Page 80 of Memories of Us

Rebeka

“WE'RE CLOSE,” I SAIDto the others as we walked side by side down the old county road.

“Can't believe you talked us into this,” Ryder grumbled. “Pulled me out of bed even.”

I smirked at the glowing phone screen. Damn, that girl could hold a grudge. We didn't talk about our argument on the call when I asked for her and Kyle's help, or in the truck on the way here. But what made friendships like ours amazing was that we didn’t have to. Not right now at least. We could table it until we had the allotted time, and a few bottles of wine, to hash things out and wrap it up with a good romcom movie.

This was not that night.

The weight of the large rifle pressed against my shoulder. I adjusted the shoulder strap to the other side to relieve the growing ache.

“I'm pissed the bastard didn't ask for my help to begin with,” Kyle said while tugging the gun from my shoulder. “Beka, calm down. I'll give it back. Don't shoot me that ‘I’ll cut you’ look. Just offering to be your pack mule until we get there and this big guy is needed.”

Ryder linked elbows with mine like we were on a Sunday stroll instead of what we were actually doing—heading to a buyout meeting to save the arrogant asshole who held my heart, packing only a rifle, one AR, and four pistols between us. Kyle was a hell of a shot and offered to bring his AR in case things got out of hand, and Ryder being Ryder brought her .40-caliber hand cannon, plus snacks.

It was twenty after one when voices of men talking carried on the gusting wind. I snapped the phone off and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans to take the rifle from Kyle's extended hand.

On silent feet, we crouched closer toward the lights and voices.

Once the group was in view, we lay along the ground where we had a clear line of sight and waited.

“Can you hear what they're saying?” Ryder whispered between crunching bites. I turned from the group to stare at her incredulously. “What? I eat when I'm nervous. You know that.”

I shook my head and turned to look back through the scope. Thank goodness we decided to show up. This could get out of hand quick.

Four men stood across from Brenton, illuminated by two sets of headlights. A couple more of the bad guys leaned against the hood of their two idling trucks.

“I count six baddies and one Sir Fancy Pants,” I whispered to Kyle. “You?”

“Same. I don't see any hanging around the edges on patrol, but I want to double-check. Ryder, stay with Beka.”

A soft wind brushed through my hair and over my sweaty face. Shit, what would we do if they shot him? Take them all out? We needed a plan. All I could think about was getting out here, and now that we were, I was at a loss.

“Hey,” Ryder whispered.

“What?”

“I need to tell you something.”

I pulled back from the scope. “Now?”

“Yeah, it's kind of important.”

I rested the rifle along the ground and turned to her. “What's going on?”

“I think... I'm calling off the wedding.”

I stared unblinkingly at my best friend for what seemed like thirty minutes, trying to figure out if I heard her right. Then approaching steps had me grabbing the rifle and turning to the intruder.

“Just me,” Kyle said as he crouched between us. “Just those fuckers we see. No one else. But it looks like it's getting heated down there. Not sure what's being said, but it seems like your boy is toying with them.”

“Wouldn't surprise me,” I grumbled. “That guy has always loved a fight.”

“Except they have guns.”

“I'm sure Brenton does too.”

I felt more than saw Kyle shake his head. “Look on the ground, by his feet. They made him toss it.”

---