never again take the morning off, and that girl deserves a break.”
“I have a feeling Mitch does too.”
On that, they were both in agreement.
IT HADN’T BEEN EASY, following the cop without getting seen. Lee had to “borrow” Bernie’s car, and still Newman made sure he held way back. Eagerness and anger became a volatile mixture. If he didn’t get to Mitch soon, he’d lose his shit.
Once they’d gotten Bernie drunk last night, it had been easy asking him questions, finding out where Ros and Charlotte lived. Luckily, they lived alone, which made things almost too easy.
Today was all about reconnaissance, getting a lay of the land, seeing what their odds might be for gaining access later. That’s what he wanted most, to terrorize them up close and personal, to smell their fear, to see them sweat.
It would eat Mitch alive when they went crying to him.
And maybe, as a bonus, it’d turn them against him. Who wanted a bastard ex-con bringing that kind of trouble to their door?
They’d know Mitch was to blame—because he’d tell them so.
And if he had to fuck with the outside of their house instead? Whatever. He could make that work too.
This early, Bernie was still crashed and wouldn’t miss his car. He’d gotten so wasted that Newman doubted he’d stir until noon at the earliest. After meeting with them on the outskirts of town in a less noticeable bar, he’d nearly drunk them all under the table—until he’d finally passed out.
They’d had to haul him inside and drop him in his bed—and then they’d made use of his place, instead of heading back to the old lady’s house.
Thinking of last night made Newman incandescent with rage all over again.
When they’d finished working over Mitch’s car, he, Lee and Ritchie had climbed atop the low, flat roof of a hardware store where they could watch without being seen. He’d waited, almost breathless with anticipation, to see Mitch’s reaction when he viewed the damage on his beloved car. He still remembered the day Mitch got it from Elliott, how goddamned happy he’d been over the pile of junk.
Sneaky bastard had hidden it away too.
The only upside had been that it kept Mitch busy and out of the way.
Lang had told him Mitch drove the car now, that he’d fixed it up real nice...but still, he’d barely recognized the sleek, shiny Mustang as the same old heap of scrap metal.
Damaging it had felt good.
But the miserable prick hadn’t given him any satisfaction. Instead of losing his shit, Mitch had calmly walked around the car, checked under it as if he thought they might be hiding there, and then searched the area.
Looking for him, Newman knew.
For some fucked-up reason, they’d all three ducked, and the shame of it scalded his temper. He’d considered climbing down and carving Mitch’s face right then and there, but Lee—always cool headed—had spotted the cop charging up the walk just in time.
No reason to get arrested just to make Mitch pay.
His day was coming, sooner than he thought.
Better to stick to the plan, to drag out the fun.
Now, as they rolled past the house, they noted the distance between the neighbors, the big wooded yard, and he knew, absolutely knew, getting inside would be a piece of cake.
They’d be back.
In the dark.
And then the fun would begin.
CRADLING CHARLOTTE’S MUCH smaller hand in his gave him a sense of peace, despite what had happened last night. With a tall sycamore tree shading them from the bright morning sunlight, they stood at the edge of a fast-moving creek. The water sparkled as it carried away a leaf. Birds circled overhead and somewhere in the distance a cicada chirped.
Filling his lungs with the fresh humid air, Mitch ordered his thoughts.
He’d brought her here to kiss her, to touch her and let her get used to him, but in a setting that guaranteed he couldn’t get carried away.
Never, not in a million years would he hurt her, and that meant there were things she needed to know.
Before coming to the park, they’d gone by a deli and picked up breakfast sandwiches and orange juice, then sat on a park bench to eat. Charlotte hadn’t yet said much, but she didn’t need to.
He felt her anticipation.
And suffered his own.
He also felt her acceptance, and it meant the world to him, more than being accepted by his brothers, more than seeing his absentee father. More than having a house or finding roots.
He’d laid eyes on her that first night and without effort she’d turned his entire world upside down, altering his priorities and realigning his focus.
Quietly, with only the birds to overhear, he said, “There are things you should know about me.”
Just as she had so many times before, she leaned into his side, her arms around him. It was a special thing to be embraced by this woman.
Hot, stirring, yet somehow also calming.
“I’d love to know more.” In this light, the blue of her eyes reflected the sky. “But it won’t change anything.”
Anything, meaning she’d still care? He’d find out now, wouldn’t he? “Let’s sit.” Thanks to the heat wave, no morning dew remained on the grass.
Without hesitation, she stepped out of her sandals and got comfortable at the edge of the creek, poking her small feet into the water. “There’s a bigger creek that divides Brodie’s property and ours. After a rain, it’s deep enough to swim in.” She peeked at him, watching him as he pulled off his own shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans above his ankles. “Would you like to go there sometime?”
“Sure.” As he eased down beside her, he asked, “You ever skinny-dip?”
“Eeww, no. Not with Brodie around. If he ever busted me, we’d both die.”
Yeah, right. “Somehow I think Brodie would survive, but you?” Just looking at her made him smile. He lightly tweaked a curl. “Yeah, you might have trouble getting around it.”
“It would be awful.” A breeze drifted over them, and she lifted her face. “No one has seen me naked since my mother passed.”
Funny how there were things you knew, logical assumptions, but you didn’t think about them. Being a virgin, it made sense that no one had seen her, and yet, until this moment, he hadn’t considered it.
Finding a small rock in the grass, he tossed it into the stream. “You’re putting thoughts in my head.”
