My dad pushes by me, determined. He takes hold of the suitcase, shoves a few more things in it, and slams it shut.
“I won’t go to prison.”
“Coward,” I spit. And I move to block the door from the bedroom.
Then my father erupts.
“Get out of my way, Tiffany,” he says, setting the suitcase at his feet and raising his hands threateningly. “Get out of my way or I swear to God…”
“You’d hit me? I’m your daughter.”
The man that nods his head and takes another menacing step toward me isn’t my father. Not anymore.
“I don’t want to,” the stranger growls. “I love you, Tiffany, but there’s no way I will let you stand in my way. I’m leaving.”
There’s so much violence in his eyes that I don’t doubt for a second that he’ll hit me if he decides he has to.
Slowly, I take a step back.
Then another.
And I turn and I keep walking toward the kitchen. The man that used to be my father doesn’t follow me; I’m sure I’m nothing more than an afterthought to him compared to escaping to some safe haven far away.
But I don’t spend long in the kitchen. With one hand, I grab the largest knife I can find. With the other, I grab the portable landline phone he keeps next to the fridge. And I run out the back door on my hobbled foot, hardly registering the pain that sears up my leg, and sprint around the house to the driveway.
“What are you doing?” He shouts at me, his voice rising in pitch with desperation.
I hold the knife in front of me, stopping him as he’s halfway out the front door.
“Don’t move,” I say. My voice is cold. “I don’t care what you say, what threats you make, what you claim your motivations were, I will not let you get away. You will face the consequences, dad. And, if you move from that very spot you’re standing on, I will use this.”
With my free hand, I dial the police.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Blaze
There are voices at the edge of my consciousness. Voices that break through the cloud of pain and opioids that fog my thoughts. I can’t open my eyes, can hardly register who’s saying what, but I can still listen.
“He looks like shit.”
“Well, so do you. Except Blaze has been shot and beaten within an inch of his life. So what’s your excuse, Mack?”
“Christ almighty, Stone, I’m just making an observation. I didn’t mean nothing by it. When our boy wakes up, I’ll tell him how handsome he is.”
“So, not only are you going to insult him when he’s asleep, you’re going to lie to his face when he’s awake?”
“Harsh. Both of you need to chill out. Blaze has been through hell and recovery won’t be easy. And I’m sure he will remind us all of that fact whenever either of you play him in pool. Expect plenty of excuses about why he’s losing.”
“Oh fuck, we will never hear the end of it, will we? Just incessant bitching about his bum shoulder, like he’s some old man sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch, prattling on about how his funky joints are telling him the weather’s about to change.”
I stir. Open my eyes and see a world that’s nothing more than a vibrant smear and beams of light that blast pain into my skull.
I’d rather be asleep, but I can’t go back to sleep when my reputation is at stake.
“That might be true, Mack,” I say, and I stop for a second, surprised at how much like a frog’s croak my voice sounds. “But that still won’t stop me from wiping the floor with you.”
“Oh, our conquering hero has awakened. How do you feel, brother?” Crash says.
“Like Mack looks,” I answer. “Like a ruined, disgusting wreck of a person.”
“Lucky for you you’re already in a hospital, Blaze,” Mack says. “It means the doctors won’t have to go far when I beat your ass.”
Stone holds out his hand, though there’s really no need — Mack is grinning and he gives me a reassuring pat on the foot.
“How long have I been out, Stone?” I say.
“A while,” he says. “Any longer and I was going to see if Mack here was interested in playing your Prince Charming.”
“I’d rather you just pull the plug,” I say, laughing.
“You lost a lot of blood, brother. They had to give you a transfusion, and the doctors had to work on you for a while to patch you up from the number that Anna Ebri woman and her boys did to you,” Crash says. “You will be sore for a while.”
“And my mom? What’s her condition? Did you guys get the stuff from the SUV?”
Stone, Crash, and Mack all trade looks. My stomach about sinks out through my feet and into the floor — there’s never been a woman in this life more disappointed in me than my mother, and there’s no one on this earth that I care for more. Maybe there’s one equal. But, all I can think about is the woman who raised me, who sacrificed so many career opportunities to stay here in this small town and give me the best life that she could.
“The wreck ruined the laptop and the files you told us to get. I’m sorry, brother,” Crash says. “And your mom…”
Crash looks at Stone, who clears his throat.
“It’s not good,” Stone says. And, when I try to sit up, he puts a hand on my good shoulder and pushes me back into the hospital bed. “She’s in the operating room right now and has been for a long time. They’re doing stuff in stages. But the docs say that there
