In Self Defence. Debra Webb

the first time Colt had known him to come home drunk. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the shiny red truck parked behind him. The boy had been driving while intoxicated. Colt had witnessed it with his own eyes. All the other dumb stuff he overlooked was nothing to compare with this. Driving under the influence was not something he could pretend not to notice in order to keep the peace.

      “Damn it all to hell.”

      Colt emerged from his truck, slammed the door and headed for the house he’d inherited from his daddy—the one thing Colt hadn’t lost in the divorce. By the time he reached Key’s bedroom, his son was lying on the floor where he’d fallen and was snoring up a storm. Shaking his head, Colt closed and locked the window. He picked up the fob to the boy’s truck and tucked it into his pocket. No more driving for at least a month. Waking up his son and giving him what for at the moment would be a pointless waste of energy. Arguing with a drunk got both parties nowhere fast.

      Morning would be soon enough to tackle this unpleasant task. He considered helping his son into the bed but decided he should sleep it off right where he’d fallen. His cell phone had tumbled from his pocket and lay next to him. Colt made another decision. The kid didn’t need his phone for a while, either. A set of wheels and a cell phone were luxuries that not all kids his son’s age enjoyed. Why should Key have access to those and more when he couldn’t obey the rules?

      Disgusted and exhausted, Colt wandered to his bedroom. He placed his hat on the bureau. He needed a shower and a beer. He thought of his son passed out on the floor in the other bedroom. Maybe he’d forgo the beer. He dropped onto the side of the bed and pulled off first one boot and then the other, tossing the well-worn footwear to the floor. Socks went next. He’d worn cowboy boots his whole life. His daddy bought him his first pair as soon as he could walk. If his dad were still here he would know what to do to steer Key in the right direction.

      Sometimes Colt wondered if his ex-wife allowed the boy to run wild just to get back at Colt for the divorce. God knew Colt had never been allowed to behave this way, and he damned sure hadn’t intended for his son to end up on this plunge into stupidity. But Karen let the boy do anything he wanted. She’d named him after her daddy, Keyton. Colt had been good with that, since his son would carry the Tanner surname. He’d wanted to be fair. But Karen Wilhelm had never played fair in her life. Key hadn’t been a year old the first time Colt caught her cheating. He’d put up with her lies for ten years in an attempt to hold his family together. Then he’d had enough.

      He peeled off his shirt and reached for his belt. Key’s cell phone blasting a rap tune stopped him. Mom appeared on the screen. Colt tapped the screen and answered with the same “yo” his son always used.

      “Baby, I just wanted to make sure you got home all right. You were a little drunk.”

      Outrage coursed through Colt’s veins. “You allowed our son to drive when he’d been drinking?”

      Silence screamed across the line.

      “Why do you have Key’s phone?”

      The cold fury in her voice was nothing compared to the white-hot rage gushing through Colt at the moment. “Because he dropped it while he was climbing through his bedroom window. At the moment he’s passed out on the floor.”

      “I’m... I’m sure he wasn’t drinking that much when he left here. He must have stopped at a friend’s on the way home.”

      Liar.

      “He won’t be driving for a good long while. And he won’t be available by cell, either.”

      “My father gave him that truck. You don’t have any right to take it.”

      “You would rather I arrest him for driving under the influence? I can definitely do that, and I don’t need your or your daddy’s permission to do it.”

      “You wouldn’t dare.”

      He laughed. “I arrested you, didn’t I?”

      Of course, her rich daddy had hired the best lawyer in the county to take care of the situation. So far, he’d managed that feat five times. No wonder their son felt no fear of consequences. He’d watched his mother skate out of trouble his whole life. Including ten years of Colt looking the other way while she screwed her way through the county’s male population.

      “My father will be calling you in the morning.”

      The call ended.

      Colt turned the phone off and shoved it into the pillowcase of the pillow he didn’t use. His boy would never think to look there. God knew his momma wasn’t coming anywhere near Colt’s bed.

      He shucked his jeans and boxers and headed for the shower. While he waited for the water to warm he thought of the biggest mistake of his life.

      Hurting Rey.

      Each time he saw her he was reminded of the enormous mistake he’d made. How the hell had he let her get away? He almost laughed at the idea. He hadn’t let her do anything. Audrey Rose Anderson did what she damned well pleased, then and now.

      She had been his everything since he was a kid. If he was honest with himself, he had been fascinated with her since the first day of kindergarten when she kicked the boy who laughed at him for crying. Cutting the other kid some slack, he had no idea Colt’s mother had been dying with cancer. No matter that she’d been so sick, she’d wanted to take her little boy to his first day of school. When she’d left him in the classroom the tears had streamed down his face. Colt had been terrified she would die before he was back at home with her.

      After kicking the laughing kid in the shin, Audrey had walked up to Colt and said, “I like your boots. You want to sit at my table?”

      They had been friends from that day on. And then he’d fallen in love with her. Head over heels in love. Even now, thinking of her made it hard to breathe.

      “You screwed that up, dumbass.”

      Colt stepped into the shower and drowned the memories beneath the spray of hot water.

      There were some transgressions for which there was no forgiveness. Rey reminded him every chance she got.