More of Gabriel’s weight presses into my right side, like he’s looking over his shoulder. I take the opportunity and try to grab the pencil. I skim the end with my fingertips, but it’s just out of my reach.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Gabriel’s rage is a roar and a red shroud that blankets me.
He yanks my head back, and in that moment, I realize if I don’t do somethingnow, this may end very badly for me. And I can’t let that happen. I won’t let this man take anything else away from me. Calm washes over me as I reach behind, grabbing hold of Gabriel’s hair. At the same time, I pull his head forward and snap mine back, head-butting him. The muscles in my neck strain with the movement, but it has the desired effect. Gabriel’s hold on my hair loosens, and he rears back, giving me enough room to maneuver.
I elbow him in the side and try to get out from under him, but he manages to grab my arm. I drop my shoulder and jam it into his diaphragm, and on the way up I twist my way out of his grasp. I try to sprint for the door, but he manages to grab me by the hair again, and I go down, landing in the middle of the champagne and shards of glass. My face hits the floor, and my teeth cut intomy lip.
I taste copper as sharp pain radiates up my arm, but at least I’m not the only one lying in a pool of champagne and glass. I slam an elbow into Gabriel’s neck. He splutters, choking on a curse, and it gives me enough time to get to my feet and out from behind the counter.
I run for the door, the floor slippery under my feet. I grab the gas can, adrenaline the only thing keeping me going. Gabriel is right on my heels, so I do what I must to stop him. I swing the can around, slamming it into his knee.
The horrible crunching sound is accompanied by Gabriel’s roar of pain. He lands on the floor and clutches his leg.
Just then I hear my name being called from outside.
Maverick.
39
DOWN THE HOLE
Maverick
When I push open the door, it bumps into something, and I quickly realize that something is a someone, and that someone is Clover. Less than ten feet away from her is Gabriel, lying on his side on the floor, clutching his knee. A gas can—the metal kind, not the plastic ones you’d use to fill a riding lawn mower—sits on the floor next to her.
It doesn’t take long for me to process the scene. But the thing that sends me into full-blown panic is the blood. Clover’s lip is bleeding, and the sleeve of her pale green cardigan is tinted dark red.
“The fuck?” I drop to my knees, angling my body so I can still see Gabriel, but my focus is on Clover. “What do I do? What can I do?”
Her eyes—wide with mirroring panic—lock on mine. “I’m okay. Outside. Let’s get outside.” She grabs my shoulders.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” she assures me. “Grab the gas can.”
I help her to her feet and do as she asks, ushering her outside. The sun has nearly set, so I flick on the porch lights, illuminating the space where BJ and Kody are standing.
“What the hell is going on? Are you okay?” Kody’s gaze darts from Clover to me to Gabriel, who is still on the floor, but working to pick himself up.
I point a finger at him. “Stay the fuck down unless you want a whole pile of broken bones.”
I turn my attention back to Clover. She’s shaking, adrenaline probably coursing through her veins. When she crashes, it’s going to be rough. She has a bruise on her cheek that’s quickly turning dark purple, and there’s a thin trail of blood making its way down her chin. I don’t have anything to wipe it away with, and the sight of it takes me back to the night Lavender got locked in the closet. I try to push those memories down, though, and stay in the present, where I’m needed.
I take her face between my palms. “Sweetheart, can you tell me what happened?”
“He must have followed me here. He said he was going to torch the place. He came at me, and I dropped a bottle of champagne and fell in the glass. It’s all surface wounds. We need to call the police.”
“I already called 911. They’re on the way.” BJ holds up his phone. “Ambulance included.”
“You should sit down,” I tell her.
She nods, and I guide her to one of the chairs. When she’s sitting, I use the hem of my shirt to wipe the blood from her chin and inspect the wound. It doesn’t look serious enough to need stitches.
At the sound of a grunt, I turn to find Gabriel gripping the doorjamb, trying to stay upright.
I move around BJ and Kody, who have formed a barricade between us and him. I grab him by his shirt and slam him against the wood siding. And in that moment, I understand exactly what murderous rage feels like—how a person can be so blind with hatred that they could take a life. “I’ll fucking end you, you son of a bitch.” I slam my fist into his face, once, twice, a third time. Blood gushes from his nose, and his lip splits.
The memories I’ve been fighting come to the surface.
