The trucker stares at me like he's not sure if he's still alive.
He then lifts a hand to his ear and looks down at his bloody fingers.
Lucky for him, I'm a good shot. I missed his head by half an inch, but at least he'll have a chunk of his ear missing to remind him of tonight.
Harper tugs at my arm, but I can't take my eyes off this slimeball.
"Want to hear something ironic?" I growl at him. "This girl you were about to force yourself on is the only reason your kids still have a father. Lucky for you that one of us respects women. She doesn't need to see the contents of your head splattered all over the floor. Stand up, you fucking weasel."
The trucker clambers to his feet and pulls up his pants. He stares down at my gun, so I drop it to the floor.
"Fancy your chances, huh? Please," I say, grinning. "Make my fucking day. Give me a reason to end you."
"Mr. Collins, stop," Harper pleads.
I stamp my foot hard, and the pervert jumps so fast he loses his balance. Something falls from his pocket as he flails his arms and runs for his truck. Pushing Harper's hand away, I walk over and pick up his wallet.
"Get in the car, kiddo," he says. "I won't be long."
"Mr. Collins, please. Just leave it. We can take his registration and give it to the police or something."
Police? Bless her innocence.
I shake my head and start running. "Get in the car!"
The overweight guy I'm chasing gasps for breath as I reach his truck before he does.
"I don't want no more trouble, sir," he pants, lowering his hands to his knees.
"You dropped this." I lean against his open door and flick through his wallet. "Nice kids. How old are they?"
"Please. I just want to—"
"Seventeen? Eighteen?" I ask him.
He stands tall and gulps hard. "Boy's eighteen. Girl's nineteen. Not that I see them. Ex-wife has custody."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I sigh. "Your daughter here is three years younger than the girl you just tried to…"
I grind my teeth. The whole thing makes me want to vomit.
"How would you feel if some degenerate cockroach did anything like that to your little girl?"
He looks at the floor. "I'd kill the bastard." The rain is softening as I pull out a cigarette and light it. I then toss him the pack. "What's this for?"
"A parting gift," I say, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke between us. "You know who I am?"
He frowns. "The girl called you—"
"Harper," I snap. "Her name is Harper."
"Sorry. Harper called you Mr. Collins." I take another drag and lock my unblinking eyes on his. It takes around ten seconds, but the slimeball's expression warps as the realization of what he's done here tonight finally sinks in. "Chris Collins?"
"Yup." I take his driver's license from his wallet and toss it back to him. "So I'm guessing you also know what that means?"
His rosy cheeks turn white and he nods once.
"Good," I say. "Despite what you may have heard, I'm not a total monster. I'll give you two weeks to sort out your affairs."
He's done bargaining and pleading as he mumbles, "Okay."
"No point running or hiding. I have people everywhere."
"I know."
"Right, then," I say, taking a final drag and tossing my lit cigarette inside the cabin of his truck. "Oops."
Walking up to him, I lay a hand on his shoulder and pull his bloody ear closer to my mouth.
"Every action has a consequence, Duncan Maguire. I don't hurt people who don't deserve it. Enjoy the cigarettes. See you soon."
Harper still hasn't gotten in the car. She's just standing there in the softening rain with her arms folded, and I don't like what my mind is doing right now.
She really has turned into an attractive young woman. It doesn't help that I can see through her shirt. Harper Reeves is all woman now.
This is Harper fucking Reeves, I remind myself as I bend down to pick up my gun. She might be twenty-two, but she's still my best friend's daughter!
"What the hell was that all about?" she asks me as I pull open the driver's door.
"Get in the car."
"Were you going to kill him?"
I stuff my revolver back into the holster. "Have you forgotten what he tried to do to you?"
"Answer the question, Mr. Collins," she insists.
I don't need this shit tonight.
"Just get in the car, kiddo. You're shivering. And stop calling me 'Mr. Collins.' Makes me feel old. My name's Chris."
That pink bra isn't making this an easy conversation, but I smile when she raises an eyebrow. In this light, with her wet blonde hair several shades darker, she's the spitting image of her mother.
"What?" I say. "You want me to roll out the red carpet or something? Just get in the damn car. I'm a busy guy."
Muttering under her breath, Harper pulls open the passenger door and we both climb inside.
"No 'Hey Harper, long time no see,' or 'Hey Harper, how's college?' Didn't realize my dad was best friends with a total asshole."
"You're welcome," I mumble, straightening my shirt collar.
Harper folds her arms again and turns to me. "What?"
"I just saved you from whatever that animal was about to do to you. And what do I get in return? Sarcasm and attitude. Good to see that some things don't change."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she huffs. "I am grateful you showed up when you did. But you seemed to enjoy scaring that guy a little too much. I haven't seen you in like five Christmases. You just stopped visiting."
"Sorry," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas. We good now?"
Harper fails to swallow a smile. "Idiot. I'm not a kid."
"Hey." Resting my hand on the side of her seat, I lean closer and lower my voice. "I need to tell you something." Her gaze flickers to my lips. "Santa isn't real, kiddo."
Wow. Even the eye roll reminds me of her mother.
"You should get a refund," she says.
"For what?"
"The comedy classes. You're so not funny." Harper glances down at my forearm and her cheeks turn pink when I catch her staring. "Nice arms…"
I frown. "Huh?"
"No!" she shouts, wide-eyed. "I mean, you're wet. Arm! Your arm is wet."
"Yeah." I snicker. "That'll be the rain. Gets me every time."
She really needs to stop with the eye-rolling. They're so much bluer than I remember.
"Careful, Mr. Collins. You almost made me smile."
I lean across her left thigh and reach out a hand.
"My name is Chris…" I whisper.
With her twinkling eyes locked on mine, Harper stops breathing as I smirk and pull open the glove box.
"Relax," I tell her. "Just grabbing you a handkerchief…"
Her blue eyes flicker down, and they grow wide when she spots the roofies I took from the scumbag at my club.
Shit.