Page 82 of Memories of Us

“Not that,” I hissed. “Brenton.”

One man sucker punched Brenton in the gut while two others held back his arms. The entire bad guy crew had a good laugh while each got a hit in. Still, Brenton didn't attempt to break free.

“What’s going on?” Ryder asked between crunchy bites.

“Shh.”

“Wish this reality show came with subtitles.”

My heart ratcheted against my chest when one man drew his pistol and pointed it at Brenton’s chest.

“Shit's about to get real. Hand me the ammo.”

The bullets rattled in the box from her trembling hand as she handed it over. “What can I do?”

“Calm me down. I can't shoot like this.” Settling back, I raised the gun to line up the scope. “My hands are fucking shaking.”

Ryder rambled about work, her parents, life. With each second, each word, my heartbeat steadied and my nerves quietened. When Kyle's first bullet went through the passenger door of a truck, I was ready.

Taking aim, I focused on the driver-side window and pulled the trigger. Glass shattered less than a second later, echoing through the night. I only paused long enough to make sure our distraction was noticed.

I shot out window after window while Kyle peppered the metal sides with the AR from his vantage point.

The men shouted, and the one holding the gun to Brenton spun around, firing frantically into the dark. Brenton collapsed to the ground when the two men dropped him to run toward a truck and leap in the bed as it disappeared down the road. Within seconds the other truck had roared off in the same direction, leaving only my truck's headlights pouring through the night.

Rifle in hand, I raced through the dust and dirt toward Brenton. At the sound of my approach, he pushed off the ground, only to fall back again. Furious green eyes locked with mine the second I stepped into the bright beams.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he coughed before spitting a mix of blood and saliva to the dirt.

“It looks like saving your dumb ass is what,” I retorted with a smile, which fell when he spit another mouthful of blood to the ground. “Face the beams so I can check your face.”

“I'm not one of your damn animals. I'm fine.”

“You sure? Because you're acting like a jackass right now.” I smirked down at his snarl. “Get it? Jackass? Donkey?”

Stone-faced, he turned into the light. Like I'd done with Bradley just days earlier, I pushed the emotion aside to focus on the task at hand. Not once did he flinch or balk at my prodding fingers along his injuries. Besides a busted lip and swollen cheek, no other wounds were visible on his face, though who knew what was broken or cracked beneath this shirt. He’d be sore for days, that was certain.

“Besides being a dumbass, I think you're fine.” I stood and extended a hand to help him up. He groaned in pain as I put my full body weight into yanking him to his feet. A loud thump reverberated through the still night as he fell against the truck for support.

I turned to Kyle and Ryder who’d just walked up staying silent during our spat. “You guys go ahead. I'll drive him back.”

“You sure?” Ryder asked.

I nodded. “I still have my rifle and SIG if they come back. Thanks for helping.”

“Always, you know that,” Kyle said with a wave. “Call us if you need anything.”

“Hey,” Brenton gritted out with a wince. “Thanks.”

“We would've come with you from the beginning,” Ryder said with her arms folded across her chest. “Why did you come into this alone?”

His eyes shifted to stare into the darkness. “It's my fight. From what I could gather from Bradley, most of the debt was what Caleb owed before he died. I didn't want to drag anyone else into this mess. Especially not her.”

Her.

Me.

“You really are a dumbass.” Ryder chuckled. “She”—she pointed to me but kept her glare locked on him—“is the best thing that’s happened to you, and you're doing nothing about it.”

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