Nine-year-olds. I ask you.
“So what do you think?” I tip Harper up a little so it looks like she’s sitting on my arm. She falls back against my chest, limp and snuffling. “Do you approve?”
“I approve. She’s cute.” He pauses. “I won’t have to babysit, right?”
“Not until you’re older.”
His tone drops. “It could be dangerous, leaving us on our own.”
Maybe my tears changed me, but they sure as hell didn’t change the world.
“Perhaps. But I know you’d be fine. Ash, what do we do if anyone ever wants to hurt Harper?”
He drops the teddy bear in a little swish of fur. Brings his hands together, knots his fingers, gives them a predatory stretch. Then he eyes me with fat black pupils, his mouth set into a thin line. “We cut the fuckers.”
We cut. We slash. We put the scar in scarlet.
I’m going to be the best fucking father.
What…like you think I couldn’t be?
THE END
Author's Note
It’s 4:10am here on British time. Since I’ve been up all night thinking about the twists and turns of LEGACY, I figured it would be a great time to write the acknowledgements. So…here goes.
Whether you’re a reader or a blogger, and you supported SOCIOPATH, thank you so very much. I had no idea that little book would garner as much attention as it did. I always knew I’d like to write a second book—indeed, if you got to the end of this one, you’ll have realized why—but I didn’t know if anybody was even going to read the first. Your support has made this one possible, and I hope it answered your questions, along with throwing in a few surprises along the way.
Thank you to Christa for all the editing help—you’re a lifesaver, and a true professional.
To Amber at Book Beautiful, thank you again for the fabulous cover. Aeron wouldn’t be half as hot without you.
To the ladies at Bare Naked Words, you’re all awesome, and your promotional efforts are always appreciated. You put me where I am today.
To Kimberly Brower, my agent, your support is like magic and I feel privileged to have it. Thank you!
To Andy, my very long-suffering partner, thank you for putting up with all the nights when I told you to screw off(!) so I could write. I love you, and I’m sorry. And to Cordelia, my (sometimes) patient and understanding daughter: one day, you’ll be old enough to read Mummy’s “famous” books…but I kind of hope you don’t, given the content. Weep.
Now…on to the next book. And this one’s a banger. Are you ready…?