Page 28 of Loving Trent
Can you hold on to Harley for a little bit? Something came up, and I’ve got to handle it.
Leon
Yeah. Sadie loves having someone besides us to play with. You need help?
Me
Not yet. I’ll let you know.
After forty minutes, the ambulance pulls into a hospital parking lot. All the guys look fine to me. I mean, yeah, from my vantage point, a few feet away, I can see broken noses, busted lips, and eyes swelling shut, but they are still walking and breathing. That needs to change and change fast. Cracking the window, I stretch my legs out, lean the seat back a little, and settle in for however long I need to. Two hours later, the front doors slid open, and the five guys walked out. Unlike the hospital in Cape, there are no woods surrounding this one, so I have to wait. Night is fast approaching, but I have a plan in place. Since no one drove here, I assume someone is coming to get these assholes.
None of them pay me any attention as they all light up a cigarette. Leaning back against the hood of the truck with my arms crossed, I watch a van pull into the parking lot. Once the men who have no idea what they started get inside, I slip back into the tuck.
The Hills might have thought they handled this, but I’m about to show them just how lacking they are when it comes to protecting my man. Time to let the beast out of his cage once again.
My plan is simple and one I’m going to enjoy. Not only will I get to bloody each and every one of them for hurting Shawn, I also get to put a little fear into them as well. The thing about the bootheel of Missouri is that it’s full of long stretches of highway with nothing surrounding it except farmland. The houses are few and far between the small towns. Once outsidethe town limits, my foot presses on the gas pedal until there isn’t but maybe an inch between my front bumper and their back one. After doing this a dozen times, my hand drops to the light control, and I start blinding the driver with my bright lights.
Soon, the driver gets pissed and starts to slam on his brakes, only to let up as quickly. As I knew this would happen, I let my foot rest on the brake pedal until the very last second. Finally, I punch the gas, speeding out around them. Grinning like the cat who ate the bird, I return the favor and start brake checking them. A dark laugh falls from my lips as hands fly out of the windows, middle fingers held high. Oh, they’re anger and I’m loving every second of it. They try to pass me, but I push the truck faster, knowing the van can't beat me.
“Play time is up,” I whisper to no one as I slam on the brakes and take an unexpected turn onto a dirt lane county road. “Come find me.” My cheeks hurt from the grin that spreads when I watch the van miss the road but pull a U-Turn. “That’s right, fall into my trap.”
I speed up, take the curve ahead, and then stop in the middle of the road. Dust kicks up into the air around me. While the adrenaline coursing through me causes my heart rate to spike, that’s the only thing. All the twitching of my muscles, the tightness of my skin, and the itchiness are gone. I’m calm and ready to throw down. The radio, which is turned low, finally pulls my attention as drums come through the speaker and the singer yells, “Let’s do this.” Reaching over, I turn the volume all the way up as “War” by Sick Puppies plays.
The speakers vibrate with the bass, and I let it fuel my rage. Looking out the window, the headlight from the van is approaching the turn. Grabbing the hoodie I found in the backseat, I pull it over my white shirt before stepping out of the truck. Leaving the truck open so I have a soundtrack while I enjoy myself. I cross my arms and wait for my prey. The vancomes around the corner fast. Too fast. The driver almost loses control but quickly recovers. My muscles are drawn tight, my heart is racing, but my mind is silent. It’s going to be six against one, but I can hold my own.
The image of Shawn sitting on the ground looking small. His green eyes, full of tears and fear. The blood running down his handsome face. All of it fuels my anger, and I use it. The song switches, and there's no way to keep the sick smile off my face. It’s perfect. “Street fight” by Adam Jensen is going to make this epic.
“What the fuck is your problem?” The first guy out of the van yells. His nose is clearly broken, which means that he was one of the people who touched Shawn.
“You are.” Unlike him, my tone suggests that nothing is wrong with me. It’s flat and emotionless.
One by one, the other five guys step out and stand behind the first one as if he is their precious leader. I’m going to save him for last. “I don’t even know you, but by the time we beat your ass, you will know me.” The threat feels like feathers brushing against my skin. They might get a couple of hits in, but I’ll be the one walking away.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. The only people who are going to get their assess beat are whoever put their hands on what belongs to me.” Once again, I’m assaulted with the image of Shawn, and I can’t keep the growl inside my chest.
The leader throws his head back and laughs. “God, what does that faggot have a golden dick? The only reason Boe got away with his shit is because he brought the Hills, but you,” he points at me. “You’re all alone.”
“I don’t need anyone here to help me.”
Time speeds up as they all charge me like I’m a red flag, and they’re pissed-off bulls. It’s all a blur of fists and feet coming. I can’t tell who I hit, but they start to fall to the ground one byone. A well-aimed fist to one guy’s ribs. A kick to the outside of another’s knee. Trusted throat punch to number three. Number four gets a swift kick to the temple. Asshole five got a hard kick to their stomach. Which leaves me with Mr. Leader himself. He waited like the coward he is while the other guys tried to take me on. All I see is red as I throw myself at him, and all I feel is his skin between my hands. I punch and kick him anywhere I can. Once the rage clears, the guy is on the ground, and I’m straddling him. His lip is busted, and blood is pouring out of his nose. His breathing is labored, and my hands are wrapped around his throat.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t snap your fucking neck.” I’m breathing heavily, I taste blood, and when I run my tongue over my lip, it stings. My jaw is sore, but I know it isn’t broken, seeing how I’m talking. I’m going to be bruised from where the other guy’s fist hit me, but I’m not worried about that.
The guy beneath me opens his mouth and closes it. His face grows redder the longer I squeeze his neck. I let off just a little, allowing him a small hit of air. “Please,” he begs.
“Did he beg you to stop? Did he look at you in fear like you’re looking at me?”
Jackass nods his head, and I cut his air off again. I should end this fucker’s life right now. But I don’t. I release him, stand to my full height, and say, “Let this serve as a reminder to you and your friends that if you ever touch another person, I will find you. Next time, I won’t let you walk away. Especially if it’s him again.” Then I pull back and kick him in his head. I raise my foot and bring it down on both of his arms. The sound of his bones snapping is like a hit of drugs to my system.
Before returning to the truck, I pull out my blade from where it’s always attached to my ankle and sink it into all four tires. Let them figure out another way back to town.
Parking on the street, I cut the truck off, shuck off the blood-stained hoodie, and walk the remainder of the way to Boe’s family home. The ranch house sits in a small clearing of trees, which offer the perfect place for me to sit and watch the house. I find a spot, lower myself to the ground, and pull my phone out. Making sure to turn the brightness down, I call Leon first. “Hey, everything okay?” Jenna asks when she answers.
“Yeah, I’m good. Can I talk to Harley?” I watch someone walk across the only room with the light on, and I wonder if it’s Shawn. I want to go up to the door and demand to see him, but I can’t.
“Sure. Hold on,” Jenna says. “Hey Harley, it’s Trent.”
“Where are you?” Harley's question comes out quickly, and her voice is raised. She’s worried, and disappointment sinks heavily in my gut. I don’t want to worry her.
