AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Alright, but before you do, let’s talk about it. Okay?”
“When I’m ready, sure.” I smile.
Chapter 31
“What the fuck, dude?” Lix ducks, just missing the two-by-four I’m holding in my hand. “Watch where you’re swinging that thing.”
I shoot him an aggravated look.
“Get your head in the game before I lose mine,” he says with a faint chuckle.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Well, I do. I haven’t seen Harper in nearly two weeks. I miss her sarcastic sass, not to mention the burst of excitement she detonates inside me whenever I see her. It’s a feeling like no other. I wonder if that’s how Brett feels when he sees Cassie.
Fuck. I’ve gotta let it go. There’s no future for us.
Obviously, she doesn’t want to see me because she hasn’t reached out. Not even a text. When all the cards were laid down on the table, she was forced to stay with me by her aunt and the danger the escort put her in. I’m sure, now that she’s had some time to think about it, she’s decided this life’s not for her. She’ll likely head back to Texas when Willa takes over.
Lix’s cell chimes. He crams his hammer into his tool belt to answer it. “Yeah.” He nods, eyes leaping around the room. “Where?” He pauses. “Okay.” He looks at me. “Thanks.”
“Is that a Julia call?” I rush out, hope filling me.
Fuck!
Something is wrong with me that I get excited about a Julia call. I’ll get to see Harper, but that also means there’s a woman in danger or worse. I get nauseous, and my stomach flips. I’m sickened by my reaction. But fuck, if I don’t hang on for Lix’s answer.
“Yeah.”
“I got it.” I drop the two-by-four and point at him. “Send me the info.” I leave out the door.
After having a dueling conversation with myself on the ride over about how fucked up I am for wanting to take the call just so I can see Harper, I park my truck a house down from my destination.
I check my cell for the info again; no weapons, just the victim and abuser are home. I look at the picture, grab my shit, and head for the house.
Lifting my hand to give the door a knock, I hear a loud scream. I grip the handle. It’s unlocked, so I push the door open. The abuser has the woman by the hair. He slams her into the wall, and she drops to the floor.
He turns and sees me.
Fists clenched, I head toward him with so much built-up aggression and force that he doesn’t have time to respond to the solid punch I deliver to his face. I follow with a strike to his ribs. My hand clutches his throat, and I squeeze.
His dark eyes bulge. His face flushes red. He grips my arms, struggling to break free. He’s a big fucker. He’s got about sixty pounds on me. And it’s not from beer or junk food.
It’s definitely from pumping iron.
I glimpse at the woman. “You okay?”
She rubs her head, then looks at her bloody shaking hand. “I think so.”
I lock my legs to gain better control of the fucker. “Get your stuff.”
Her frightened eyes skid to the fucker. “But—”
“I’ll take care of it. Just get your—” Shit! This fucker is strong!
Strangled or not, he musters up enough strength to catch me in the eye with his fist. It’s going to leave a mark.
Dammit! I’m supposed to see Mom tomorrow. How am I going to explain away another bruise?
I dodge the next swing. With my hand still clenched to his throat, I drop him to the floor. I jump on him and treat his face like a punching bag until he loses his fight. Sitting on him, out of breath, I rest my hands on my thighs and lower my head.
