“You’re a Manning. You’ve got more money than you can spend.”

“I do,” I said. “I’ll spend all of it to see you fail. Like I said. Go back under the rock you crawled out from under because I’m not your sugar daddy.”

“You’re an asshole,” she shouted.

I sighed. “So I’ve been told.”

I hung up. There was nothing new to say, and all talking would do was piss me off further. And her. The way she’d gotten more and more wound up as we spoke definitely meant she was unstable. I wanted her nowhere near me. Nowhere near Claire. I’d get Kale on it once he was off the pain pills, make her go away for good, because if I did it, she’d be buried in the back forty somewhere.

I didn’t hurt women, but Mandy? I’d make an exception because she was using my five-year-old as a pawn.

I thought of Sarah, of what kind of mother she’d be. How sweet she was—except right now with me—and caring. Thoughtful. Kind. Gentle. Hot as fuck. Passionate.

Shit. I thought of her riding my face. The only sweet she’d been then was sweet tasting.

If we hadn’t broken up, she’d have my ring on her finger and a few kids by now. I could imagine her belly round with my child.

My dick hardened at the idea of filling her with my cum and knocking her up. We’d have a little girl that had her fair hair. A few boys, too, to protect her. A brood of them.

But then I wouldn’t have Claire, who was too precious to me to consider what-ifs. She was mine, and I wouldn’t change a thing. But for some reason I’d been given a second chance with Sarah. Sure, it was totally fucked up. She hadn’t approached me because she wanted me back, but because she’d been pissed off.

I huffed out a laugh and turned onto the main road. The Manning boys sure knew how to pick ’em. Kelsey was a red-haired spitfire with a hellish temper. I’d laughed at Sawyer when he told us how she’d kneed him in the balls. I could only imagine how he’d laugh right back after he learned how I’d had to break my headboard to get free of what Sarah had done.

“Chief, we have a 10-16 in progress.” The voice through the radio was the daytime station manager. She’d been at the job for decades, knew the town inside and out. Knew the people in it in more detail than any gossiping busybody.

With one hand on the steering wheel, I ran the other over my face again.

“There a reason you’re telling me specifically about a domestic dispute, Noreen?” She could’ve sent any of the deputies on duty. Unless Bunky was still at the station filling out the police report for the fire, then Graham was most likely free.

“Affirmative, Chief. O’Banyons Auto Shop. Someone was walking by and heard shouting. Figured you might want to check it out.”