Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Mason had fast reflexes and got to his feet quickly, fists up and close to his face like he had some kind of training.
Dad stared him down, unintimidated, arms by his sides. “Come on, boy. Give me your best shot.”
“Dad.” I couldn’t believe the scene in front of my eyes. “Stop. He’s not worth it.”
Mason slowly lowered his hands but kept his fighting stance. “I’m not gonna beat up an old man—”
Dad struck with the speed of a fucking cobra, slamming his fist into Mason’s face so goddamn fast I didn’t even see it.
Mason flew back and hit a couple vacated chairs and a table.
“Old man, huh?” Dad came closer, his arms still by his sides.
Mason’s mouth dripped with blood, and he snarled as he looked at my father, like he was about to break every bone in his body.
I rushed forward to get in the way to protect my dad before he got seriously hurt.
But I didn’t need to.
Dad moved so fucking fast, it was like an action sequence. He slammed his fist into Mason’s face, broke his nose, punched him in the stomach, and then hit him again in his chin, all of it happening quicker than I could really see. When Mason finally tried to get his hits in, Dad moved like it was a dance, like he predicted every hit before it came. Then he grabbed Mason by the throat and squeezed him, choked him with a single hand, and got right in his face. “Hurt my daughter. I hurt you.” He shoved him back, making him land with a thud on the hardwood floor, choking violently, his face covered in blood.
Dad took it one step further and spat on him. “Look like this old man made you his bitch.”
The cops were called, Mason pressed charges, and my dad was arrested.
Arrested.
The cuffs were put on his wrists behind his back, and he stood there with the same calm expression, like he didn’t give a damn that he was about to be taken downtown. His eyes stayed on Mason the entire, like beating him bloody and humiliating him wasn’t enough retribution.
This man was an upstanding citizen, a hero, didn’t have a speeding ticket—and he was going to jail.
I had no idea what to do.
Mason had ice over his nose, and his friends tried to wipe up the blood while he sat broken in the chair, like he’d be in pain for a very long time.
I walked up to my dad. “Dad, what the fuck?”
He kept his eyes on Mason and ignored me.
“I don’t know what to do. Should I call Mom?”
Still nothing, like he was still pumped with adrenaline, like he needed to finish what he started and put Mason in the grave.
“Dad.” I moved in front of his eyes so he would be forced to look at me. “You’re going to spend the night in jail. Do you understand?”
His eyes focused on my face. “No regrets.”
“This is gonna be on the news—”
“Good.”
The cops grabbed him by the arms and escorted him outside and into the police car. They put him in the back seat, shut the door, and then drove off.
I couldn’t believe I was about to make this call, a call I never ever thought I’d have to make. When his taillights were out of sight, I pulled out my phone and called my mom.
She answered right away. “Hey, honey. Is your father on the way home?”
“Um…he’s on the way somewhere but not home.”
“Dex, what do you mean by that?”
I inhaled a deep breath before I told her the news. “Dad was arrested for assault. He’s gonna spend the night in jail unless we pay his bail.”
Mom and I checked in at the front, and then Mom pulled out her checkbook and wrote out the amount for his bail before she ripped it off and handed it to the clerk. “I can’t believe this.” The jail was cold and full of concrete, not the place for someone like Deacon Hamilton. “Is he okay?”
“Not a scratch on him, Mom.” I hadn’t wanted that exchange to happen, but I couldn’t help but be proud that my dad could open up a can of whoop-ass like that. Just on the fly. With no preparation at all. “I didn’t know Dad knew how to fight.”
She sighed. “That man knows how to do everything.”
We took a seat and waited until they were ready to lead us back to his cell and get him out of there.
Mom kept rubbing her temple, like this incident gave her a migraine. “What the hell happened?”
I told her everything, but it didn’t make much sense, because Dad was so calm and composed all the time, thought through every action before he made it. It was completely out of character for him to get into a bar fight. I pulled out my phone and checked to see if someone recorded it on their phone and posted it online.