His coach, Eddie Vaughn, was beside him.

Bald.

Thick neck.

Tattoos climbing toward his jaw.

Dustin saw me.

His smile widened.

“Well, well.”

The others turned.

“Daddy came to visit.”

I stopped ten feet away.

“You put your hands on my daughter.”

His expression did not change.

“Your daughter falls a lot.”

A few men laughed.

I said nothing.

Dustin walked closer.

“She didn’t believe an old man could protect her.”

My pulse slowed.

“So I had to teach her respect.”

Everything in me wanted one step forward.

One.

That was all it would have taken.

Then I heard my own voice from twenty years earlier.

Control first.

Always.

I kept my hands open.

“Say that again.”

He grinned.

“I taught your daughter respect.”

Eddie Vaughn stepped between us.

He looked at my gray beard.

My carpenter’s shirt.

The extra twenty pounds I had accumulated after retirement.

“What are you going to do, Grandpa?”

I looked at him.

“Nothing unless somebody makes a very poor decision.”

He laughed.

Three men spread outward.

Not subtle.

Dustin smiled.

“You should leave.”

“I will.”

I looked directly at him.

“But you’re going to stay away from Marcy.”

“Or what?”

“Or the next conversation happens through attorneys and law enforcement.”

That made all of them laugh.

Eddie stepped close enough that I could smell chewing tobacco.

“You hear that? He thinks the cops are coming.”

Dustin smiled.

“They won’t.”

There.

The confidence.

That was what bothered me.

Not bravado.

Certainty.

Then Eddie shoved me.

Hard.

I stepped backward.

My hands remained down.

“Don’t.”

The room grew quieter.

He shoved me again.

“You going to cry?”

“No.”

Dustin laughed.

“Dad said you were some Marine badass.”

I looked at him.

“Fifteen years teaching hand-to-hand combat.”

The laughter weakened.

Dustin glanced at Eddie.

I continued.

“Force Recon. Raiders. Infantry units. More Marines than I can remember.”

I rolled my shoulders.

“You still want me to leave?”

Eddie grinned.

“You're going to need more than stories.”

Three men moved.

I sighed.

“You’re going to need more than three guys.”

They laughed.

They shouldn’t have.

Not because I beat them half to death.

I didn’t.

Because the first man grabbed my shirt.

The second swung.

And twelve seconds later, all three had discovered something I spent fifteen years teaching Marines.

Real control looks boring.

One man hit the mat.

Another found himself against a wall with his arm immobilized.

The third stopped moving toward me when he realized I was looking directly at him.

Nobody was seriously injured.

Eddie froze.

Dustin stopped smiling.

And then a voice came from the gym entrance.

“Everybody stay exactly where you are.”

Detective Marcus Hale walked through the door with four officers behind him.

Dustin stared.

I did too.

Marcus was a retired Marine gunnery sergeant.

Twenty years earlier, he had been one of my students.

Now he was a detective with the county sheriff’s organized-crime unit.

He looked at me.

“Gunny Mercer.”

I released Eddie.

“Detective.”

He sighed.

“I told Laura to keep you at the hospital.”

That was when I realized.

My wife had called him.

Dustin’s face changed.

Then Eddie whispered something I barely heard.

“Victor’s going to kill us.”

Chapter 2 - The Gym Had Cameras

I reached the hospital twenty-six minutes later.

Marcy refused to look at me.

That hurt more than anything in the gym.

“You went there?”

I sat beside her.

“Yes.”

“I begged you not to.”

“I know.”

“Dustin will retaliate.”

“He may try.”

She started crying.

“You don’t understand these people.”

I took the hit.

She was right to be angry.

“I should have come here first.”

Her expression changed slightly.

“I was angry.”

“You’re always telling me anger isn’t an excuse.”

“I am.”

“So?”

“So I was wrong.”

Silence.

Laura stood near the window.

She gave me the smallest nod.

Not forgiveness.

Approval that I had at least admitted it.

Marcy looked toward my knuckles.

No blood.

No swelling.

“Did you hurt him?”

“No.”

“Dad.”

“I didn’t touch Dustin.”

“What happened?”

“His friends made bad choices.”

Despite everything, she almost smiled.

Then winced because of her ribs.

A deputy entered.

Female.

Detective Sara Kim.

She sat instead of standing over Marcy.

That mattered.

“Marcy, nobody is forcing you to make a statement tonight.”

Marcy immediately tensed.

“My boyfriend didn’t do anything.”

Sara nodded.

“Okay.”

“He wasn’t there.”

“Okay.”

“He didn’t hit me.”

“Okay.”

Marcy looked confused.

Sara continued.

“I’m not here to argue with you. I’m here to tell you your options.”

Slowly, Marcy listened.

Photographs could be taken.

Medical documentation preserved.

A protective order considered.

Evidence saved without forcing her to decide everything that evening.

Then Sara mentioned the gym.

Chapter 3

“Your father’s confrontation created something useful.”

I groaned.

“Please don’t encourage me.”