Page 215 of Daddy’s Fortitude

What was his name? Fred? Frank? That was it. Frank Allan.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” Frank waved the gun around, and it was clear to see he was close to losing it.

Ammo wondered if he should push him right over the edge, but he was obviously a bit trigger happy.

Calm the situation down.

You need to get this under control before Aimee arrives.

She must have heard the gun shot. Perhaps she was doing the smart thing and hiding . . . but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be that lucky.

Then movement from behind the guy caught his eye.

And he saw Aimee creeping up toward Frank with a plank of wood in her hand. Where the hell had she gotten that? Actually, it looked similar to the planks of wood that made up the side of the shed that the toilet was housed in. Had she somehow pulled that off?

And she must have crept around to the other part of the path, because if she’d come straight from the toilet, the gunman would have seen her.

What did she think she was doing? He took his gaze back off her, not wanting to alert the gunman that she was there. But he shook his head. Hopefully she understood that he was shaking his head at her.

“You were in the wrong, Frank. You deserve to go to jail and you know it. I didn’t put you there. You put yourself there.”

“No,” Frank screamed. “You were the one that found me, that took me back to jail. I’ve spent years there rotting away. My kids have grown up. I don’t even know where they are. I can’t find them. Can’t find my wife. But I did manage to find you.”

“How did you find me?” he asked.

He’d thought it would be near impossible to track him.

“I couldn’t figure out where you were. You hid yourself well. I knew your name and your approximate age, but that was it. However, I made some friends in jail, didn’t I? And one of those friends is real good on a computer. He found your address, but it was just a P.O. Box. We couldn’t figure out where you actually lived.”

Oh, fuck. He should have realized. “You were the one sending me those threatening letters.”

Ammo hadn’t even read the last ones. He’d stuffed them somewhere. They were probably still in the pocket of his other jeans.

“Yeah, I was the one sending those letters. Didn’t think I was going to find you. And then I was scrolling on social media and guess what popped up? A video of you in a place called Greasy Knob playing the knight in shining armor. Too bad people don’t know the real you, huh? The guy that would tear families apart and ruin lives.”

Fuck. Those fucking videos. He should have made more of an effort to get rid of them. And maybe he should have paid more attention to the death threats he’d been receiving. At the time, he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t thought they were real. And even if they were, it wasn’t like he couldn’t defend himself. Or that he had that much to lose.

Now, he had everything to lose.

But he wasn’t going to die. And Aimee definitely wasn’t.

However, it seemed that Aimee hadn’t understood his head shake at all, or she had and she was choosing to ignore it because she was nearly upon the gunman.

Ammo’s heart raced, but he prepared himself to jump. He was only going to have one chance, and there was no fucking way that Frank was going to shoot his girl.

She raised the plank over her head, and Frank must have sensed something, because he half-turned toward her. That’s when Ammo jumped. The plank of wood missed Frank’s head, which was where he assumed she was aiming. But by some sheer chance, it landed on the arm that was holding the gun, and he dropped it.

Ammo slammed into him, landing several punches until the guy went limp and fell unconscious. He finally had to force himself to pull back. He wanted to keep going.

Killing this fucker would just ruin his life. As much as he deserved it.

“Oh my God, Webb,” Aimee screamed. She rushed over toward Webb, who was very still.

Fuck. Fuck!

He was surrounded by a pool of blood, and for a moment, Ammo’s heart stopped.

He didn’t think he cared for Webb; didn’t think he cared about anybody but Aimee and Zander.