Page 8 of Beautiful Defiance

5

SEVEN

“Hey, man, you all good here?”

I glance up from beneath the hood of my pickup truck. Malice and Trace are jogging toward me. I lower the hood and grab my backpack off the ground.

I cannot believe Leigh stole the fucking battery. When did she have the time, and most importantly, who the fuck helped her? The girls I know don’t know their way around the inside of a truck, much less have the strength to cart off in her backpack a heavy-as-a-load-of-bricks truck battery.

“Hey, have you seen the new girl?”

“You should be asking yourself that,” Trace says. “She was last seen with you.”

We didn’t make it to last night’s party. Instead, I straddled a lounge chair and stared a hole in Henry’s face with my hands tented over my mouth while my friends and teammates shot the breeze with him and his friends about college life and college girls.

After I gave the order it was time to call it a night, they exchanged spank bank pictures and we left. Henry hasn’t been far from my mind. I hate that asshole for messing with Leigh.

That job belongs to me. I reserve the right to let it be me and only me who makes Leigh’s life miserable. However, if she drops her defiance, I’ll forgive and forget, welcoming her to the town and my turf with open arms.

“It’s still early. Doesn’t she take the bus?” This from Malice.

“You noticed?” Shit, did I say that out loud?

He ignores my question and takes the conversation down a path that doesn’t sit well with me for many reasons, the primary one being that he is onto something.

“Any girl who can rock a one-piece is mighty fine in my book. She leaves enough to the imagination, if you know what I mean.”

I’m about to tell him to leave her the fuck alone. That he should return to getting a hard-on for Riley. But the bus pulls into the parking lot. Malice cups the back of his neck and shoots me a sly grin.

“Waiting for your girl like a pussy-whipped mother-effer.” He tsks.

A well-planted sock in the face is the cure for Malice’s what-the-fuckery.

“She is not my girl.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem if I pursue her. You’re right; it’s time I get over Riley.”

I see red. Turn so fast I get whiplash. I grab him by the front of his shirt. Slam my other hand, palm up, against the underside of his jaw.

“She’s off limits.”

He smirks. “We’ll see about that.” He untangles my fingers from his shirt. Smacks aside my palm.

We’ll see about that? Where is his loyalty? Did he lose his grip on who sits firmly on the throne? Fuck’s sake, my boys and I never fight over a girl.

My hands balled at my sides, I watch kids walk off the bus.

I’m not seeing Leigh. Is she okay? Don’t know how long she was underwater before the guys and I jumped the fence and found Henry drowning her. Damn, the murderous glare on the asshole’s face. What were he and Leigh disagreeing about?

“Anyone have her number?”

“Hannah might.”

Thank fuck for Trace’s ability to think on his feet.

We go in search of Hannah. As soon as she sees us, she stops talking, licks her lips, and does this weird shit with her eyes. Sorry, babe, but you are not pulling off the bedroom-eyes look. Hannah looks high. I cut to the chase.

“Haven’t seen her.” Hannah shuts her locker and pops her gum. “Not giving you her number either. Don’t have it.”

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