Untamed (107 page)

The hard metal barrel jabs painfully into the small of my back. I wince, shift my weight, but Frank’s strong hand grips my shoulder.

He leans forward, whispers into my ear: “Sit still, Deidre. Don’t make this difficult.”

Rain slaps against the windows, and the crack of thunder booms, echoes in the room. Dad is pacing around Duncan and the huge man. He’s jittery, screaming at them.

“Get him, Bullock! Tear him up!” His voice is shrill, excited. He gets off on this stuff. He’s sick.

“Frank,” I whisper. “Frank, don’t do this.”

“Deidre,” he says. “I always liked you. I always treated you like my own niece. But you need to shut up right now.”

“Frank, listen to me,” I hiss hurriedly. The words are rushing out of my mouth. I can’t keep up with my thoughts.

“Dei—”

“Frank!” I say, turning around, catching his eye out of the corner of my own. “How long was my father making you go through my trash?”

He doesn’t reply.

“How long, Frank? Years? Did that make you feel good? Did it?”

“Of course not,” he says quietly.

Duncan grunts as Bullock thumps him in the gut, doubles over. The knife sings through the air, but Duncan spins out of the way at the last minute, but fails to dodge the cutting counter-swipe. He grabs his face, backs away from Bullock, and his hand comes away stained red.

“God damn it, Frank!” I growl, breathing hard. “He’s going to kill Duncan. Damn it, Frank, Dad is trying to steal our baby! Do you know why?”

“I said shut up!” Frank snarls into my ear. He pushes the gun harder into my back.

“I know you won’t shoot me, Frank. I know you can’t. You know I’m pregnant. Isn’t this breaking your heart, pointing a gun at a pregnant girl? At someone you thought of as your own family? I always trusted you, Frank. Whenever Dad had it out at me, I always came to you to talk. Don’t you remember? We used to sit in the garden, you’d tell me all about your day. Don’t you feel responsible? Don’t I matter to you?”

He meets me with silence.

Duncan dodges another swing of the shimmering knife, spins, pivots on his heel and lands a thunderous elbow into Bullock’s sternum. The huge man staggers backward, winded, gripping onto his chest and struggling to breathe.

“Frank, this baby is mine. Dad only came out here when he found out it was a boy, right? Am I wrong?”

No reply, which means I’m right.

“He wants the son he never had! He wants someone he can train, someone he can tame! He wants to make
my boy
into the fighter he could never be! Don’t you understand? All he cares about is
legacy
!”