Page 207 of Bona Fide

“You won’t be seeing shit, right now, little Shelton,” he retorts and crosses his arms like that’s going to do something. “I’ll have the volume turned down so that you can focus on whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“The fuck does that mean?” I slash my brows, my head almost hitting my back because I have to pry it so far to actually look at his face.

“It means go.” He raises his brow and gives me a dismissive wave with his bulky hand. “I’ll have Em—Marty come get you when he’s available.”

“Makehim available now,” I fume. “Or I’ll find a way to get to him.” Hulk smirks like what I’m saying is cute.

He doesn’t know me.

Dick.

“Are you saying you want to try me, Hulk?” He rolls his hazel eyes and folds his massive-overworked arms. “What are you doing, trying out for the Arnold Schwarzenegger muscle building event or something?”

“Ha,” he deadpans, clearly unamused.

“One…” I begin. “Two…”

“What number are you counting to?”

“I’ll give you five.” He nods and continues being a wall. “Three…” He yawns. “Four…” He checks his fingernails. “Marty!”

I scream like I’m about to fall off a fucking cliff and I need him to save me. Like I’m about to be run over by a semi-truck and I needed to be pushed out the way at the last second. Or like I had a gun pointed directly at me just like earlier, although, my scream wouldn’t break through my fear—take your pick.

“Are you—” I release another scream, keeping my eyes aimed directly at him.

Yeah, motherfucker, I’m serious.

I hear the hurried footsteps against hardwood floors, a convulsed exhale as the doorknob behind the Hulk rattles, my brother shoving the “new wall of asshole” and appearings at his side.

“What the fuck?!” Marty looks like a madman. His uneven breathing is alarming, his eyes widen with fear before they quickly roam down the length of me. “What the hell happened?”

I nod to his whatever the fuck he is. “He wouldn’t let me through.” Marty’s mouth drops a little before his brows slam together.

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.” I popped that “p” with no damn shame. My brother rounds on his dude and straightens his spine.

“You can’t handle my damn sister?” he snaps.

“I was until she screamed bloody murder,” he rebuffs “If she’s half as fucking crazy as you, should’ve locked her up. I’m not a babysitter.”

“No, you’re just a damn brick—stupid as hell.”

“Fuck you,” the Hulk sneers. “I’m going to handle the rest of your shit.” He marches into the room that Marty just appeared out of, leaving me with a glare from my brother.

“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.”

“What the hell is that screaming?” I rebuke back, propping a hand on one of my hips. “Who is screaming, Marty, and what are you—” It’s then that I see it. How couldn’t I before, he’s only been standing in front of me for the last two and a half minutes?

Blood.

His forearms have splatters of it along with the hair of his arms. There is a small splatter on his neck, and I compel my eyes back to his.

“What?”

“What?! Why is there blood on you?” He doesn’t even bother to study himself, fully aware already. “Marty...who is screaming?” His jaw hardens, eyes warning me to stop asking questions that I know I don’t want to know the answers to.

Thing is, I need to know. I feel as though I’m looking at a stranger, but I know who he is. It’s the boy now turned man who always had my back. Who always had my best interest at heart. He was there, I grew up with him, but the mask of who is in front of me now—I don’t know what to think.

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