“What the fuck is he doing here?” He’d taken that simple walk to clear his head, calm him down, put him in more of a mind to make up with her. Usually, by the time he got back, she had cleared herself up a little, gotten her hair back to pre-fight neatness, applied a little foundation to cover up the bruises, all ready to forgive and forget.
This time, instead of seeing her back to attempted-perfection, all smiles and the possibility of fucking that night, he opened the door to him, his girlfriend in his arms, crying into his shoulder.
Mark Hoffman. It always puzzled him, the difference in surnames, but he’d never demanded a reason for it; he preferred to think that her cop brother didn’t exist. It was hard to ignore the bastard, the way he’d keep calling, asking for hourly updates from Angelina, the way he’d invade their home, place himself firmly between Seth and his sister, literally in this case, his arms shielding her as he squeezed her body.
Yeah, bet you want to feel that ass, fucking piece of shit. There had to be some truth in that thought, the way Hoffman never seemed to have a girlfriend, just his sister... The clingy fuck was too overprotective for comfort, in his opinion.
“Angelina! I asked a fucking question!”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.” Hoffman turned to look at him, those piercing blue eyes glaring at him in accusation. It was just typical of him, to view his sister as completely innocent, as if she didn’t contribute as much as he did to the arguments that always preceded their fights. He let Angelina out of his embrace, hands lingering too long on those shoulders.
“Tell me what you’re fucking doing here, before I-”
“Before you do what you did to my sister to me? Careful. I bite back.”
“This is my house, she’s under my roof, she doesn’t fucking need you.”
“That so?” That fucking smirk. It was one of the features of the man that Seth could stand the least, that self-satisfied smile that seemed to signify that he was superior to everything, especially some piece of white trash who happened to be banging his sister. “And she needs to be beaten around? She needs to feel helpless? She needs to have to check she’s still breathing by the end? She needs to feel scared for her fucking life?”
“I never fucking hurt her!” he spat, glancing at Angelina, who had taken a seat, hunched over, still sniveling in shock, obviously putting on a show for her big brother. Lying whore.
“Bullshit,” Hoffman snarled back, stepping forward, an attempt to intimidate him, judging from the way he seemed to be making those few inches of height work against him.
“Don’t you think she’s old enough to make her own choices? Think she might actually be able to deal with it herself?”
The detective leaned in, until his face was almost touching Seth’s, his eyes on the same level, that smell of spicy-fresh cologne too intense, causing him to wince.
“Listen closely, Baxter. You’re right, she can make her own decisions. And she decided to call me in. So, here’s the deal. You don’t make her feel like you’re going to kill her. You don’t fucking beat her around. You don’t harm her in any way. If you do... I’ll fucking tear you apart, Baxter, that you can be sure of. So, before you even think about raising a hand against her, just remember... I’ll kill you, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you.”
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