“Tell me that again.”
“I want your wife. I want to raise her kids as my own, and provide for her. I want to suck on those beautiful tits—”
The last word cuts off as I squeeze his windpipe shut. Johnny grabs my hands and yanks, but he can’t throw me off. I’m going to watch Frank Boucher die in my hands. I’ll feel his pulse fade to nothing. Then someone grabs me in a choke hold and my hands fall from Boucher’s neck.
“HE IS TRYING TO PROVOKE YOU!”
Half his face is covered in dirt as he rolls on the forest floor, leaves sticking to his mouth. He blows them off and laughs, inhaling deep breaths and exhaling them in laughter.
“She’ll come back to me once all of you are RICO’d for accessories to kidnapping.”
“We have a video of you beating the shit out of some kid on dash cam. If you don’t let this go, we’ll release it on social media and send copies to major news outlets. You’ll never work as a cop again. All your work will be discredited.”
Johnny plays the video right under his nose, but Frank doesn’t even watch it. He stares at me, those blue eyes burning.
“I wanted her the moment I met her.”
Johnny turns his head toward me, and I can sense that he’s worried. “Watch the fucking video!”
He ignores him. “Where were you all those times she cried over you? Rotting in a jail cell. I care about her—you don’t. You want her, but you never even asked yourself if you deserve her. You don’t!” He utters the last two words with so much force that birds in a nearby tree fly away in alarm.
“And you think you do?” I almost want to laugh at the determination on his pathetic face. “You’re a creep. You’re a dirty cop.”
“Fuck you. I’m doing everything I can to get rid of scum like you.”
“People hate dirty cops more than they hate gangsters. You’re a fucking snake, and I would put a bullet in your head right fucking now if I could.”
He straightens. “Go ahead. See what happens when you kill an RCMP officer, fuckhead. Claire will never speak to you again.”
My laughter rings in the forest. She’s the one who begged me to kill him the moment she got out of jail.
“She’s said no to you time after time, and yet you keep crawling back no matter how many times you’ve been kicked. Where the fuck are your balls?”
“They’re right here. I’m doing the right thing.”
Johnny shoves my chest hard. “Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Then he stands near Boucher’s head, his hair splayed on the ground. The cop blinks at the boots centimeters from his face.
He shoves the cell phone in front of Boucher’s face so that he can’t look away from the video. “This gets sent to every liberal cop-hating tree hugger in the country if you don’t take a fucking step back. Ask yourself if your career is worth throwing away over a woman.”
My chest heats at Johnny’s words.
She’s worth it.
Boucher smiles grimly as Johnny pulls out a deadly-looking knife and saws off the zip ties. The cop sits up, digging his fingers into the earth as he stares downward.
He’s never going to stop.
* * *
Silent tears drip down Claire’s face, luminescent as the streetlights cast a gentle glow on her face. She holds Étienne to her breast, hands running over the baby ceaselessly. I didn’t even get to hold him yet.
“How long?” she asks in a choked voice that cuts into my heart.
“I don’t know, Claire. Until Boucher fades away, I think it’s best for Étienne to live with my parents for a while.”
Her lip quivers and she gives me a stiff nod. I know she’s trying not to cry. I know that this is fucking hell for her. It’s hard for me, too, but I feel better knowing my son is out of that psycho’s reach.
“I know, it’s just—we just got him back.”
Forty-eight hours of waiting and frantic phone calls and screaming at CPS representatives, and we finally had our son in our hands.
I walk to her side and stroke her wavy, long hair. I squeeze her hips and kiss her cheek.
“Can I hold him before we go in?”
She nods, barely able to say a word, and hands Étienne into my arms. I need to hold my son, feel his heat against my chest.
“Da!”
Étienne’s wide grin makes my eyes burn, and then I feel my chest caving in when I look at my parents’ home.
I feel like a failure.
She grips my waist and we walk to porch. Claire knocks on the door and it’s yanked open immediately.
“Claire, Luc. What are you doing here?”
My father’s booming voice immediately joins her. “Out! I told him, he’s not welcome.”