Page 73 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
“That would be you, Buck, not me. I gave a shit for a long time and about a lot of people, but I stopped giving any shits about you when you started terrorizing me. I honestly don’t care if you go back to prison, I just don’t want my mother to get hurt because of you. Maybe she doesn’t care about me anymore, but I still fucking care about her.”
Buck snorted, puffing beer-scented breath into his face. “You’re a piece of work. I never wanted you in my life, but there you were. The golden boy, the great student, while I was always the fuckup. Then you finally left and I still couldn’t get any fucking peace, because you were still there.”
“What are you talking about?” Hugo was turned around by this entire conversation, and all he really wanted to do was get on the scooter and go home. Get away from this confusing mess. “All I ever wanted was for you to ignore me. Pretend I didn’t exist. You’re the one who kept coming after me.”
“Because you were always fuckingthere.” He dropped the remains of the six-pack; glass clinked in the gravel but nothing burst or broke. “Even after you left, it wasHugo this, andHugo that. Couldn’t never see what was so special about your queer ass, and now you’ve got Brand Woods sticking up for you? You take it up the ass for his protection, little brother?”
“Excuse me?” First Buck was mad because Hugo got better grades than him, and now he was accusing Hugo of buying Brand’s protection with sex? What the fuck? Then again, he had no idea how much Buck had had to drink already tonight. “Buck, just leave it and go home before you get arrested for disorderly conduct or something. Go home.”
“Not until I find out what makes you so fucking special.”
Before Hugo could figure that out, Buck grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled Hugo against his chest. Hugo couldn’t do anything to stop the wet mouth that slammed down on his, or to dislodge the bigger, more muscular man who clung to him like a life raft. Hugo struggled, hating the tongue licking around his lips, the taste of beer, and the sour smell of Buck himself. A familiar smell that sent him right back to his sixteen-year-old self, terrified of the next punch, slap, or kick. Only this time, Hugo was ready to fight.
He drove his knee up but had a bad angle, so he only skimmed the inside of Buck’s thigh. “What?” Buck snarled. “You’ll give it up for Woods but not me? We ain’t related.”
Close enough. Hugo tried to dodge, but Buck caught his shoulder and shoved him back-first against the side of the nearest pickup and tried to kiss him again. This time, Hugo bit Buck’s lower lip. Buck yelled and pushed him so hard Hugo’s head cracked off the truck’s cab, and his ass hit the asphalt. Pain jolted up and down his spine from his head and his butt.
Surely someone had heard the fight by now. Where was everyone?
Buck grabbed a beer bottle from his six-pack and smashed it against the fender of the truck, letting glass and beer fly. He held the jagged edges of the bottle close to Hugo’s face, and Hugo sucked in a terrified breath. One slice to his carotid and Hugo was dead. He’d seen Buck drunk and pissed before, but this was something brand-new, and it terrified him to his bones.“Please, don’t,” Hugo said.
“Don’t what? Cut your fucking throat? You never should’ve come back to Texas, brother. Couldn’t even get you sent to fucking jail to show your mom you aren’t the golden boy, because here you are.”
What the what? Is Buck admitting to stealing Elmer’s coins and planting them in the trailer?
“Let me go, Buck,” Hugo said, his voice steadier than he expected. “You’re drunk and don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing. And if you know what’s best for you, you’ll get up and get your ass in my truck.”
“Not a chance.” If Hugo got into that truck, he’d be dead by sunrise, of that he had no doubt. Someone had to leave the Roost sometime soon. Someone had to see them like this, to take notice and give a damn. All Hugo had to do was stall for a little while longer. “I don’t know why you hate me, but I never did anything to you. My own mother chose you over me.”
“She chose my dad, and that motherfucker can rot in hell, too. He left me out to dry with that assault conviction.”
“You did it, you idiot, and you deserved to serve your time, not just for assaulting that deputy but also your girlfriend.”
Buck held that broken bottle closer to his neck, and okay, maybe goading the guy with the weapon was a stupid idea, but Hugo was inching beyond the border between reason and insanity. He was angry, scared, and close to panicked, and those were not a great combination. “You don’t know shit,” Buck snarled.
“I know I take responsibility for my fuckups. Do you?”
Buck’s hand drew back and Hugo saw his own death in Buck’s drunk, angry eyes. Light flashed off the jagged edges of that bottle. Then Buck went flying as another body slammed into him, and two men wrestled for control of the bottle. Hugo gaped at them long enough to recognize Brand as the person struggling with Buck. They flailed in the gravel parking lot, Buck attempting to attack while Brand kept that sharp bottle at bay with all the strength he had.
“We need help!” Hugo shouted, unsure what else to do. He scrambled to his feet, still screaming for help. A car door slammed somewhere. Buck rolled so Brand was on his back, and Hugo cast about for a weapon. Anything to get Buck off Brand. Nothing except a fist full of gravel and that wouldn’t help him.
Brand hollered. A spurt of red shot over the gravel and hit Hugo’s shoes.
No.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sight of Brand’s blood on his shoes made something primal flare to life inside Hugo. The pained whimper Brand released lit the fuse and fury exploded deep inside Hugo. He flung himself at Buck and tackled the bigger man to the ground. They went rolling. Hugo waited for something sharp to slice his skin, but the only thing that hurt were rocks in tender places. Somehow, he ended up on top and swung with everything he had. His fist smashed into Buck’s face. The blow jarred up Hugo’s arm and shoulder but he’d never felt a sweeter pain in his life. To finally punch the son of a bitch.
He swung again, splitting at least one of his own knuckles on Buck’s teeth, then Buck went limp beneath him. Hugo stared down, kneeling over Buck’s still form. Blood poured from Buck’s nose and his eyes were closed. Hands empty. No bottle.
“What the hell?” a stranger’s voice yelled. Male. Nearby.
Hugo looked to his right and his heart skipped with terror. Brand lay flat on his back, staring up at the sky, both hands in a half-clutch near his abdomen without actually touching. And protruding from his gut was the neck of the beer bottle.
“No. No!” Hugo lunged for Brand, his brain spinning far beyond reasonable comprehension. He was vaguely aware of someone else there, someone not a threat, who was talking on his phone. Hopefully 911, because Hugo couldn’t think to react. Couldn’t do anything except grab one of Brand’s flailing hands and squeeze it tight. “Hey, you’re okay. Brand? Look at me, you’re fine.”
