Page 6 of Séance

We watch as the truck finally parks, and two older men jump out of the cab wearing overalls. Instead of going to work, they head toward the girl with jeering expressions that have the hair on the back of my neck rising, and I scowl at the fuckers.

Before I can charge downstairs, feeling oddly protective of the girl, Jameson and Gunner pull up in the driveway with a roar of an engine. Their newly acquired, renovated car almost sounds ready for the racetrack. Just a little more cosmetic work and new tires, and they’ll be ready for their first race at the unsanctioned drag track near the gravel pit.

Gunner must have just gotten off work and picked up Jameson from his ladydu jour.

As they step out of the car, Jameson chuckles at some joke, while Gunner just smirks. They stride toward the house, and I mentally count in my head how long it will take Jameson to notice the female. It’s like he has a sixth sense about them. He’s a total hound dog, unable to keep his dick out of a pussy for longer than twenty-four hours.

I swear he switches girls more than he switches his underwear at this point.

As predicted, he casually looks over at the neighbor’s house, then stops dead like he slammed into a brick wall. Jameson being Jameson, his tongue practically hangs out of his mouth as he pants after the chick. Gunner only takes a few more steps before he also pauses. While Gunner is more reserved, he stares like he’s just as mesmerized, and I’m instantly jealous that he has a better view.

It’s only when Mrs. Killaghan waves at the boys that their paralysis fades. Jameson goes without hesitation, his love of women, no matter the age, knowing no bounds. He enjoys popping over to chat with the old woman whenever he has time. I almost expect Gunner to ignore her, but he’s too respectful of his elders, especially since the kooky woman is like a nosy grandmother to all of us.

They lope toward the old woman, shooting frequent looks at the mysterious girl, no doubt hoping to draw her attention, but she’s busy reading the tablet the guy from the truck thrust in her face.

Something about the way the two truck drivers are checking her out has a sick knot tightening in my stomach, and I push away from the window. “I’m heading down there.”

I’ll beat fucking manners into the two delivery idiots, completely ignoring the fact that the others and I were staring at her like dogs over a bloody piece of meat. Although we might go through women like tissues, we were taught to treat them with respect. The only exception is when a bitch crosses us. It’s one reason most women don’t get mad at us for our hound dog ways—we’re too fucking charming.

“I’ll join you,” Hicks replies, cracking his neck, obviously noticing the same thing as me. Something about the men, who are twice as old as her, checking her out while she’s not looking is creepy as fuck.

Jaceson just grunts and grabs a shirt before shoving his feet into his shoes and following. We’re out the door in under a minute. By the time we’re crossing the front yard, Gunner and Jameson are heading toward the trailer.

Jameson wears a scowl as he notices the two creepy fuckers have practically cornered her against the truck, and while Gunner might look unaffected, his knuckles are white.

Someone is going to bleed.

“Why don’t I help you into the trailer so you can take inventory?” The one with the beer belly hanging over his gut and a good forty pounds overweight leans over her, breathing down her neck as he does his best to peer down her shirt. The slimmer one is younger but no less unsavory. His greasy hair and body odor say he’s the type to pay for female attention…or take it when denied. I quicken my pace, not wanting them to even breathe in her scent.

“No need,” Jameson replies smoothly, slipping between them with a toothy smile that doesn’t fool anyone. “Mrs. Killaghan asked us to help. We’re young and strong and can get everything moved in a fraction of the time. Why don’t you wait in the cab of the truck?”

The truck driver’s eyes narrow, looking ready to argue, but something about the manic gleam in Gunner’s dark eyes must convince them to do as ordered.

He’s one scary motherfucker.

“Sure, no problem.” The man yanks the tablet away from the girl. “I don’t mind you doing my work for me.”

He saunters away like he won the match, his slimy partner following after him, but everyone knows he just saved himself from a major beatdown. No one moves until they disappear back into the truck.

“Ugh, it’s like they tainted the air just by breathing,” the girl complains, waving her hand in front of her face as if to dissipate the stench.

We all turn toward her, part of me relaxing now that the threat is gone…until I get a look at her face. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I mentally groan after I blurt out my thoughts, but I don’t take it back.

Someone beat the fuck out of her.

Though the bruises around her face are healing, they are a nasty green color that indicates the fucker who beat her didn’t hold back his punches. The bruises nearly cover the whole left side of her face, her split lip is only just healing. The way she stiffens at my uncouth comment, favoring her left side, tells me that there are even more injuries I can’t see.

I clench my fists as I struggle to contain my barely controlled rage, wondering who the fuck would beat on such an angel, because although it shouldn’t be possible, she’s even more beautiful up close.

There’s no way she is a mere mortal.

Her milky skin is so pale, it’s like she’s never seen the sun. It’s so dazzling that it’s hard not to reach out and touch her just to make sure she’s real.

Hicks steps right up into her space, his expression dark. When he reaches for her face, she flinches but doesn’t look away or back down. His hand pauses, and he waits for her to protest. When she doesn’t, he gently touches her jaw with his fingertips and tilts her face to the light.

A muscle ticks in his jaw, and I know he’s seconds away from losing his shit. His pet peeve is violence against women, those who can’t protect themselves. His father has never laid a hand on his mother, but the domineering bastard doesn’t allow anyone else to have an opinion. The suffocating atmosphere istriggering for him, one guaranteed to stir up memories better left forgotten.

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