Arissa went from pissed to terrified. Her phone was in her purse that was on the kitchen counter. The idea of Hank walking unknowingly into this had her moving from the door to get it even as she screamed, “His truck isn’t in the driveway. He’s not here. You call me his victim, but you’re the one terrifying a complete stranger.” She reached her purse, grabbed her phone and texted Hank.
There’s a pissed lunatic at your house. He’s trying to break in.
A wicked sly smile tipped the man’s lips up. “I scare you, Beautiful. I like them a little terrified.” He winked at her and licked his lips. “I’ll take you for a ride like I did with his last,” he said.
She was scared. “I’ve texted Hank.” She pressed herself against the counter hoping like hell Hank got back before this man got into the house.
“Oh,” the man cooed. “You texted him.” The man gave an exaggerated shake of a chill as he said, “So scary.” He put the pressure of his body against the door, his face smashed to the screen. “Come on, Sweetheart, let’s play. We can—”
His words were halted, his face disappeared from the screen along with his body. He let out a strangled groan. Hank had one arm around the guy’s throat, the man’s back pressed to Hank’s chest. “Who the fuck are you?” He grated out but didn’t let the man speak when he put pressure along his neck, cutting off his air supply. “Arissa!” Hank shouted. She approached the door cautiously. The fear he saw in her eyes caused him to increase his hold on the man. “You okay?”
“You’re choking him,” Arissa observed but he wasn’t sure if she was censuring him or encouraging him. If he had to guess, it was the latter.
Hank let up some of the pressure. He didn’t think killing a man on their first date made a very good impression.
“I’m okay, but he…” She gestured to the man. “Has startling anger management issues.”
Hank tried to hold back the chuckle but failed. Jesus. Even in the middle of a heated situation she was fucking cute. He was fucked. So fucked.
“Who are you?” Hank spit out.
The man’s feet started to scramble as he tried to gain his footing as Hank dragged him farther from the door.
“He said something about me being your next victim,” Arissa offered, turning her eyes on the man she spat, “You’re not so bad now, are you? When it’s someone your own size.”
Hank let Arissa’s words sink in, next victim? He let the man go as if his body started to burn him. The man dropped to his knees, hunched over and began to cough and choke through his words. “I’m—”
Hank didn’t have the patience for the man to regain his speaking when he finished for him. “Phoebe.”
The man turned his head to look up at Hank. “Yeah, she was my girlfriend and you fucked that up.” The man pushed himself up with a hand and came to his feet.
Arissa watched the two, her head moving back and forth between them because though she wasn’t privy to the whole of what they were discussing, she understood enough. She had questions, like who was Phoebe, and how did Hank screw things up for this man and her. Though, based on what she’d seen of the man, he’d screwed things up all on his own. Disappointment filled her because she had a feeling their date was over. She glanced over at Hank and knew from his expression, he was thinking the same thing.
Hank looked at Arissa, wasn’t happy with the expression on her face but told her. “I think maybe you should go.” He didn’t need her to hear about his past from some asshole, he rather the asshole be him. But now wasn’t the time for a sit down.
She was surprised at how hard that was to hear. She didn’t want to go, wanted more of what they’d started before he left to drop Vern off at bingo, but she turned from Hank and walked to the kitchen. She took a second to get herself together, because this was not how she saw their evening ending, then grabbed her purse and walked back outside.
“Thank you for dinner.” Her words sounded flat because thanking him for the meal wasn’t at all what she wanted to say, but they had an audience.
“Oh, did I mess up your date?” The man said with humor lacing his voice. In a quick move, Hank raised his leg and kicked the guy in the hip. The man’s legs buckled when he shouted, “Fuck.” And grabbed for his hip.
“I’ll call you later,” Hank said to Arissa. With the look on her face, the tone in her voice, Hank could only hope she picked the phone up when he did.
She smiled in reply, but not one that reached her eyes.
Hank watched her drive away, the anger inside growing the farther Arissa got from him. Hank wasted no time when he turned to the guy. “You got five fucking minutes to talk, go.”
The man’s demeanor changed, as he rubbed his hip and took in his surroundings. “Fuck, you got a nice place here.”
Jesus. It was just a house. His home. Why did everyone look at it like they had just seen water for the first time? “Four minutes,” Hank grated out.
The man’s voice grew harder when he asked, “Why are you calling my girl, asking her to come back?”
“Come again?” Hank said, leaning in toward the man making sure he heard him correctly.
“Yeah.” The guy nodded. “You’ve been calling her, asking her to come back to Summerville. She left me, said she needed to sort out her head.”
“I did not fucking call Phoebe.” Hank crossed his arms over his chest. “You think I’d try to get her back when I got that in my house?” Hank jerked his head to where they both last saw
