Page 96 of Bad Boy
We race past the incapacitated assholes. There’s a clear path to make our escape. My breath saws in and out, my thoughts a jumbled mess. The only thing I can focus on is getting Lincout.
Just before we reach the exit, two more goons step into view. I skid to a halt, Linc bumping into me from behind and clutching onto my hoodie.
“Back to back,” I shout, and he listens, remembering some of the basics from his defense lessons with Otto. We slowly turn in a circle. Bloody-nose Carl, Tracksuit, and the two new slimy douchebags surround us.
I can’t figure a way out.
My heart pounds wildly in my chest, banging against my ribcage.
“We can’t take them all, Preppy,” I whisper so only he can hear. “I’m going to lunge for the skinny prick in blue. Create a distraction. And you’re going to run.”
“Like hell I am, Rem!” He lowers his voice, whispering urgently. “I’m not leavin’ you. Don’t ask me to.” His voice cracks, full of anguish, and I swear it crumbles another piece of the wall surrounding my heart. And I feel so fucking vulnerable right now. So fuckingraw.
Our choice is made for us when one of the new guys lunges for Lincoln. I intercept him, smashing my fist into his temple and knocking him out cold.
“Do it!Go, Linc, go!”
He takes off down the street, and I breathe a sigh of relief just as someone grabs ahold of me from behind.
I don’t even care what happens to me as long as Linc gets away.
We wrestle for what feels like hours until I finally get him into a headlock. This asshole’s had training, unlike his friends, who look like the walking dead ambling toward us—bloody and broken. He slips out of the hold easily and shoves me away.
I stumble for a moment, faking him out and crouching like I fell. He reaches for me, but I spin around and punch him twice in the face with a one-two combo. He falls to the ground in a crumpled heap, and I take the opportunity to race down the dark alleyway to my freedom. Andfuck, this is bringing up way too many unpleasant memories.
The other three assholes are long gone. They must have slipped away during our scuffle. I saw Lincoln get away, but my mind spirals into thewhat-ifs.
I need to find him.Now.
The street lights are conveniently burnt out, and the world around me is eerie as I sprint down the sidewalk looking for Linc. I slip my phone out of my pocket, my heart beating a nervous staccato inside my chest. I nearly fumble it when I see the message on my screen. From my fucking scumbag prick of adad.
Gotcha!
That sonofabitch mother fucker!
I’m going to commit patricide when I find him.
That’s it.
I’m going to fucking jail.
For real, this time.
Before I can even click on Preppy’s name, I hear grunts and shouts. I bolt toward the commotion, running down another fucking alleyway before slamming into a chain link fence. The jolt is startling, snapping me back to that moment in Detroit before I got arrested. I blink rapidly and shake my head.
“Lincoln!” I shout. The word is a desperate plea as I watch Carl and the other new guy pin him to the wall, a small trail of blood trickling from his nose.
His scared eyes dart to mine, silently pleading for help. Rage and fear battle inside me, slicing me deep with their harsh truths.
He’s hurt again. Because of me.
Because of my fucking scumbag father.
“Watch me fuck up your little boyfriend,” Carl sneers.
He pulls his fist back, slamming it into Linc’s stomach, causing him to lurch forward with a pained grunt. They let him go, and he falls to the cold cement, curling in on himself.
I go bat-shit. Ape-shit. Horse-shit.All the shits.
