Outlaw's Promise(54)

I’d been her knight in shining fucking armor. And instead of being there to save her, I’d been off in Haywood Falls, dealing out vengeance to the enemies of the club, getting darker and darker, less of a hero each day. Why didn’t you call? I could have rescued her a year before, five years before….

I tossed the diary onto the pile on the bed, panting with rage. I’d failed, back then. I hadn’t known she needed help.

But I knew now.

I stomped down the stairs, no longer worried about making a noise. A good thing her step-dad wasn’t home, with what was going through my mind. I’d track him down, though, make him tell me where Volos was—

As I passed the living room, a noise made me freeze in the doorway. A kind of groan. I raised Caorthannach and stole forward.

There was an armchair that faced away from the door. And sprawled in it, hidden from the doorway by its back, was Annabelle’s step-dad. His mouth was slackly open, a bottle of whiskey nestled to his chest as if for comfort. He was so thoroughly passed out, he hadn’t even been aware of me.

I walked around the chair, never taking my eyes off him. The rage was white-hot, now, searing away thought and leaving only emotion. This was him. This was the man who’d hit her, who’d made her live in fear for so many years. This was the man who’d lusted after her. This was the man who’d sold his step-daughter.

I’ve dealt with a lot of despicable people in my life, but I’ve never hated a person so much.

I fingered Caorthannach, her engravings familiar and comforting. God, it would be so easy, so quick. One squeeze. Both triggers. He’d be gone. But I needed answers.

I didn’t want to have to speak to him. I hated him so much that it was almost worth losing out on the information, just to avoid it. But if I wanted to help Annabelle, I needed to get it out of him.

Alright, then.

I marched back upstairs to the bathroom and started the bath filling with cold water. Back downstairs, I took one last, disgusted look at him...and then grabbed a handful of his shirt and hauled him out of his chair.

He weighed almost nothing. The booze had turned his muscles to fat and then melted the fat away to leave him skinny and mean. He came awake as I dragged him across the living room. “What?” he slurred. “What do you want?”

I ignored him and dragged him up the stairs, his ass and legs bouncing off each step. He was grabbing at my hand, now, trying to free himself, but he didn’t have anywhere near the strength he needed.

We reached the bathroom and I dragged him over to the tub. I took one last look at his drunken, uncomprehending face….

And then I heaved him into the tub and pressed him down under the water.

He woke up fast. Water exploded out of the tub in white plumes as he thrashed but my arm was like iron, pinning him down to the bottom. The aim wasn’t to kill him. The aim was to sober him up, scare him and soften him so that he’d talk.

I waited three seconds and then loosened my hand a little, letting him rise towards the surface.

And then I remembered a phrase from her diary: purple flower. Back when the other girls had still played with her, Annabelle had gotten caught up playing and had come home too late to do her chores. Her step-dad had beaten her and the next day bruises Annabelle called the purple flower kind had risen all over her stomach and chest and she’d had to claim she had her period so that she wouldn’t have to get changed for gym class.#p#分页标题#e#

My hand pushed down until her step-dad was on the bottom of the tub again. As he realized I wasn’t letting him up, he began to kick, his boots hammering on the porcelain.

My hand loosened again. He rose until his face almost broke the surface….

I think maybe he has a spy hole, Annabelle had written. Or a camera. I don’t know. But I can feel him watching me, when I’m getting changed.

My hand pushed down again. And this time, it stayed. There were too many pages of misery in that diary. He’d done too much wrong.

He deserved to die.





32





Carrick





Footsteps downstairs, then running up towards me. Not the heavy footfalls of a man.

Annabelle burst into the bathroom, her face deathly pale. “Stop!” she yelled.

I looked at her, looked at her step-dad under the water...and didn’t move. This is what I do. This is vengeance. Not for the club, for once. For her. And maybe it was wrong but I was way past the point where I was going anywhere except hell. So I might as well take him with me.

“Carrick, stop!” She grabbed at my arm, but I was keeping that fucker pinned with everything I had. “Stop!”

Her step-dad’s struggles were slowing, now. “He deserves it.” My voice was rough with emotion.