“What thoughts?”
“You, naked.”
“Oh.” And then with more meaning, “Oh.”
“I wanted to talk.”
Glad for the change, her shoulders relaxed. “So talk already.”
“Soon, I’m going to see you naked.”
Clearly that wasn’t what she’d expected. Tucking in her chin, she glanced at him. “You think so, do you?”
He’d fought it...a little. Not enough, obviously. But now that he’d given in? Now he wanted to put all his concentration on her, on protecting her, making her happy, showing her how special she was. “You and me...we’re meant to happen.”
Pleasure slowly took away her embarrassment until she smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
That brought him full circle and he stared out over the fields. He’d deliberately chosen this spot because it was secluded, but no one could sneak up on them. He didn’t trust Newman and would never take chances with Charlotte.
He protected what was his, and whether she knew it yet or not, whether she’d consider him a caveman or overbearing, she was now his.
Best to get it over with. “I almost killed a guy.” He plucked a clover bud just to give his restless fingers something to do—other than reaching for her. “And so that you understand, I mean that literally. If the guards hadn’t dragged me off him, I would have finished him.” Sights and smells crowded his brain. The image of blood and gore, the shouts and the shock of pain that hit the back of his knees... One deep breath, then another, and he managed not to crush the clover.
Her expression searching, then softly sympathetic, she asked in the gentlest voice ever applied to him, “Why?”
Why? That single word nearly knocked his heart through his chest. She left him at a loss for words. He’d prepared for a variety of reactions, just not that one.
She didn’t look appalled, or frightened. No, not Charlotte. She only wanted details. She’d withhold judgment until she knew the facts.
In this case, the facts might repulse her even more than the brutality of what he’d done.
And the reasons he’d done it.
His throat tightened, making him swallow hard.
Charlotte didn’t move—so he had to. Stretching out on his back, he dropped a forearm over his eyes. Maybe if he didn’t see her, it wouldn’t shame him quite as much.
“Prison... It’s all about dominance.”
Silence, and then he felt her settling beside him. Her hand came to his chest, right over his heart, and rested there. Her lips touched his. With startling perception and uncompromising compassion, she whispered, “Tell me.”
Yeah, that was the point, right? To let her know how he was, to see if she could handle it.
To see if they had a future.
He didn’t want to. He fucking hated the idea of repeating it. Before meeting her, he would have sworn that he never would. How to describe humiliation and rage and fear and retaliation?
Burying it, shoving it to the back of his mind, was easier.
But this was Charlotte, and she had a right to know him. “Two men pinned me down so another could rape me.”
She went perfectly still, her hand on his chest heavier...and suddenly she was full against him, hugging him fiercely. So tight, as tight as a woman of her size could, he imagined.
“He didn’t succeed,” Mitch whispered, wanting to soothe her.
“You got hurt.”
“Yes, I did.” Badly, so badly that for a time he hadn’t known if he’d recover. “I think that’s what kicked me past reason. I was an animal fighting for survival.”
“I wish you had killed them all.”
The tears in her voice leveled him. “What? No, honey, you don’t mean that.” He locked his arms around her.
“Yes, I do,” she said, without loosening her hold or raising her head, and that made it easier. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was new, but my cell mate had been in and out of prison his whole life. He wasn’t a bad guy.” Such a subjective term, so he clarified. “A miserable thief, yes, but not a rapist or murderer or child abuser.” Those were the worst, because those men had no conscience at all. They weren’t even men, just monsters living in human shells. Unpredictable and immoral. At times, they’d hurt people just to break up the boredom.
A lot like Newman.
That lazy breeze shifted the leaves overhead, sending sunlight to dance over Mitch’s face. It was a reminder: he was alive, free, his brothers had accepted him, and now Charlotte hugged him.
Overall, life was better than he’d dared hope a few years ago.
Coasting his hand down her back, then up again, Mitch collected his thoughts. “The first few days I was there, he explained things to me, even helped me make a shiv. I had it on me that day, but couldn’t get to it. The attack came too quickly from behind me. One of them busted the backs of my knees...” Rage and terror welled up again. The feeling of being helpless.
Never again.
For the rest of his life, he’d face each day head-on. He’d learned, hell yes he had. Now he could sense trouble before it reached him.
Trying to give him her strength, she snuggled in even more.
“I thought...” Dry-eyed, he stared up at the tree, making himself see the leaves surrounded by blue sky, instead of the images from that day. “I thought they would succeed and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”
“You got away?” she asked in a very small voice.
“My cell mate showed up.” Mitch made sure to keep inflection out of his tone, to speak in a flat monotone—but he couldn’t censor the language. “He grabbed back one of the guys and that was all the leverage I needed. I kicked that bastard in the face, dislocating his jaw and shattering his nose. Broke the other one’s arm in two places, then punched him in the balls.”
Nodding against him, she whispered fiercely, “Good.”
It made him smile, this ferocious side of her and wasn’t that crazy?
No, that was Charlotte. He turned his face to kiss the top of her head, to slowly breathe in the fragrance of her skin and hair.
“The other guy—he’d terrorized so many people, and I’d had enough. I figured I was already in prison and if I stayed there, so what. At least it’d be on my terms without some asshole preying on me constantly. So I punched him in the throat and collapsed his esophagus. While he choked for air, I kneed in his nuts—making sure he wouldn’t rape anyone else.”
“Good,” she said again. Then went one further to add, “That makes you a hero.”