Page 9 of Tripp

Before I could skate around his enraged form, he leapt at me and tackled me to the ground. “You fucking bitch!” His knees made good work of pinning down my arms, so the only thing I could do was shake my head from side to side. As if that was going to help me. I closed my eyes, willing my mind to float off to a safer place, but I was stuck inside that darkened room with a man who was hell-bent on taking what he thought he was owed.

Drops of his blood hit my cheek, forcing me to open my eyes and face the reality of what was going to happen. I decided to plead with him once more. “Please don’t do this. Please just let me go.” I begged him over and over, but it was no use. And my silly attempts to buck him off barely registered. He was simply too strong.

His hands wrapped around my throat before another word left my lips. Dots flashed behind my eyes. I started to fall under an all-too-familiar darkness, and although I did everything in my power to stop it, I feared all of my efforts were in vain. If I fell unconscious, he’d surely have his way with me. Not that I could do much while I was awake, but at least if I were lucid, I’d still have a shot.

The darkness would still my struggle.

The light would give me a fighting chance.

Tripp

I rested my head against the top of the booth, taking in all the activity of the club, but nothing I saw distracted me fromher. The mysterious woman who not ten minutes prior had burrowed into the deepest parts of my brain.

“I thought you were leaving,” Hawke yelled, slapping my shoulder before taking a healthy swig of his drink.

Afterherperformance I knew there was no way in hell I was leaving any time soon. My inner voice had convinced me to stay, so I slinked into the nearest booth and attempted to cool my overactive thoughts with some hard alcohol.

“Nah,” I responded nonchalantly. “I’m gonna hang out a bit longer.” I never made eye contact with my brother for fear he’d pick up on something I wasn’t completely sure of myself. Hawke may play a dumbass most times but the guy was super observant.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, throwing back a shot before his head twisted to the side. Slapping the table, well on his way to becoming drunk, he shouted, “’Bout time you fuckers got here.” Turning my head, I saw Ryder and Breck approach, both of them looking like someone killed their dog, if they’d had one.

Neither one of them said a word as they nestled into the booth next to Hawke and me, spreading out enough so we weren’t crammed together, which would just be weird. Ryder reached for my scotch but I slapped his hand away before he’d grabbed the glass.

“What the fuck, nomad?” he yelled, quickly retracting his hand.

“You know damn well you ain’t gettin’ any of this shit.”

“Who died and made you my keeper?” His scowl would have scared most people, but not me. Besides, I knew Ryder enough to know that he wouldn’t make good on any threats while he was sober. And by sober I meant no hard alcohol flowing through his veins. Otherwise, all bets were off.

“Beer,” I said, taking a healthy swallow of my drink.

“What?”

“Beer, you bastard. That’s all you’re gettin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” he growled, shoving Breck from the booth so he could get out. Luckily, I caught Carla’s attention and shook my head while pointing at Ryder who was fast approaching the bar. But my warning was unnecessary; everyone who worked the bar knew not to serve Ryder anything but beer.

Turning my attention back on Breck, I asked, “Why the face?”

No hesitation before he spilled. “Marek’s ridin’ our asses about the rotation with Psych. He’s coming unhinged and it’s scaring the shit out of me.”

“Comingunhinged?”

“Well . . . more than usual.” He shook his head as if he disagreed with some sort of inner dialogue, locking eyes with me before he frowned.

Ryder striding back to our table pulled all of our attention.

“You fucker. That chick wouldn’t serve me what I wanted,” he griped before pushing Breck farther into the booth so he could sit back down.

“Why you want that shit anyway?” Hawke shouted over the music, tapping the top of the table in beat with the song.

“I could just use a shot of something to help take the edge off.”

“Why?” Hawke repeated. “Braylen getting on your nerves?” My brother laughed, and seeing the look on Ryder’s face only made him laugh harder. “Shit!” he exclaimed. “Never thought I’d see the day when the big bad Ryder was all twisted up from some fuckin’ broad.”

“Fuck you. I don’t even know what Edana sees in your dumb ass,” Ryder goaded, knowing damn well Hawke was gonna retaliate. Which he did, seconds after Ryder shut his mouth. Hawke jumped up from his seat and lunged over the table, reaching out to grab Ryder’s cut, the volatile look on his face warning everyone around him he was set to explode.

Pulling him back, I shoved Hawke back in his seat, throwing my arm across his chest to try and keep him contained. Which was quite challenging because he kept trying to go after Ryder, who sat across from us with a fuckin’ smirk on his face.

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