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Chapter ten
Asher
Chaos.
That’s what I found when I opened the door.
I didn’t know how, in the scant few minutes since Betty had headed out the door, things could have devolved into...whatever the hell seemed to be happening, but clearly, it had.
Betty was turned away from me, one arm on the window next to her apartment door, the other clutching what appeared to be the neck of a broken bottle.
The bottle I had just given her, apparently.
Gramps would be pissed to see his best single malt in a puddle on the sidewalk, but that wasn’t my prime concern at the moment.
No, that would have been the man on his knees, surrounded by the shards of broken glass, one hand pressed to his temple, blood leaking between his fingers in a slow trickle.
“Betty?” I called, and she jumped, dropping the broken bottle with a clatter and standing up straight, her back still to me.
“I’m good,” she replied, but her voice sounded strange, muted and tired, so different from the bright, teasing way she had spoken to me only minutes before.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked, turning to the guy who was shakily climbing to his feet. He looked at me, then at Easton, who was standing beside me but, rather than answer, the guy glared at us, his whiskey-soaked face pulled into an angry snarl.
“You’re dead, bitch,” he spat at Betty, before he started to run, darting across the street and drawing a long honk from a passing car as he weaved through traffic unsteadily.
My first instinct was to chase him; the guy was clearly bad news, if his horrible words and the bloody gash on his head were any indication. I knew Betty was a bit feisty, but I didn’t think she was the type to just go around braining guys with perfectly good whiskey bottles for no reason. So, I figured he’d done something pretty shitty if she’d felt that hitting him was her only option.
And the thought of some random jackoff being shitty to Betty really pissed me off.
I took a few steps toward where the guy was running, his skinny form now headed toward the end of the block, but Easton’s voice pulled me up short.
“Holy fuck.”
Spinning around, I finally saw what had Easton freaking out, and my anger ratcheted up even more.
Because there was Betty, leaned against the window, the lower half of her face covered in blood.
“What the hell did he do to you?” I questioned, stepping closer, freezing when she flinched away from me. Holding my hands up in supplication, I slowed my movements, not wanting her to be wary of me.
“It’s alright, darlin’,” Easton soothed, his voice low and steady, the way I imagined he spoke to the nervous horses on the ranch. “We ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
“I know,” she insisted, but her eyes were still wide. Running the back of her hand under her nose, Betty hissed when she saw her fingers come away bloody.
“Why don’t you come inside?” I suggested. “I’ll help you clean up a bit.”
She hesitated, her eyes darting from me to the door to her apartment and back a few times before, with a resigned sigh, she nodded.
“I guess it would freak my roommate out if I turned up looking like an extra in a slasher flick.” Pushing heavily off the window, Betty moved toward me, her steps slow and her shoulders tight.
“I’m gonna go see if I can find that guy,” Easton said.
“Just be careful, alright?” Betty ran her tongue over her bloody lips, her brows drawn down low. “He had a knife.” Easton nodded, but didn’t look the least bit concerned.
“Are you fuckin’ serious?” I barked as the door closed behind him, and Betty frowned even harder at me.
“No, Asher, I’m not serious. It was actually a banana he threatened me with.” Throwing her hands up dramatically, she shook her head. “Now I feel like I got all worked up for nothing.”
“Alright, alright.” I chuckled dryly. “It was a rhetorical question. No need to get spicy.”
