Dirty Pucker (Denver Bashers #2)

47. Del

Chapter 47

Del

“ M om, where are you?” I say as I speed ahead on the freeway. My phone is on speaker, propped on my dashboard.

“I just took the exit for Eighth Street,” she says in a shaky voice. “I’m driving in the direction of Frog Hollow Park. Oh god, he’s still trailing me.”

Anger stabs through me. I bite down so hard, my jaw feels like it’s on the verge of shattering.

Blomdahl, who’s sitting next to me in the front passenger seat, taps my arm. I look at him.

“I’ve got the directions pulled up on my phone,” he says in a calm voice. He glances down at the screen. “You’re just a couple miles behind her and then you’ll be there.”

“I’ve got the police on the phone,” Xander says. “I’m giving them directions on how to get to your mom,” he says.

“Thanks.” I let out a breath, suddenly feeling like a dipshit. Why didn’t I think to call the police as soon as she called me?

“I-I should have done that right away…I don’t…I don’t know why I didn’t think of it…” I stammer.

I glance up at the rearview mirror and lock eyes with Theo. “Don’t blame yourself,” he says. “This is a high-stress situation and you’re doing your best.”

I nod at him in thanks. I spot the exit and signal before I start to pull off.

“Mom, I’m right behind you. I’m two minutes away, max,” I say.

She lets out a breath. “I just stopped at a red light. Oh no…”

My heart rockets to my throat. “What is it?”

“H-He’s pulling up next to me in traffic.”

Panic punches through my gut. “Can you pull ahead? Can you get away from him?”

“I can’t, honey. There’s a car in front of me and a car behind me. I’m blocked in.”

I stomp on the gas pedal and fly ahead on the darkened road.

“The stoplight’s right up ahead,” Blomdahl says. “Careful, not too fast.”

I focus on the sea of brake lights in front of me.

“I’m right behind you, Mom.” I try to keep my tone calm, but I’m on the verge of shouting. I can’t help it. I’m wild with panic and worry.

Just then I spot a car that’s pulled diagonally into the stopped traffic. The driver’s side door opens and a familiar figure stumbles out.

Anger rockets through my entire body.

That’s him. That’s my dad.

In the distance, sirens blare. Behind me, I hear Xander’s calm tone as he speaks to the 911 operator.

My dad’s looking around while he yells at nothing and no one in particular. He’s wasted, drunk out of his mind.

I look over and spot my mom’s car. He stops when he zeroes in on her car. And then he heads toward her.

“I can see your car, Mom. I’m coming for you right now. Keep the doors locked and stay inside, okay?”

I throw the car in park, jump out, and sprint forward, pumping my arms and legs as hard as I can. I just finished playing my ass off and my entire body is sore. But I ignore the pain. I need to make it to my mom before my dad does.

Blood pumps in my ears as I get closer and closer. My gaze is trained on him. It’s like I have tunnel vision. I don’t see anything or anyone except him.

The second he reaches for the door handle of her car, I collide with him.

He hollers as I land on top of him. I pin him to the concrete. My lungs are on fire as I breathe hard, trying to catch my breath. His eyes are glassy and he reeks of booze.

It takes a second before his gaze focuses. And then he smirks at me.

“You stupid little shit,” he mutters. Then he laughs. “This is it. I warned you. I’ll go to the media, to all the reporters. I’ll tell them everything they wanna know. I’ll sell every story I’ve got about you. You’re fucking done.”

I grit my teeth. I don’t even care anymore. Whatever threat he wants to make good on, he’s welcome to try. All I care about is keeping him away from my mom.

He glares at me. “You were always a mama’s boy.”

My brain flashes back to when I was a little kid and I tried to pull him off my mom when he grabbed her, when he’d shove me off and cuss me out before he’d hit her.

And I’d just sit there, helpless because I was too small and too weak.

Not anymore though.

I lean up on my knees, still on top of him. And then I punch him in the gut as hard as I can.

He screams in agony. I don’t care. He deserves this.

He takes a swing at me, but he’s so drunk and uncoordinated and slow that I have time to lean away. I land a punch to his face. He grunts as the side of his face hits the concrete.

Blood pools at the corner of his mouth. He winces, groaning.

I grab the collar of his shirt and pull his face close to mine. And that’s when I see something I’ve never, ever seen before in my dad’s eyes.

Fear.

He’s scared of me.

We’re the same height now, but he’s older. More frail. I’m bigger and stronger. I could finish him right here, right now. And he knows it.

I look him in the eye. “This ends now. If you come after her again, I’ll kill you. If you try to go after Dakota, I’ll kill you. Stay away from us.”

I drop him onto the concrete and stand up. Behind me, I hear a car door open. I spin around and see my mom, gazing up at me with tears in her eyes.

Something inside of me breaks seeing that terror and agony in her eyes.

I hug her. A second later, Theo, Xander, and Blomdahl jog up to me.

“You okay?” Xander asks.

I nod. Two police cars pull up. Officers hop out and run up to my dad, who’s still writhing on the ground.

And that’s when I finally see what’s happening around me.

Almost every person who’s in their car at this crowded intersection has their phone out, filming this shitshow. They filmed me beating up my dad. They’re filming me comforting my mom now. They’re filming the police too.

The car behind us rolls their window down. A guy sticks his head out. “Hey. Don’t you guys play for the Bashers?”

My teammates turn and look at him.

Blomdahl rubs the back of his neck, frowning. “Uh, yeah.”

The guy smacks his hand against the side of his car door. “Oh damn! I knew that was you guys. Congrats on the win tonight!”

“Uh, thanks,” we all mumble.

Just then my dad, who’s still lying on the ground, starts pointing at me, screaming that I attacked him.

One of the police officers walks up to me. My mom steps out of my hold and looks at me. “He’s lying. That man is my ex-husband and I have a restraining order against him. He was trying to run me off the road.”

The officer looks between all of us, a deep frown etched on his face.

“My son was just trying to protect me,” my mom says.

The officer turns to me. “Did you hit that man and threaten him?” he asks.

I could lie. I could try to explain what happened. But it wouldn’t matter. A dozen people filmed what I did on their phones. It’s going to come out soon enough.

When I glance around, everyone is still filming us.

Footage of me getting arrested, of me beating up my dad, is going to be all over social media and sports news. My standing with the team will be in question. I could lose my career over this.

Dread and worry crash through me. This is so, so bad.

But I can’t escape it. I have to accept what I did.

“Yeah. I did,” I say.

The police officer sighs, pulls his cuffs from his belt, and slaps them on my wrist.