Page 211 of Their Arrangement

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“You looking for her?”

He didn’t respond.

So I hit him.

Once.

Straight to the gut. He folded, gasped. Still didn’t fight.

“W-what’s the big deal?” he coughed. “She’s beautiful. I wanted to know where she parks.”

My vision went white.

“Say that again.”

“She’s hot, man. You’re not the only one who wants a piece of that?—”

I didn’t hear the rest.

Because I hit him again.

And again.

And again.

Until he dropped. Until the notebook hit the pavement. Until my knuckles split. Until the red on my hands wasn’t just his.

I winced hard.

He tried to crawl.

I grabbed the back of his jacket and dragged him behind the parked car, out of view.

“You think you can hunt her like she’s prey?” I snarled. “You think you can stalk her and walk away?”

He spat blood.

Didn’t speak.

So I kicked him.

Hard.

“Look at me.”

He did.

Barely.

One eye swollen shut already.

“She’s notyoursto watch.”

He laughed—weak, wet.

“You think she’s yours?”

I crouched low. Got close enough that he could smell the sweat on my collar.

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