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My head swam, but it couldn’t stop the pungent worry from squeezing my heart. “What did you do to Max?”
Her eyes flashed, and she yelled, “Forget about him!”
“I won’t,” I told her. “I won’t ever.”
A resolved, empty look dropped over her stare. “Fine. Well, if I can’t have you, no one will.”
She turned toward her accomplice. I never would have expected these two to team up, but seeing them both here now, it seemed so obvious.
“He needs a time out. And while he’s rethinking his choices, we can move this bright-yellow sign telling everyone where he is. Once that’s done, we can get on with it.”
Get on with what?
“You said this would be easy.” Rinkin fumed. “It shouldn’t be taking this long.”
“He didn’t drink enough coffee!” she hissed. “We have to give him more.”
And that was my cue to go.
Shoving her away, I turned toward the street. I’d just go flag down help.
A hand closed around the back of my neck, and I swung, but the attempt was slow and halfhearted.
Rinkin laughed. “Fucking pathetic.”
Despite seeing his fist coming, it was like my body just couldn’t move out of the way.
And then it was lights out.
36
Max
The distinctive brightyellow of the Wrangler was like a beacon in the empty lot of the diner. Before we were even in the parking lot, I had the door popped open, ready to bail.
“You can’t help him if you’re injured,” Win bitched, tires squealing around the corner at a too-high speed, and then slammed the brakes in the center of the lot.
I was out and running without looking back. The second I got around the back end of the Wrangler, I noted the driver’s side door was open and a pair of jean-clad legs was visible from beneath the door.
“Wesley,” I bellowed, beyond pissed he was standing there doing who fucking knew what when I was losing my goddamn mind. I was absolutely going to spank him for this. “Wes!” I demanded, pounding forward.
A body pulled out from inside the Jeep and lunged. He was nothing but a blur as he attacked, but I didn’t have to see to know this wasn’t Wes. It also didn’t matter his aggression was a surprise. I caught him around the arms, slamming him against the side of the Wrangler and closing my hand around his throat to squeeze.
He wheezed, feet scuffling against the pavement as he tried to twist and kick. I threw my body weight into him, my shoulder knocking what little breath I allowed him to have right out of his lungs.
“Rinkin.” His name dropped from my lips, followed by a dark, rumbling growl.
The asshole swimmer’s eyes met mine, a fissure of wariness cracking his gaze. Pissed me off. This asswipe shouldn’t just be wary. He should be downright scared.
“What the fuck are you doing in Wes’s car?”
“Max,” Win said, jogging around the Wrangler.
“Look inside,” I bit out, my fingers tightening on Rinkin’s throat. This was far different from the way I played with Wes. This was not a game.
Win ran off, and I settled my stare on Rinkin. “Where is Wes?”
He started to say something, but his voice cracked, so I gentled my hold.
