across his shoulders. “No guessing about it. I know. Now come on. Let’s see if I can rustle us up any of the mulled apple cider they were drinking the other day.”
Jeremy nodded.
As they started walking toward the kitchen, they heard a scream. Loud, feminine and terrified.
“Wait here.” Pushing the kid back, Damien rushed into the great room. There, cowering in a corner near the fireplace, crouched Sharon, Darius’s wife. Darius stood over her holding a fire poker.
Chapter 4
“Darius.” Damien spoke in a calm, measured voice. “What are you doing?”
When the older man swung his head around and attempted to focus his bloodshot eyes on his son, Damien realized his father was once again drunk.
Smashed, plastered, blotto.
Behind him, he heard a gasp. Jeremy had ignored his request to stay behind.
“Jeremy, go back in the kitchen.”
“No.” The fourteen-year-old’s voice wavered, but he stood his ground.
Damien returned his attention to his father. “Put the poker down.”
“This is a family matter,” Darius snarled. “Nothing to do with you.”
The inference being that he wasn’t family. Used to his father’s jabs, Damien ignored that, aware he had to steer Darius away from Sharon. Redirecting his anger might be the only way to accomplish that. But first, he had to make sure Jeremy was out of the way.
“What are you doing, Darius?” Damien moved closer, praying his nephew had the good sense to stay back. “Sharon’s your wife. Surely you don’t mean to hurt her?”
Confusion briefly flashed across Darius’s mottled face, before the alcohol-inspired rage replaced it. “She belongs to me, boy. I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”
Sharon made a soft moan of pain, drawing Darius’s attention.
“Darius,” Damien barked, taking another step forward. “Like hell you will. You’ll have to go through me first.”
“Fine,” Darius snarled. “I will.”
He swung the poker at Damien at the same moment as Damien kicked out his leg. The old man fell, the poker went flying into the bricks with a clatter, and Sharon Colton crumpled to the rug, unconscious.
Narrowly missing hitting his head on the hearth, Darius let out a bellow of fury and frustration and pain as he climbed toward his feet, starting for his wife.
After kicking the fireplace tool over to Jeremy, Damien grabbed his father, afraid Darius would start whaling on Sharon with his fists next.
Instead, as Damien wrapped him in a bear hug, the elder Colton folded up into himself, wrapping his arms around his own middle and rocking. Crying great sobs, he mumbled under his breath to himself, tears streaming down his face, all the while shooting an occasional death glare up at his son.
Not sure how to take this bizarre behavior, Damien glanced at Jeremy. The teen appeared flabbergasted and shell-shocked. Not good. He needed something to do.
“Jeremy, check on Sharon.” Barking out the order, he saw his nephew jump. “Make sure she’s breathing.”
While Jeremy hurried over, Damien slowly let go of his father, who had hunched over and was now making a soft keening sound, like a wounded animal.
Obviously, he had more going on than a problem with alcohol.
“She’s breathing,” Jeremy said, checking his stepmother’s pulse. “I think she just fainted.”
“Okay, good.” Trying to think what to do, Damien fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called his twin brother.
“Be right there,” Duke said, after Damien explained the situation.
Darius’s keening grew louder.
“What’s wrong with him?” Wide-eyed, Jeremy stared at his grandfather. “Is he having a stroke?”
“I don’t know. He’s having something. Let’s see if we can get Sharon to wake up. I want to make sure she didn’t hit her head or injure herself in any way.”
As soon as he got close to Sharon, Damien smelled the strong scent of alcohol. “She’s been drinking,” he said flatly.
“Maybe she and Darius were drinking together.”
“Maybe.” But in his experience, Darius’s wife did as little as possible with her husband. In fact, she seemed to go out of her way to avoid him. His brothers had already begun taking bets as to how long she could hold out.
During his time home with Darius, Damien couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he’d have hightailed it out of Honey Creek a long time ago.
Maybe she was like him. He took another look at her, still out of it and now snoring peacefully. Maybe she had nowhere else to go and no money of her own to make a new life. As with both his previous wives, Darius had most likely made her sign a prenup, ensuring she got nothing if she left.
“Hey, guys. What happened?” The tension seemed to dissipate slightly as Duke strode into the room. Ignoring their father, who’d gone silent and appeared to have passed out, he crossed to Damien and Jeremy.
Briefly, Damien relayed the night’s events, letting Jeremy interject with his story. When they’d finished, Duke shook his head. “You know, Maisie’s been trying to tell me things were getting bad here. I thought she was being her usual melodramatic self.”
“If Maisie’s been dealing with stuff like this, why the hell is she leaving Jeremy here alone?”
Duke looked directly at Jeremy. “Have you witnessed this sort of behavior much before now?”
“No, sir, not this bad. Lot’s of yellin’ and name-callin’. But nothing physical. Not like this at all. Darius hasn’t ever acted so crazy.”
“He’s drunk,” Damien said. “Not that being soused excused him acting like this, but it sure helps explain it.”
“How do you know he’s drunk?” Duke asked.
“Go take a whiff of him. He smells like he’s taken a bath in Scotch.”
“And Sharon’s drunk, too,” Jeremy added. “But she smells more like wine than hard stuff.”
“I’ll take your word for it. That’s all the proof I need.” Duke didn’t even bother walking over to Darius. “Will you help me get Sharon to her room?”
“Sure,” Damien nodded. “But what about him?”
“We’ll come back and get him next.”
Once they had both
