Page 122 of Thug

“Yeah. Do the bad, then the good.”

He took another drink. “Okay.”

He set the cup to the side. “My temper’s worse right now than it’s been in ages.”

I thought it was better. I gave him a surprised look. “Why?”

“Brisco, I think.”

“What did he do now?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. I just. I’m still angry as fuck about everything he did to you. I need to forgive him. Forgiving him means telling him about the fucking hostages. That means they go back. I don’t want them to go back.”

I didn’t either. Keeping Price’s temper at bay was more important that anything, though. “It’s okay,” I said. “We can give them back.”

I no more than spoke, and I felt a paw against my thigh. I looked down. Frick, my nickname for the bigger of the two, was begging for table scraps.

I held out my empty hands. “I don’t have anything.”

He meandered to Price, stretched, and then tapped his paw on Price’s leg.

“Just a minute,” Price said.

He grabbed the bag of treats and gave the cat two of them.

I nodded toward the cat. “I thought we decided no treats after eight o’ clock?”

“That’s more of a tease than a treat.”

The cats had been favoring him, and now I knew why. I shot him a glare. “No treats means no treats.”

Price tossed the bag onto the table. He showed the cat his empty hands. “Sorry, Bud.”

Satisfied, the cat meandered to the couch, hopped onto it, and began circling the cushion. I hated the thought of giving them back to Brisco, but we’d punished him enough.

“I’m okay with it, really,” I said. “If not forgiving him has you on edge, you need to get it over with.”

“I beat a guy damned near to death yesterday,” he said. “Can’t stop thinking about it. Last place I need to be is in jail.”

“You did what?” I gasped.

“Fucking pervert,” he said. “Had a computer filled with pictures and videos of kids. He got what he deserved. I just went a little overboard.”

I sighed. “I’m not even going to ask.”

He reached for his cup. “Probably best if you don’t.”

“So, that’s the bad? Giving back the hostages after you forgive Brisco?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the good?”

He sipped his coffee. After finishing it, he poured another cup. On his way back to the table, he began.

“One thing you’ve made clear is that your father’s absence caused you to resent him. You didn’t know if he was coming home or not, and the not knowing caused you and your mother grief.” He sat down, and then met my gaze. “I can assure you of this. Unless I’m out of town, at some point in time I always come home.”

I had no idea what point he was trying to make. “Okay.”