Page 96 of Ruptured
Leering, Tom yanked Tabitha to her feet and ripped away her sweater dress.
Tabitha screamed. “Don’t, please!”
“Stop, goddamn it!” Johnnie roared as Easton jumped up and shoved Tom away.
“You can’t have this fuckhead rape this girl,” Johnnie snarled, standing next to Easton and helping to block her from Tom.
“Fuck you,” Bash said, flipping back into a dangerous psycho.
“No, fuck you. I have a fucking wife. A daughter. Nieces. Cousins. A sister-in-law.” He pointed in the direction Celia had fled. “A sister. It’s bad enough I have to watch you kill innocent women. You aren’t assaulting one in front of me.”
“She’s not our niece, so it shouldn’t matter,” Bash declared.
“I don’t give a fuck. She’s an innocent woman.” He turned to Tom, ignoring hostility floating toward him.
Easton swept Tabitha into his arms and carried her away. No one stopped him, a good sign to Johnnie.
He turned to Tom. “Name your price to bring Molly back. Whatever it is.”
“It’s out of your price range,” Tom sneered.
“Try me.”
“Zero.”
“I…what?”
“No fucking amount of money will make me give that cunt up,” Tom barked. “Ryan told me CJ wanted that bitch. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow that arrogant fuckhead to have her.”
“Ryan regrets—”
“Shut the fuck up, Johnnie. I swear to you, bring her up to me again and I’ll kill her sooner rather than later.”
“Tom, listen to me. She can do worse than CJ.”
“That’s rich, coming from you. When you don’t even like that motherfucker.”
“Forget that—”
“Fuck you. All roads lead to CJ, except my daughter. That one leads to her death.”
February 28th
As angry as he’d been with his son last week, and he still had instances of fury, Christopher still couldn’t believe…fuck, a lot. He couldn’t believe afucktonof fucked up shit that shouldn’t have fucking happened.
He ached to hold his wife in their bed with everything fucking normal again. Sitting at his table in his nearly deserted clubhouse, nursing a bottle of tequila, Christopher didn’t feellike being bothered with anyone. He didn’t want to go home—Megan wasn’t there.
Rebel wasn’t there.
Rulewasn’t there.
Despite how he tried to fight it, despite his goddamn pussy-ass whining, his anger and failure shamed him. He was guilty of acting like a fuckhead, which led him to think like a fuckhead, especially toward his Megan.
He wasn’t a man who second-guessed himself or suffered regret for many things. It fucked with the psyche and weighed a motherfucker down. And he didn’t blame others for the consequences of his decisions,especiallyMegan.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he flinched. The grief that almost brought him to his knees when he thought he’d lost Jo and Megan swamped him now. It colored his thinking and fueled all his other emotions.
He’d fucking failed his family. If Megan hadn’t gone to the natatorium when she had, Rebel would’ve drowned.
