Page 38 of Nuts

“You think you’re going to come in my house and--”

I planted my boot against his chin. The impact knocked his head into the wall behind him.

“Shitty feeling, being beaten when you can’t defend yourself, isn’t it?” I asked. “Now you know how she felt. Defenseless.”

Saying it caused my blood to boil. The thought of him hitting Smudge hard enough to swell her eye closed sickened me.

I kicked him again, and again, and again.

When I came to my senses, I realized he was unconscious.

I walked to the kitchen, dug through the cabinets, and found a large bowl. After filling it with a few pounds of ice and some water, I carried it into the living room.

I poured the freezing water on his face.

He snapped to life. After spitting blood on the floor for a moment, he tilted his head upward. I had my doubts as to whether he could see me or not, but at least he was trying.

“We in agreement here?” I asked.

He nodded.

A puddle of blood had pooled on the floor. The wall behind him was covered in blood splatters from my kicking him.

The living room and adjacent hallway wall looked like a mass murder crime scene.

As much as I wanted to continue, I realized beating him any more would be the death of him. He’d require a hundred or so stitches, having his nose fixed, and he surely had a few broken ribs.

He spat on the floor and looked up.

I grinned at my handiwork. Dental implants. He’d need a few of those, too.

As he fumbled to get to his feet, I shook my head and turned away.

“I meant what I said,” I said over my shoulder. “Don’t come near her. Not for any reason. You lost the right.”

I opened the door, paused, and then turned around.

Standing a few feet in front of me with his hands still secured behind his back, he was truly defenseless.

Just like his stepdaughter was when he beat her.

I swung the toe of my right boot directly into his nuts.

He coughed out a mouthful of blood and crumbled to the floor.

That one was for Smudge, asshole.

Chapter Fifteen

Joey

It had been a week since Josh got his education. With Percy in Vista looking at a baseball card collection, I’d taken it upon myself to cook dinner.

I couldn’t decide whether to set the table or not, and then chose against it. I didn’t want him to think I perceived the meal as romantic, or that I looked at him that way. I simply wanted to show my gratitude for what he’d done for me, and cooking for him was the only thing I could think of.

As soon as I pulled the bread from the oven, I heard his motorcycle coming down the block.

While I adjusted my placement of the food I’d prepared, the front door opened.