“What are you doing?” The mic in Waylan’s hand caught her whispered question.
“We need to have a chat,” he murmured.
A muscle ticked in Sandy’s jaw and she shut her eyes for a moment, as if praying or counting for patience. When she opened them again, her gaze found Trey’s. A plea was written clear on her face. But a plea for what? To stay back as she’d always wanted? Or to intervene?
Waylan was starting to tug her off stage.
To hell with it. He wasn’t letting this chance go to waste.
Trey stalked onto the empty dance floor, Waylan in his sights. “Get your hands off her.” His voice rang out clear in the silence, even without a microphone.
Waylan’s eyes went wide with feigned surprise. “What? I’m just having a moment with my wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Sandy ground out.
At her vehemence, Waylan’s expression shifted to true shock. “You wound me, sugar.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Her eyes were spitting fire.
“Let. Her. Go.” Trey enunciated each word with the snap of a punch. Dimly, he sensed others crowding in behind him.
Seeing he was outnumbered, Waylan gave an ingratiating, forgive me smile as he released Sandy. “Aw now, I didn’t mean any harm.”
Trey snapped. He surged forward, grabbing Waylan by his lapels and driving him back. The other man stumbled, tried to bring up his hands in defense, but Trey slammed him into a tree.
“No harm? No harm? You pompous, selfish bastard.” He yanked Waylan forward and slammed him back again, hard enough to crack his head against the wood.
“Trey, stop! He’s not worth it.”
Trey turned his head to meet Sandy’s stricken eyes. “But you are. You always were. And it’s time we ended this.”
Her face paled, but she nodded once. It was all the permission Trey needed. He shifted his attention back to Waylan. “All you have ever done is cause harm to the people you were supposed to love most in the world. That stops today. For the rest of your life, you’re going to stay far, far away from Sandra and the son you never deserved.” He dropped his voice low, leaning in. “And on the off chance that the federal government doesn’t see to that, I swear to you that I will. I’m a well-connected man, Waylan. There is no limit to the extent of my reach. Do we understand each other?”
Waylan stared at him. “Who the fuck are you?”
“The man who loves her the way you never did.” Trey lifted his voice. “Chief!”
Police Chief Ethan Greer strode up, flanked by a man and woman Trey pegged as out-of-towners on the first glance. “We’ll take it from here.”
Waylan tensed, his eyes rolling toward the police. “Take what where?”
Trey released his death grip on Waylan’s lapels and slapped a faux friendly hand on his shoulder. “There are some folks here who’ve come a long way to have a conversation with you.”
The look of greasy panic that slid over Waylan’s face was gratifying.
Trey started to turn away. “Oh, one more thing.”
The other man gave him a wary look. “What?”
Trey clocked him, and nothing had ever felt more satisfying than the sing of impact up his arm and down his back. Something crunched beneath his knuckles.
Waylan hit the ground with a howl, both hands covering his face. Blood dripped between his fingers onto the crisp white of his shirt. “You broke my fucking nose!”
“Be glad that’s all I broke.” He looked toward the feds. “He’s all yours.”
Sandy’s arms were wrapped around her middle, and her cheeks were pale as she watched the officers of Wishful PD close in on her ex-husband. “What’s going on? Why are the police here?”
Trey wanted to take her into his arms, to comfort and shield, but he had no idea how she’d take the news. She hadn’t wanted him to get involved, and he’d ignored that directive. But he moved close enough his voice wouldn’t carry. “To take him in for questioning. He’s made some questionable friends the past few years.”