Page 109 of Blitz'd

I don’t get why Justin wanted to fuck with Zander, though.

It doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day, they’re both fucked and they just don’t know it. A part of me wants to wait out by their cars, to make sure they pay for thistonight. If it weren’t for the fact that I needed to get to Zander—if it weren’t for the fact that I needed to plan this out—I would have done it.

I guess being in love really did make me a better person, because the old me would have gone around the table and forked those motherfuckers’ eyes out for touching something that belonged to me.

* * *

He’sfine. If there’s a concussion, it’s so mild nothing showed up. Nothing is broken, and the bruises on his ribs and sprain in his ankle are already fading by the time a week has gone by. I canseewhat they were aiming for—the low hit, the way Easton twisted his body when he took him to the ground.

He was trying to break something.

He really was trying to end Zander’s career—fuck his leg or his arm up so he’d get looked over during the draft because he was in PT.

The thought eats away at the back of my mind like a black cloud, even as I insist Zander pack a bag and come stay at my apartment while he recovers. He laughs at first, but his roommate seems fine with having the dorm to himself, though he makes us promise to call and let him know howZandyis doing.

And all I can think of as I tuck Zander into my bed and brush his dark hair out of his face is that there’s no world where I’m going to let Easton and Justin get away with this.

Honestly, they make it too easy. I was thinking I was going to have to come up with some elaborate scheme where I made Easton call Justin so I could get to them both… but I hear the fucker on the phone with him, planning some night out to go drinking together a week after the game.

I’m careful—I leave my phone at my apartment and Zander asleep in my bed. I’m on my way out when Asher’s voice catches me off guard. I didn’t evenseehim in the kitchen.

“You really love him, huh?”

My gaze flicks to my roommate. I’m ready to make him part of my list for tonight if he has shit to say about it, but his expression is… soft.

A little wistful.

“Yeah. I do.”

Asher looks me over once, his eyes dropping to the keys in my hand and then rising back up to my face.

“Be careful out there. Maybe take my car… less flashy. And I’m parked on the street, so no one will notice.”

Does heknowwhat I’m going to do? Is it written across my features? Is it because I have on an oversized hoodie and jeans I never wear? Maybe it’s the black bag I have slung over my shoulder. I don’t know.

I don’t care.

I just know where these two fuckers are supposed to meet up, and I want to make sure I catch them off guard. I grab Asher’s keys as he tosses them to me and I wonder again…

I think about the expression he had when he threatened my mom before… Is there a part of Asher that really is just as fucked up as I am?

It’s something to think about later. For now, I drop my keys onto the counter and head out.

It’s just my luck the run-down bar they picked is a few towns over and in a seedy area—maybe they didn’t want to be seen together like the little fucking co-conspirators they are. Whatever the reason, it means I shouldn’t run into anyone I know while I’m waiting in the parking lot for them to come out.

It takes a few hours, and they’re swaying when they push through the door, fucked out of their mind on beer and stumbling toward the back of the lot where they parked. They were probably trying to be inconspicuous, but it means I don’t have to lure them into some dark alley. It’s even better because as far as I can see, there aren’t any cameras anywhere. Even if there are, I have the hood of my dark jacket up to hide the black Halloween mask I have on. They parked facing an empty building—no one behind us, no reason for anyone to see what I’m going to do.

I just have to be careful.

Fast.

A blitz attack.

I’m quiet when I get out of the car, and I can hear them murmuring.

“Maybe we should just corner him next time—if you take a bat to his knee, you can break it.” That’s Easton, slurring like he can’t hold his liquor at all. Which means the voice that grunts and responds is Justin.

“Or his arm, that way he can’t catch anything again. Then I?—”

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