Chapter 9 #2
“I wasn’t planning on it, but—” I shook my head, pulling my hand out of my pocket, clenching my fist and releasing it, trying to force the rage out of my body.
“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.”
“Stay there,” Ford said.
“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice thin and high-pitched, brittle with panic.
“Nowhere. Just sit still.” I heard a rustle and saw the light of his phone as he tapped the screen. The screen flashed, and he said, “Someone just jumped Avery and me. I think they had a knife. She’s hurt. We’re on the north side of the barn. We were trying to get away from the crowd for a minute.”
“I see you,” West said in response. The call went dead. West was there a moment later, crouching in front of me.
“He had a knife?” he asked, scanning the light from his phone over my body.
“Yeah,” Ford said. “Where’d he get her?”
“Collarbone and arm,” West answered, both of them talking as if I weren’t there.
Normally that would irritate the shit out of me, but in that moment, I didn’t want to talk.
I couldn’t get my brain to catch up. Five minutes ago, I’d been furious with Matthew, trying not to make a scene.
And five minutes before that, I’d been reveling in the success of this year’s Halloween party.
Now I was sitting in the dirt, bleeding. Someone attacked us with a knife? Why? It didn’t make any sense .
“He got you, too,” West said, his light on Ford’s grey shirt, stained dark with blood across his chest. “I’m taking you both to the ER.”
“I don’t need—” Ford began. West cut him off.
“Shut it. You’re going. Don’t piss me off.” He looped his arm around my back, pulling me to my feet. My joints felt slippery, like the bones in my legs wouldn’t line up right. I leaned into West, my cheek resting against his chest, the beat of his heart reassuringly solid under my ear.
“Can you walk out of here?” West asked, his breath warm on my cheek. “I can carry you.”
That vision sprang to life in my head—West’s strong arms taking over for my wobbly legs.
West, making all of this go away, bringing me somewhere safe.
I liked that. Then there was the image of him carrying me through the crowd.
After my altercation with Matthew, that was the last thing I needed. Fucking hell. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I can walk,” I forced out, not sure if I was lying.
West took a step. I tried to keep up, but my feet weren’t cooperating, my head still spinning.
Pulling out his phone, he made a call. “Hey,” he said to whoever answered.
“We have a situation. I need a pick-up. Come around the back of the barn using the side access road. You know where it is?” He paused for confirmation. “See you in a minute.”
He looked up, scanning the dark around us. “Jim is on his way.” Sliding his arm down my back, he bent and lifted me in his arms, cradling me against his chest. “We’ll get you out of here the back way. No one will see. Just close your eyes for a minute.”
I thought about arguing or asking questions, but I settled for closing my eyes and letting the dark take me under. I’d worry about everything later. For now, I just wanted the quiet.