A tinny-sounding “mooo-mooo-mooo” caught his attention. A little girl was pushing buttons on a white plastic gameboard that lay at Aric’s feet. When she pressed a green button a loud “meow” sounded.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Aric jumped up and grabbed the game, trying to pull it away.

“Mine!” The girl wrenched the plastic board free. Freeing one hand, she shoved Aric back. “Bad boy.”

Moving that direction, Hawk snorted. Fair enough.

Face red with fury, Aric swept the closest books off the bookcase, then started throwing the rest. Everywhere.

Shit.

A book hit the girl. She dropped the toy and screamed in pain.

The high, pain-filled sound hit Hawk like an IED, blinding him with memories. His father’s shouting, “You fucking stupid brat,” and flinging the screwdriver at him. The pain as it ripped across his forehead. Screaming, curling on the floor, holding his forehead. Father kicking him out of the way. “Dumb fuck.” Blood everywhere.

Hawk tasted blood. Pain told him he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. He shook his head hard and pulled in a breath, trying to escape the flashback.

Not. Now.

In the corner, Aric lifted a heavy book over his head to throw it…at the girl.

“Stop!” Hawk’s voice came out an angry roar.

Aric froze.

Taking the boy by his arms, Hawk picked him up, strode to the other corner, and set him down. “You—”

His voice strangled and died. He not only sounded like his father but was looming over the kid. Jesus, no.

Aric crumpled into a scared ball on the floor.

Hawk’s mouth went dry. The harsh sound of his own voice still rang in his ears, and his heart pounded faster than in a damned artillery barrage. What the hell was wrong with him?

He knew the answer. He was a monster.

Get a grip, asshole. Pulling in a breath, he went down on his haunches beside the boy that, face it, he loved with all his wretched heart. A child he shouldn’t be allowed near. “Aric.”

Aric kept crying.

“Hey…” Hawk reached out carefully.

The boy didn’t move.

“Kid, I’m sorry I yelled.” Hawk cringed inside. He was just as bad as his father, terrifying a child. There were no words to erase that fact.

He could only wait, silently, until the tears slowed.

Across the room, Erica held the little girl who was now calm. There was no blood. She’d be okay.

Aric sat up.

Slowly, carefully, Hawk pulled out his bandanna and used it to wipe away the snot and tears.

The boy didn’t cower from him—such a brave kid.

Hawk pulled in another breath against the pain under his ribs. “Let’s get you home.”

The trip home had been silent. Hawk turned off the pickup, released Aric from the car seat in back, then lifted him and set him on his feet.