REprisal - Kathy Coopmans Page 0,12
me.”
I’m angry now. I have every right to be; this could and most likely will backfire right in my face if I don’t get control of my feelings. It’s hard to just sit here and look into the eyes of the man who killed my husband and not feel the hatred for him that I do.
“You want me to say it? Fine, I’ll say it. She wants you dead, and she wants me to be the one to pull the motherfucking trigger.”
“She hates me and wants you to be the one to kill me? Oh hell, this just keeps getting better and better.”
My mood becomes darker. I need answers, and if he is sitting here talking, I may as well see if I can get them. I have no idea when she plans on trying to take my daughter. The way I see it, I don’t have time to waste anymore. I need to push Trent for all I can get out of him. It seems she has him on a string like a fucking puppet. Well, I need him a hell of a lot more than she does. Her damn string is about to be cut.
“Are you going to do it?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’ll do anything she asks you to do, whether you really want to do it or not.”
His hand slithers across the table and he entwines our fingers. My stomach coils. What in the actual fuck does he think he is doing?
I stare at him in disbelief, then look over to Journey. My heart shatters for her. If something happens to me, this little girl has to grow up without ever knowing either one of her parents. The thought of that alone brings me back to look at Trent.
“You’re wrong. I don’t want to, and I won’t kill you.”
“Well, this is a definite surprise,” I say a little sarcastically.
His brows lift and his body jerks back in the chair as if I have actually shocked him. Asshole!
“You really do hate me, don’t you?”
“No, Trent,” I say, leaning forward. “I don’t hate you. I pity you.”
I retract my hand from his grip.
“I don’t know what that bitch has on you, or why you run around with your dick shoved up your ass when it comes to her, and frankly I really don’t care. What I do care about is the safety of my daughter. Your niece,” I remind him, even though it won’t do me any good. This fucker shot and killed his own brother. He doesn’t give a shit about Journey.
“She has nothing on me,” he practically shouts as he stands up. There’s the Trent I really do fucking hate. The one with the temper, the one who beat me, raped me, and stole my life away.
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”
I want to scream at him. Goad him, get him riled up. Make him angry at her. He needs to see how much of a selfish whore she really is.
“I can’t believe she left here without turning her fucking spy cameras back on. She doesn’t trust either one of us at all. She’s a smart one, my lovely mother.”
He looks at me strangely as he stiffens and takes a deep breath.
“The thing about the cameras is, they were never for her. They were for me.”
What the hell? I’m in a mild state of shock. He’s been watching me? Good God, this man is more unhinged than I thought. He gives a new meaning to assholeitis. And he’s wasting no time shoving more information my way. My head is spinning round and round, trying to swallow all of this new evidence. I feel like that chick from The Exorcist, except I’m not the one with the devil living inside of me. My mother and Trent are.
“Why would you do that? As you can tell, I have nowhere to go.”
I am seething mad. All I see sitting in front of me is the worst form of egotistical, sick, unstable person. Both he and my mother need to be locked away, confined in a room with nothing but white padded walls to bounce their fucked up heads off of. Or better yet, live the rest of their lives behind bars, tortured, as they both become someone’s personal bitch in prison. This shit is way past living in the Twilight Zone, it’s more like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest . . . except there are two of them flying over it.
I continue to gape openly at