Page 114 of Downpour

Brooke’s eyes widened in the moonlight.

Shit. What the hell was I going to do? The police response time this far out wasn’t worth a crap. I couldn’t do jack shit. Just getting in my wheelchair would make a fuck ton of noise.

Brooke ripped the covers back as I grabbed my phone to call CJ.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Get back here.”

Brooke, in her panties and my t-shirt, slid out of bed and grabbed one of my cuffed forearm crutches that was propped up against the wall.

“Get your ass in bed,” I snapped in a whisper. “I’m calling CJ.”

“And I’m going to see what the fuck is out there,” Brooke whispered.

“No.”

“Yes.”

The call to CJ connected, but Brooke was at the door before I could stop her. I yanked the covers back and felt around in the dark for the arm of my wheelchair. “Brooke?—“

She tiptoed into the kitchen then screamed. I heard the clunk and thud of the crutch connecting with a body. My blood ran cold.

“Brooke!” I roared as I dropped into my wheelchair and peeled out of the bedroom.

Brooke grunted as she pulled back and swung again like a slugger.

Headlights flashed across the front of the house. A shadowed figure grunted and let out a shout before bolting out the back door and off the deck. Brooke lunged towards the back yard, and I grabbed her arm.

“Stop,” I roared.

“But he’s getting?—“

“I don’t give a shit!” I snapped. “Get in the bedroom and lock the fucking door.”

Brooke scoffed. “Fat chance of that!”

The front door cracked as CJ kicked it open and barrelled in. He flicked the lights on and paused.

Brooke was wielding a forearm crutch like a sword, I had her arm in my grasp, and we were both in our underwear.

“Get. In. The. Bedroom,” I said through gritted teeth.

Brooke pointed to the open sliding door. “Call. The. Cops.”

I let her go and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re gonna give me an aneurysm.”

“Hey now,” CJ said as he eased into the situation. “What the hell happened? You called me at three in the morning and didn’t say anything.”

All at once, the adrenaline seemed to drain away from Brooke and reality set in. “Someone broke in,” she whispered.

CJ raised an eyebrow. “And you chased him out with a crutch?”

“I hit him twice and then he ran,” Brooke said. Her breath quickened as she looked at the crutch in her hand.

Anger burned inside me like a pool of fire.

I glanced at CJ, and he glared at me. Because of course he did. He and Brooke got along great.

Just one more fucking reminder that she should have been with someone else.

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