Page 112 of Peaches & Pistols

Carter groans miserably in return.

I snort at Greyson calling him sweetheart. I don’t care enough to ask what lessons Carter was taught today.

Looking over my shoulder at my future husband, I smile. “You really are my knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about that, honey, but I’ll sure as hell always be there to save the day.”

Two taps to Greyson’s forearms have him releasing me and I circle back to stand before the beaten, broken, worthless man who used to make me feel that way every day.

“Look at her,” Greyson orders. When he doesn’t lift his head, Greyson yanks his head up by the hair and shouts in his ear.

“Look. At. Her!”

Carter’s dead eyes meet mine and a slither of disgust roils through me but not fear.

“I’ve thought about everything I want to say to you a million times. Now that I have the chance, you’re not worth the oxygen it’d take for me to speak so long. You’re not worth a minute more of my time.”

I glance at Greyson, radiating with pride for me, and I know I can do this.

“You were wrong about me. I deserve love. I deserve happiness. You don’t. I have a family now that would go to the ends of the earth for me and my daughter. MY DAUGHTER, not yours. You and your disgusting family can go to hell. And when you get there, I hope you get sent somewhere even worse where monsters like you can suffer for eternity.”

On that macabre ending note, I beam up at Greyson and chipper as can be, say, “I’m done. Can we sign the papers now? I bet you’re hungry and I saved you a plate of pot roast.”

“Sure thing, honey. Got everything ready right here.” Greyson wipes his hands on his jeans and grabs a legal folder flagged where signatures are required.

After releasing Carter’s hands from behind his back, Greyson calmly, and transparently, explains what each document means and guides Carter’s left, un-broken hand to each line where a barely legible signature is inked.

By the end, Carter and I will be divorced, he’ll relinquish full parental rights of Everly, and on top of the 50 percent of marital assets I’m entitled to, he’ll be giving me a hefty settlement.

Greyson calls James in to double check the paperwork, exchanging words about finalizing things expeditiously and confirming that Greyson’s called in the appropriate favors through his Batman-channels to do so.

The guys managed to get Carter’s car here from the law firm and have it ready to go.

Greyson crouches to cut the bindings that’ve been holding Carter upright to the chair, his mangled body flopping onto the floor. In his broken state, it takes him a minute to get to his feet.

The men surround Carter as he limps to his car, but before he can open his door, Greyson pins him against it full force, a pathetic whimper coming out of big bad Carter.

“Now Carter, sweetheart, you’re gonna get back in this tiny-dick mid-life crisis car of yours and get those stumps on your hand patched up. I’m thinking the hospital down in Denver will be just fine, you shouldn’t bleed out by then. You’re gonna tell them you got into a little accident. I don’t give a shit what you say. Table saw. A bear. A ghost. Mia and Everly don’t exist to you. You don’t know me. You’ve never even heard of Swiftwater. Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. My. Girls.” Greyson’s never been so terrifying, or so sexy.

We back away from the vehicle and let Carter struggle his way into his ridiculous “sports” car. He spins out on the ice and speeds away like the coward he is.

“Take me home, Mr. Clark.” I lean into Greyson, exhausted from the anxiety and pure terror of the day.

“Anything for you, future Mrs. Clark.”

37

“What’s the matter, honey?” Greyson asks, rubbing my tight shoulders in the steam-filled bathroom of our apartment. “Tonight gettin’ to you?”

“No. Well, yes. But not in the way you might think.” Mia’s bottom lip’s taken a real beating being chewed so relentlessly.

I take my time massaging knots of tension from her neck, shoulders and back.

“Talk to me. You can tell me anything.”

It takes her a minute, but she opens up to me.

“When Carter balked about the settlement amount, you told him to think of it as incentive for you not outing him to his colleagues and ruining his ‘pristine’ reputation. It surprised me you’d be concerned about his reputation, is all,” she says, looking pointedly away from the mirror to avoid my reflection looking back at her.