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“Of course.” He smiled coolly. “Because you’ll do anything to keep Rock safe.”

“Happy to be of service.”

Not smart, not smart.

Chandler’s jaw worked. “You’re thinking: What’s to stop the two of you from getting together despite what his family wants? Despite what’s obviously best for him?”

“If you’re taking up mind-reading you better keep your day job.”

He eyed me a little too long for comfort. Then the frown faded. That cynical smile reappeared–sunrise on the day after the Zombie apocalypse.

“I didn’t get where I am by losing, son. All you need to know is this: If you fuck with me? If you even think about fucking with me? It’s gonna beRockwho pays the price.”

He was bargaining with Rock’s happiness.

“But you care about him.” I wasn’t wrong about that. Chandler cared about Rock’s day-to-day happiness a hell of a lot more than his parents did.

“It’s because I care about him that I need to tear him away from this thing he wants with other men. If a kid gets hold of some dangerous toy, you take it away. They say they’ll hate you forever, but it’s the right thing to do. I take care of my family. And I will fight every evil thing those liberal bastards try to shove down decent folks’ throats in the name of political correctness. I stand for what I believe in, and folks who stand against me will pay a steep damn price. Every. Single. Time.”

Had Sterling Chandler just compared me to a dangerous toy?

I said the only thing I could think of: “Yessir.”