Page 115 of The Way We Win

Pulling the trigger, I hold the gun as it discharges repeatedly. He falls to the floor with a loud crash, and after three shots, my gun jams.

“Fuck!” A roar breaks from my chest.

He makes a noise like a laugh, and I charge across the floor, falling to my knees where he lies and gripping him by the front of the shirt as I slam my fist into his face again and again.

My body is tight. Rage is pushing me, driving me. I see Allie cowering and afraid. I see Austin’s face crumple as he cries. I see myself driving in the night, not knowing if she’s alive or dead.

Pulling back, I hit him harder until my fist is slick with hisblood. I want to kill him with my bare hands. He gurgles, and someone massive grabs my arm on the back swing.

“Jack!” A voice I know holds me. “It’s over, Jack. Stop. He’s done. He can’t do any more.”

It’s Garrett. He’s holding me around both arms, but even my massive offensive lineman little brother can’t contain my rage. Rip makes another noise, and I try to hit him again.

Every exhale is a feral animal noise, but Garret has me tight.

“It’s okay, brother.” He holds on. “You can stop now. It’s over.”

27

Allie

The hum of insects rises from the ground, growing louder as it reaches the air, and the metal chains holding the back porch swing squeak softly as it moves gently, back and forth.

On the light pink horizon, the sun is a neon-yellow ball sliced into perfect quarters by thin lavender clouds. The water is periwinkle blue with shades of purple haze drifting above it.

I watch a flock of seagulls fly into the pale orange sky, fluttering their wings and dipping their beaks in the rippling waters.

It’s a cool Sunday morning. My feet are up, and I’m wrapped in a crocheted blanket holding a mug of coffee. Jack’s strong arms surround me, and I rest my head against his chest as he twirls a lock of my hair between his fingers.

I hold his hand. His knuckles are swollen and scarred from where he tried to kill my ex with them. I couldn’t love him more if I tried.

Lifting my chin, I look up at him. His blue eyes are on the water. His cheeks are dusted in dark brown scruff, and the rising sun bathes his skin in attractive yellow light.

The set of his jaw is as focused as always, determined, daring.He’s my hero. He saved me, and now I’m here in his house after sleeping in his bed all night safe in his arms.

“How’s the wound?” My voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the serenity of this moment.

He blinks down at me, his eyes sliding over my face, from my forehead down my nose to my lips. His expression softens, and he leans forward inhaling the top of my head.

“I’ll be fine.” His voice shimmers in my veins. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Good.” I tuck my chin, nestling into his arms again. “It’s all good now.”

Everything happened with Rip so quickly, my head’s still spinning. I read once that most criminals are not masterminds, and after everything that happened these last few days, I’m convinced it’s true.

The only excuse I can make for my idiot ex is he never expected I’d be best friends with the younger sister of a sheriff who had access to all his information and knew exactly where he lived.

He counted on me being the same dumb girl who fell for his charming lies all those years ago in New Orleans. He thought he could bully me into helping him, but even if it hadn’t been for Garrett and Jack, I’d never have helped him.

The worst part is my friends being hurt.

Garret was wearing a Kevlar vest, which protected him from being killed. He was winded by the shot, and he said he’ll have a nasty bruise. But he wasn’t critically injured.

Jack caught a bullet to the shoulder. It went straight through, which the urgent care doctor said was a good thing. It didn’t hit any major nerves, and he should have a full recovery.

I still blink back tears when I see the bandages and his swollen, damaged knuckles.

My shoulder was strained from jumping out of bed with my hand tied to the frame, but it’s the least of my concerns.

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