Page 16 of Fletch’s Protection

“You owe me.”

“Whatever you need, just say the word,” I reply.

He glances toward the truck, and the usual mask he wears falls into place, but he stands taller, as if he’s gearing up for battle.

“There’s been a development,” I warn.

He snorts. “Involving a nail gun?”

“This is a helluva lot more complicated.”

His brow lowers and there’s a tic below his right eye. “Let me guess. Women?”

We both stare toward his truck where Mari’s leaning inside the open door, and Cassie’s face is red with anger.

“I’m moving them into the compound. Cabin 1.”

His head whips my way. “Both of them?”

“They’re a package deal. Cassie’s got type 1 diabetes. Mari doesn’t want her to live by herself. But the big issue is that an oil field guy is hassling Mari. I know the type and I don’t like it one fucking bit. He’s been stalking her. Touched her without consent.”

He lets out a rough curse. “Well fuck,” he mutters. “What do you need me to do?”

“We’re going to get their stuff and move them in now.”

“Lead the way,” he calls over his shoulder as he opens the door to his pick-up. Cassie snarls at him, but he snaps the door closed before I can make out what she says.

I motion for Mari. “Let’s get your things.”

“Party’s over,” I growl as I throw a wave toward the gathered crowd.

More phones appear as I start the bike and rev the engine. Mari pins her nose to the back of my cut and I swear, I feel her laughing as she wraps her arms around me.

Four blocks later we pull up to a sagging apartment building. There’s two stories and four apartments. The lawn is bare dirt, paint is peeling, and an old tire is on the front porch.

I hate everything about this place. Ridge climbs out of his truck and gives me a look that matches my own expression.

“Which one is yours?” he asks Mari as her sister slams the passenger side door of his truck.

She stomps past us all, yelling, “This one, idiot.”

I cover my chuckle with a cough. Ridge is loping after her with a string of curses. “You call this a fucking door?” he rages as he kicks the thin wood.

Inside, Cassie’s smarting off to him.

“I’m sorry,” Mari says as she lets me take her hand. “I don’t know what got into her.”

“Ridge has a way of pissing people off. All it takes is a look.”

When she leads me into the apartment, a knife twists in my gut. Mari’s face pinks up, and she clears her throat. “It’s all we could afford while Cassie was still in school.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you packed. Have a suitcase?”

A red suitcase flies out of a closet. A boot follows and barely clears Ridge’s head.

For the next five minutes, Mari carries neatly folded clothing, small personal items, and a collection of paperbacks to the suitcase, where I organize them.

Cassie continues to pitch things out of the closet. Ridge has resorted to catching them and stuffing them into a backpack. He still hasn’t stopped cursing.