Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“He doesn’t know you’re a scrapper. I almost wish I’d let you hit him, but I figured you’d regret it later.”
“Maybe,” I said, not sure if I would have regretted it. He certainly deserved it.
“He probably would have had you charged with assault. And with that many witnesses, West would have had to arrest you,” Ford said, making me laugh.
“West wouldn’t need the crowd of witnesses,” I said, shoulders shaking with amusement at the idea of West having to arrest me. “You and I both know he never lets anything slide.”
“True,” Ford agreed, with a dry laugh. It had been a while since I’d heard my older brother laugh. When he finally did, I wouldn’t have thought it would be over a bad joke about West throwing me in jail. All of us, including West, had known Ford was innocent of our father’s murder, but the evidence had pointed to Ford, and West had done his job. By the books, as always.
“Thanks for keeping me out of jail,” I said, shoving my hands back in my pockets. I stopped at the far corner of the barn, the dark, cold air a buffer from the crowd gathered by the front of the barn.
“I don’t know what Holt was saying, but you looked like you were about to explode.”
“I was,” I agreed. “I don’t know why I let him get under my skin like that.”
“He’s an asshole,” Ford said. “You were smart to fire him, and your beer is fucking awesome.”
I let out a gust of a sigh, feeling the same twist of joy and despair I did every time I’d heard that tonight. “I just wish…”
Ford shook his head, the movement barely perceptible in the dark. “Don’t, Ave. You made it once. You’ll either make it again, or you’ll make something better. I know you. You won’t give up until you kick ass. You never do.”
A group came around the corner of the barn, talking and laughing. Ford and I inched back toward the far corner, deeper into the dark.
“I just need a minute to get my shit back together,” I said. “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself.”
“That’s what he wanted you to do,” Ford said. “While he was baiting you, I could see him looking around. He knew people were watching. He wanted you to react. Now he’s thrown out on his ass, and you can enjoy the rest of the night.”
I should have caught that, but I was glad I’d managed to keep my shit together.
“So,” I prodded, “who forced you to come tonight?”
Something moved in the dark on my left, and I turned, my feet going out from under me abruptly, something heavy hitting my back, shoving me forward into the rough barn wall. Fire slashed along my collarbone and down my arm.
Someone screamed. Me? I tried to get my feet under me. They tangled, and I pitched forward, smacking my head into the side of the barn before I twisted and landed on a body. A groan told me it was Ford. Why was Ford on the ground?
I couldn’t get my bearings. There was a scuffle of footsteps. The shadows had seemed safe before, a cocoon away from the crowd, but now they were impenetrable. And they held danger. I could barely see Ford’s face, his grey shirt and jeans all but invisible against the dark ground.
I felt movement on my left, cold air stirring against my cheek, the whites of someone’s eyes, and the grind of a shoe on gravel. Metal flashed, a blade catching the light from the bonfire so far away. It came down, aiming for Ford or me, I couldn’t tell. I never found out. Pinned half beneath me, Ford wrapped his arms around my torso and rolled, shielding me as the dark figure lunged in, the blade scraping the dirt where we’d been a second before.
We knocked into our assailant’s legs, sending the murky figure sprawling in the shadows, the blade in his hand flashing in the firelight.
There was a laugh and a shout, the noise terribly incongruous. A group of kids raced by in the dark, screaming, throwing something at each other as they ran. When they’d passed, he was gone, melting into the dark beyond the barn.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Say something.” I slid to the side, getting off Ford, shoving his arms away.
“I’m okay,” he said, his voice low and tight.
I didn’t believe he was okay. I wasn’t sure I was either. My collarbone and arm burned. My fingertips came away sticky and wet. Blood. I could tell it wasn’t very deep, a scrape more than a stab. Fuck. It had happened so fast. It didn’t hurt yet, but I knew it would.
“Can you stand?” Ford asked.
“Yeah,” I said, not sure if I could. I managed to get to my knees and immediately knew they wouldn’t hold me up. Not yet. I was a wobbly mess. I rocked back on my butt and leaned against the side of the barn, the rough wood cold. “I just… I just need a second. I’m okay.”