Not for the first time in my life, I’d badly miscalculated. I attempted to slam the door, but a big, booted foot prevented me closing it. Steel-toed, of course. He always wore steel-toed boots.
Harvey grabbed me by the shirt-front and hauled me out onto my front porch. He held on tight as he shook me like a rag doll. “Where the fuck is Cheyenne?”
You’re not eight. You can fight back. Except I didn’t want to. I was a strong believer in nonviolence. Every bone in my body rebelled against the idea of raising a finger against anyone, even this guy. But Harvey had never listened to words.
This is for Cheyenne. I planted my feet on the ground and glared at the vicious asshole. “Cheyenne’s not here. I have no idea where she is. She stole my phone and took off.” Please believe me. I was never a competent liar—or good at praying—but I’d do both if it kept my sister safe.
His grip tightened. “I don’t believe you. Denver says she never checked into any motel like your daddy told her. He says she’s still here.”
Fucking Denver. Just had to be chummy with the biggest bully in Piperston. Big fucking surprise—like seeks like. Denver’s bullying tendencies hadn’t been nearly as strong as Harvey’s, but I’d caught him harassing some of the weaker boys in his class at school. When I tried to intervene, Dad said those sissies needed toughening up. One reason I’d never gone to him about Harvey.
“I swear she’s not here. I don’t know where she is.” Hopefully far away from here. Hopefully Arthur’s keeping her?—
“Let go of him, Harvey!” Cheyenne jogged toward us, Sadie skittering around on her leash at my sister’s side. Behind her, Arthur was hobbling as fast as his cane would let him.
Shit.
Fucking hell.
My nemesis slammed me against the doorjamb, knocking the wind from my lungs and whacking my head on the door. Then he whirled and stalked down my front walk. “Get in the goddamn truck, Cheyenne, or I swear, you’ll be sorry. You won’t like what I can do to them.”
I blinked. Who are them? Me? Arthur? The dogs? I tried to shake my head, still off-balance from the impact.
Harvey stomped to the sidewalk where Arthur and Cheyenne stood.
Arthur, silly man, was trying to put himself between Harvey and my sister. He’d handed her the leashes and was sort of brandishing his cane.
I adored him, but even as he tried to convey strength, his leg was clearly giving him problems. Probably ran here when they heard the bellowing. So much for heeding my warning.
Yeah, but if Arthur was in trouble, would you stay away?
To protect Cheyenne? Maybe.
“Harvey, you’re not wanted here.” I injected as much determination into my voice as I could. “I’ll thank you to get in your pickup, and get the hell out of here before I call the cops.”
He pivoted back to glare at me and my stomach dropped.
I knew that look. Had seen it many times. Had endured what usually came next.
Arthur raising the cane appeared to give my nemesis pause.
I didn’t know if my boyfriend could do any real damage with the cane—although blunt instruments rarely required precision—but I worried about the risk to himself if he tried.
“What are you doing here?” Cheyenne had stopped out of Harvey’s reach, peering around Arthur. She stuck her chin in the air.
I heard the quaver.
Likely Harvey did too. Men like him got off on having others tremble and cower.
I said, “Harvey’s just leaving.” Slowly, I strode the few steps off my porch and down toward the street, trying to sound confident, trying to seem imposing. Hiding the way my own belly quivered like Cheyenne’s voice.
Again, Harvey glared. “I’ll take my future wife and be on my way.”
Cheyenne barked a laugh. “No fucking way am I marrying you.”
Great, Cheyenne, poke the beast. Back where we came from, women didn’t swear and they didn’t answer back. That just wasn’t a thing. Not if they knew what was good for them.
Harvey’s nostrils flared as he glowered at me. “You let her get away with such filthy language?”
