Page 17 of Bleeding Hearts

“Nope. Don’t care, either. You’re just a punk ass kid who needs a lesson in manners.” Setting his feet down, I release my grip on his shirt. Brushing it back in place, I lean forward. “Now get the fuck out of here before I march you back inside and make you apologize to my daughter.”

He takes a step back and runs his eyes over me, unimpressed. “Like I’d take advice from some blue-collar dude. You probably work for me. And if I find out you do, I’m firing your ass.”

“I don’t work for you.” I can’t help but laugh in his face. “And if I did, I’d quit after meeting you. But I doubt you have the authority to fire me. You’re just some spoiled ass rich kid who lives off daddy’s money.”

“What if I am? I’m still better than you, old man. Now move. I’ve got shit to do.” He steps around me and walks up to the shiny red sports car that beeps when he touches the handle. “This car cost more than I bet you make in a year.”

He’s not wrong. I bet it cost him—or should I say his father—over a hundred grand, if not more.

Why the hell would anyone spend that kind of money on a vehicle they can’t do more than drive on a nice sunny day?

Then it hits me.

I know that car. It was parked on the side of the road the day I pulled Bethany out of hers. Looks like the front bumper has been fixed.

My anger intensifies as he shifts gears and speeds away, driving recklessly through the neighborhood. It lessens when our neighbor, Detective Jenkins, steps out of his house just in time to catch him. Judging by his state of dress, it’s safe to assume he’s on duty. It’s later than his normal start time, meaning he likely got called in. He’s in his unmarked car in seconds. Lights immediately flashing as he pulls out, slowly at first, to make sure the path is clear. I bet he catches up with that asshole before that kid hits the main road. If I could be a fly on his windshield when he pulls him over. I bet the kid smarts off and gets his ass arrested before it’s all said and done.

“Wow. He’s special,” Kellie says from her spot behind the truck, watching the man speed away.

I do my best to hold back a laugh. “Just goes to show all the money in the world can’t make you smart.”

As the front door opens, three teenage boys spill out, their urgency to escape palpable in their hurried movements.

“Need some help?” Finn asks.

“Let us know where you want it placed, and we’ll take care of the rest.” Felix jumps into the back of the truck bed.

The third one stands there for a few seconds before deciding he’s in. “So, where, Mr. Archer?”

I lay an elbow on the railing of the truck bed and eye each one of them closely. “Tell me why that guy was here. What did he want? And whose are those?” I point to the two overpriced vehicles parked in front of Bethany’s home.

“The new SUV is Mom’s. We don’t know more.” Finn’s attempt to lie falls flat.

“Come on. Spill it. I know you two well enough to know that’s not true.”

Nicky, the third wheel, runs a hand over his head, then spills the beans. “I suppose I could mention that two other men areinside talking to Miss Rogan about that. Mom’s sitting in as a witness.”

“A witness to what, exactly?” This time, I make eye contact with Felix. “I know you know.”

“Fine. I might have found a way to get the records of the ah… jerk head who hit Mom. Learned this isn’t his first offense. Yet he had zero points on his license, and they were all buried deep. I found it after exploring a wormhole I shouldn’t have ventured into. That’s all I’m saying.” His cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “I might have sent the information to Mr. Stewart, the CEO of S&S manufacturing, hoping to entice someone to do the right thing.”

“That little prick is a Stewart?” I shake my head, feeling the frustration building inside me. The Stewarts own a lot of businesses in Savannah, meaning they aren’t here just to say I’m sorry. “Why did he storm out?”

Finn takes that question. “Because Mom is the bomb, and she didn’t let him intimidate her. She deals with punks like him daily. You know the ones who don’t plan on doing the work but still want the grade. They learn pretty fast that Dr. Rogan don’t play. If they slack off, she’ll flunk them. No exceptions. He got pissed when she asked what he learned from that day. I almost went in there and punched his teeth out when he called Mom a cu… the C word. I would’ve too, if Nicky hadn’t held me back.”

“He called her what?” It’s a good thing I didn’t know that when I had him by the shirt, he’d have been eating my fist instead of getting an earful.

Kellie speaks up. “He called her the C word. You know what that is, right? See you next time. That word.”

“I know the word.” I glare at her, hating how kids know shit way sooner than they used to. “How do you know the word?”

“Seriously, Dad? I’m in middle school. The boys at my school use that word more than they use the F bomb.” She rolls hereyes, unable to hide her irritation. “And yes, I know that one, too. Would you like a list of the words I know?”

“No. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t know or use any of them. Got it?”

Finn pulls Kellie closer, wrapping his arm around her neck playfully. “Parents are so lame. My mom thinks I still like those smiling face fruit snacks. I didn’t even like them when I was a kid. I traded them with Nicky for his Jello. Better to let your dad think that way, though, or he might lock you in your room and never let you out.”

Kellie grins at him with admiration. I hope it’s admiration and not something else. God help me if it’s more.

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