Chapter 159
Summer's POV
"You'll what?" Drake's smile came back, sharper now. Meaner. "Hit me? In front of all these witnesses? In front of your girlfriend?" He leaned closer, voice dropping. "Go ahead. Show her what you really are. Show her the Cross family temper."
Kieran's whole body was trembling. I could see it from where I stood, could feel the violence coiling in him like a spring wound too tight.
"That's what I thought," Drake said quietly. "You're just like me, boy. You just haven't admitted it yet."
"No." Kieran's voice was barely a whisper. "I'm nothing like you."
"Sure you're not." Drake's eyes flicked to me again, and I saw calculation there. Cold and cruel. "Tell me something, Summer. How much money does your family have?"
The question was so unexpected I just stared at him.
"Come on," Drake pressed. "Judging by that jacket, that bag, that fancy school he goes to—you're loaded, right? Old Boston money?"
"That's none of your—"
"Because here's the thing." Drake's smile was back, wider than ever. "My son here, he's smart. Real smart. But he's also desperate. Desperate enough to do just about anything to keep his little family afloat. Desperate enough to use what he's got."
"Stop talking." Kieran's voice was shaking now, but not with fear. With rage.
Drake ignored him, still looking at me. "So I'm wondering—did he tell you about his hand? About how it happened? Or did he give you some sob story about an accident?"
My throat was so tight I could barely breathe. "He told me."
"Did he?" Drake's eyebrows rose. "Did he tell you he came at me first? That he threw the first punch?"
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Drake tilted his head. "Ask him. Go ahead. Ask him what really happened that night."
I looked at Kieran. His face was white, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jumping. But he didn't deny it.
"See?" Drake said softly. "Not so innocent, is he? Not so different from his old man after all."
"You were beating his mother," I said, and my voice came out stronger than I felt. "He was protecting her. That's not the same thing."
Drake's smile faded. "You weren't there."
"I don't need to be." I took a step forward, and behind me I heard Mia make a small sound of alarm. "I know him. And I know he's nothing like you."
"Is that right?" Drake's voice went flat. Cold. "You know him? You've known him what—a few months? I've known him his whole life. I know what he's capable of. I know what runs in his blood."
"Blood doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?" Drake's eyes narrowed. "Then why is he standing there right now, shaking with rage? Why is he about to hit me? Because make no mistake, sweetheart—he wants to. Real bad."
He was right. I could see it in Kieran's face, in the way his whole body was coiled tight, ready to spring.
"The only difference between me and him," Drake continued, "is that I'm honest about what I am. He's still pretending."
"Stop." Kieran's voice broke. "Just stop."
"Or what?" Drake leaned in closer. "You gonna make me? In front of your rich girlfriend? In front of all these people?" He gestured to the growing crowd of onlookers. "Go ahead. Show them all what a Cross man looks like when he loses his temper."
The silence stretched out. Kieran was breathing hard, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
Then Drake's expression changed. Softened into something that looked almost sad.
"Look," he said, his voice dropping. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to see my kids. Want to be part of their lives again. Is that so wrong?"
"Yes." Kieran's voice was flat. Dead. "It is."
"Even if I've changed? Even if I'm sober now?"
"You're not sober. I can smell it on you."
Drake's jaw tightened. For a second, the mask slipped, and I saw something vicious flash across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by that sad, reasonable expression.
"Fine," he said. "Maybe I had a beer. Maybe two. But that doesn't mean—"
"Get away from them." Kieran's voice was so cold it made me shiver. "Now."
Drake studied him for a long moment. Then his gaze slid back to me, and his smile returned.
"You know what?" he said conversationally. "I like you, Summer. You've got spirit. And clearly you care about my boy here." He paused. "So let me make you an offer."
"Don't," Kieran said sharply. "Don't you fucking dare—"
"One hundred thousand dollars," Drake said, looking straight at me. "You give me one hundred thousand dollars, and I'll hand him over to you. How's that sound?"
The world tilted.
"You could be my daughter-in-law," Drake continued, taking another step closer. His voice was almost tender now. Almost loving. "Wouldn't that be nice? We could all be one big happy family."
He was close enough now that I could see the broken blood vessels in his eyes, could smell the whiskey on his breath mixing with cheap cologne.
"What do you say, sweetheart? Want to buy yourself a husband?"