Free Bad Games 2 - Vengeful Games by Jeff Menapace Page A

stabbing a man over and over in hopes of reducing him to shreds of tissue and bone (and that, God damn it, was exactly what he’d been thinking at the time). Nor was it biting the nose off another man before repeatedly shooting him in the face until the chamber clicked empty and the man was deader than dead. Not the painful, physical rehabilitation in the hospital, or worse still, the mental rehabilitation once they returned home.
    It was the hope Patrick remembered. He remembered—as clear as he remembered this morning—the hope he had for his family before their weekend trip to the lake months ago. He’d hoped the weather would be nice. Hoped his wife would transcend relaxation during the time away. Hoped his kids would never want to leave. Hoped it would be the perfect weekend with a family he loved more than he ever imagined possible. He hoped it would be a memory they would never forget …
    Oh, Mr. Irony , he thought, you can be so fucking cruel sometimes.
    “You’re quiet.” Amy said.
    Patrick took his eyes off the road for a second and smiled at her. “I’m good. Just thinking.”
    “About what?”
    He knew she knew. But he deflected anyway. And when she didn’t push, he loved her even more.
    “Wondering if you’re prepared to play goalie once your dad starts shooting drinks my way,” he said.
    Amy laughed. “I could be Ron Hextall and my dad would still get a few past me.”
    Patrick threw her a curious glance. “How do you know who Ron Hextall is?”
    “An ex. He was a big hockey nut. Almost as much as my dad. He even tried out for the Hershey Bears.”
    Patrick grunted.
    “Didn’t make it though,” she said.
    “Couldn’t cut it, huh?” Patrick said with some satisfaction.
    Amy flashed a cheeky smirk. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that—he was an amazing athlete … rugged … hot.” Her smirk spread to a grin. “Mmmm, I haven’t thought about him in awhile—”
    Patrick grabbed her knee and she screamed.
    Both kids leaned forward in their child seats. Carrie asked: “What?”
    “Nothing,” Patrick said. “Mommy’s just trying to make Daddy jealous.”
    “Mommy did make Daddy jealous,” Amy said.
    “ Anyway … ” Patrick said, getting back on track, “I hope you’re prepared to play some solid defense for me this evening.”
    “Oh stop. You know my dad’s idea of male bonding is booze.”
    “And that’s fine, I’ll watch him drink all night. Doesn’t mean I have to match him drink for drink though.”
    Amy’s grin returned. “Oh yes it does. And God help you if there’s a Bears game on tonight.”
    “You just want me hung over in the morning so you can make my life miserable.”
    “Correct.”
    Patrick went to grab her knee again. She saw it coming and dodged. “Too slow.”
    Patrick placed his hand back on the wheel. “Fine—then you’re driving home tomorrow while I sleep.”
    She shrugged cheerfully. “Okay.”
    “You suck. Don’t expect any later tonight if your dad gets me loaded.”
    Amy glanced in the back seat. Both kids were oblivious to their father’s implication. She faced front again. “Fine by me.” She then whispered: “ It’s creepy doing it at my parents’ anyway. ”
    “So what did you do in high school?”
    “Oh, so now you want to talk about my exes?” She sighed and gazed dreamily towards the roof. “Let’s see … who to think about first?”
    This time her knee had nowhere to hide.
     

Chapter 16
    Harrisburg, Pennsylvania

    Bob and Audrey Corcoran had company from out of town. The Toyota Highlander parked in their driveway told you that. In this neighborhood, the SUV was an exchange student in a proud classroom of names like Ford, Chevy, and Dodge.
    Patrick’s decision in choosing the Highlander had little to do with a lack of appreciation for American craftsmanship and more to do with providing conveniences for his family. The Highlander ticked three out of four on that ballot—tons of space, a smooth ride, safe (as far as SUVs