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“Your worst fuckin' nightmare,” Brody told him, his voice dead serious. “Name your terms.”
“We want snow.”
“How much?” Hut asked, seeming okay with Brody having stepped forward. He stood in line with him, shoulder to shoulder.
“Kilo,” Dad answered immediately.
Hut laughed. “Fuck you. I ain’t giving you shit.”
“Yeah?” Crystal turned, her other hand moving behind her, and then cold metal was being pressed against my throat. Hut had picked up his love of knives from her, so I should have known she’d have one on her.
I blinked, my eyes filling with tears, but it wasn’t because I was scared. I was angry, so goddamn angry that a volcano was about to erupt inside me. A small trickle of blood flowed down my neck and onto my chest as I stayed as still as I could. I focused on the two men in front of me. Hut was losing his control, his passive mask slipping off his face and giving way to the rage.
“Crystal? That’s your name, right?” Brody asked, stepping for
ward, now only a couple of feet in front of us.
“Yeah, what’s it to you?”
“I just wonder if you have the balls to slit her throat.” Brody shrugged and took another step forward. “And if you do have the balls, whether you’ll be quick enough.”
Crystal scoffed. “Quick enough for—”
Brody lunged forward, grabbed her wrist and yanked it toward him and to the right. I stumbled to the side, my knees smacking off the concrete ground. A clump of hair ripped out of my scalp, but I didn’t care about that right now. The knife had slipped as he grabbed her, and she cut the side of my neck. My palm slapped against the stinging cut, but I knew on instinct that she hadn’t done much damage.
Shouts rang out around me, shuffling of feet, and then hands gripped under my arms and pulled me into the house. “You’ll be okay, Lola,” Ford said, his voice as calm as always. It was the same calmness he’d exuded when he caught Hut in my bedroom, holding a knife to my neck much the same as Crystal just had. Only that time, Hut had gone too far by ripping my jeans off me and tearing my T-shirt.
People grunted around me, and I saw a flash of silver coming toward Brody from Crystal. He let his grip on her wrist go so he could back away from the knife, but in doing so, she managed to disappear in the crowd of people.
I nodded at Ford, not quite sure what to say as I tried to find my feet. Apparently, my body had rid itself of any adrenaline, and I was now firmly in shock. I stared at the clock on the wall, watching the seconds tick by as people walked through the kitchen and out of the front door. People milled about, shouts mixing in with pounding on walls, but all the while I sat there, my hand glued to my neck and my thoughts a mile away.
This was just another reason I needed to get away from here. I couldn’t keep living my life this way: On edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of these days a knife wouldn’t be the only weapon. I knew that was the truth. It was only a matter of time.
“Lola?”
I blinked, the bright light in the kitchen nearly blinding me as I looked up at Hut.
“You okay?”
“I…” I stared at Hut, tracking my gaze along his jaw, his nose that was crooked in the middle from when it was broken in high school, and up to his eyes. “I’m okay.”
“Good. We’re heading out to find Mom and Gus. They ain’t gonna get away with this.” His nostrils flared, and he spun around, heading straight out the front door. I wasn’t sure what “this” was, but I had a feeling it wasn’t because I’d gotten hurt. It was because they’d dared to come into his home and demand something.
A hand circled my wrist, and I recognized the long fingers right away. “Let me check it before I leave,” Brody said, his voice low and gentle. His thumb rubbed back and forth over my pulse, and I slowly lowered my hand.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I told him. It stung, but more like a paper cut than anything else. I think the shock of having a knife held to my throat by my stepmom was worse than the actual cut.
Brody prodded and wiped at it with some damp paper towel and then pressed some gauze there. “I think you’ll live.” He crouched in front of me and placed his hands on either side of the chair. “Lola? Look at me.” I swallowed and met his gaze. “You good?”
Was I good? I had no idea, but I nodded anyway because admitting I wasn’t okay wasn’t an option.
Chapter Eight
LOLA
I hadn’t been able to fall asleep. No matter how hard I tried, every time I closed my eyes, all I could feel was the knife pressed against my throat and Crystal’s body pressed against mine. I’d listened to every little noise while the guys were gone, and heard the door slam shut around half an hour ago.
The low rumbling of the TV vibrated through the floor, and I rolled over for what felt like the thousandth time. I hadn’t seen my dad for months, and then he showed up for nothing but drugs and money—yet again. He hadn’t spoken to me, not even looked at me. That was how much he didn’t give a shit.
