Page 41 of Colt
The driver’s door opened and a man got out. He was about my height but softer around the middle, wearing khakis and a polo shirt that screamed middle management.
His face was twisted with anger.
“Where is she?” he demanded, marching toward the porch. “Where’s the woman who raised that little thug?”
I set down my wrench and stepped outside, positioning myself between him and the door. “Something I can help you with?”
He stopped short when he saw me, taking in the cut, the tattoos, my general don’t-fuck-with-me demeanor. Some of the bluster faded from his face, but he squared his shoulders.
“I’m looking for Miss James. Or whoever’s responsible for that kid who attacked my son.”
“That would be me.” I didn’t move from the doorway. “I’m Luca’s father.”
His eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Of course you are. Look at you. No wonder the kid’s a violent little—”
“Careful.” My voice went flat. “Real careful now.”
Behind me, I heard the screen door open. Lilac stepped onto the porch, her face pale but her voice steady. “What’s going on?”
“This is Tyler’s father, I assume.” I kept my eyes on the man. “He’s here to complain about Luca defending you.”
“Defending?” The man laughed harshly. “Is that what you call attacking my son? Tyler needed ice on his nose for an hour. He could have been seriously hurt.”
“Your son called my—” I stopped, remembering the boys might be listening. “Called Lilac names. Sexual slurs. About a six-year-old’s mama. To his face.”
“That’s not what Tyler said.”
“Then Tyler’s a liar on top of being a bully.” I took a step forward, and the man took a step back. “Your kid is three years older than mine. He went after a little boy with verbal abuse about his mama, and when that little boy stood up for himself, your kid ran to a teacher.”
“Now listen here—”
“No, you listen.” Another step forward. The man was backing toward his truck now, his face pale. “My son is six years old. He’s been through things your kid can’t even imagine. And whensome little shit decides to talk trash about his mama, he has every right to defend her.”
“He broke school rules—”
“He defended his family. Something you might want to teach your own kid about, instead of raising a bully who punches down and then cries about consequences.”
The man’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. I could smell his fear now—the sour tang of a man who’d expected to intimidate a single mother and found something very different instead.
“If Tyler ever speaks to either of my sons again—about anything—I’ll know about it.” I stopped close enough that he had to crane his neck to meet my eyes. “And I won’t send a kid to deal with it. I’ll come myself. Are we clear?”
“I’ll—I’ll call the police. This is harassment.”
“You came to this house. You came to threaten a woman and her children.” I smiled, and watched the color drain from his face. “Call whoever you want. Explain to them why you’re harassing a family because your bully of a son got exactly what he deserved.”
“You—this isn’t—” He was fumbling for his truck door now, nearly tripping over his own feet. “This isn’t over.”
“Yeah, it is.” I stepped back, giving him room to escape. “Drive safe now.”
He practically threw himself into his truck, the engine roaring to life as he reversed out of the driveway. His tires squealed on the pavement as he sped away.
I watched until his taillights disappeared, then turned back to the porch.
Lilac was staring at me, her expression unreadable. Behind her, through the screen door, I could see two small faces pressed against the mesh—the boys, watching with wide eyes.
“Inside,” Lilac told them. “Now.”
They disappeared, and Lilac stepped toward me. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly.
