Page 27 of Flash

I huff and shake my head. A lie forms on the tip of my tongue, but it’s Tex. He’s not a gossip, so I decide to just be honest.

“Yeah.”

“Really? Has anyone won the bet yet?” He chuckles.

“No,” I bark.

Tex gives me a coy, crooked smile. “Piston has a theory.”

I raise my eyebrows, then glance over my shoulder at the house. Fucking Piston has always been able to read me like a book, but I have no clue what kind of theory he could have right now. I haven’t said a word to them about Lewis except the vague answer the other night in Jag’s garage.

“Care to share?” I prompt.

Before he can tell me what Piston’s theory is, the door swings open behind us again. The sound of tires screeching against pavement breaks through the quiet night at the same second. My muscles tense, all of us going on alert in an instant. Hero steps in front of his sister and I pivot to see a silver sedan slamming to a stop at an odd angle across the end of the driveway. The driver’s door flies open and a man jumps out. He’s wearing a security guard uniform, a heavy flashlight hanging from his belt, his face purple with rage.

I pull my shoulders back, taking full advantage of my size, while Tex and Piston move closer on either side of me so we’re shoulder to shoulder, blocking him from even setting eyes on Val.

“Better to just turn around, mate,” Jag says with his signature taunting drawl, sauntering around to stand in front of the three of us.

“Who the fuck are you?” the dickhead growls, his eyes skating over Jag for just a second before settling on me. “This is between me and her. Fucking move.”

“No,” I say simply. “Like my friend here said, just turn around and go back to work.”

He scoffs and takes a threatening step forward. None of us flinch.

“Valerie,” he shouts in the same tone someone might use when calling a misbehaving dog. I grind my teeth together.

Hero leans in to look at him over my shoulder.

“She’s done with your shit. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“Mind your fucking business,” he spits, reaching for the flashlight in his holster.

“My family is my business,” Hero barks.

“Our business,” I correct.

Piston grunts in agreement and Jag takes his own step forward, invading the asshole’s space and cracking his knuckles threateningly.

“You don’t want to do this,” Jag warns.

The man scoffs and in a blink, he has his heavy metal flashlight unsheathed and is swinging it like a club in Jag’s direction. My reflexes are faster than Jag’s just this once, a hiss escaping between my teeth as the bludgeon cracks into my knuckles. I ignore the pain that sears through my hand and up my arm, flipping my hand around to wrap my fingers around the flashlight. I manage to wrench it out of his hand while Jag puts his years of Jiu Jitsu into practice, taking the fucker out at the knees before he even knows what hit him.

He lies on his back on the lawn, coughing and trying to catch the breath the fall knocked out of his lungs. There was a time long ago when I wouldn’t have been satisfied to leave it at that. I would have been on him in an instant, giving him a taste of his own fucking medicine, because fuck knows he never stopped when Val was vulnerable.

But she was right before. It’s not worth it.

I flip the flashlight in my hand, hiding the wince at the swelling I can already feel starting in my knuckles. Jag steps forward and puts his foot on the dude’s chest, grinding the heel of his boot down probably a little harder than necessary.

“Why do shitbags like you never listen?” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Now, we’re going to go. You be a good boy and stay right here until we’re gone. And then, do the smart thing and don’t come sniffing around Val again, or you’re going to have a problem.”

He lets up, then struts across the lawn, pulling open the door to Val’s car with a flourish.

“Right this way, babycakes.”

I expected more of a fight from the boyfriend, but he does as he’s told and stays on the ground while Hero puts his sister’s bag into her car and watches her get in. Since the dude parked like an asshole, we have to drive over the lawn to get out, but landscaping is his problem, not ours.

We flank Val’s car down the quiet suburban street with a sense of pride and purpose. Val is safe tonight thanks to us. That’s more than worth the swollen knuckles.

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