Page 133 of Average Joe

The world silenced to nothing but a deep buzz. My chest pounded, limbs trembled. Ginger grunted, trying to wiggle free, then yelped when I squeezed her too tight. Through the foreboding dread, I managed to duck behind the fence.

Too late.

“You said she wasn’t home.”

“Run, baby,” Joe yelled, voice low, commanding. Terrifying.

I ran. Straight toward the house, setting Ginger free somewhere between the rose garden and the back porch. I’d reached the kitchen when the crack of a gunshot knocked me to my knees.

Joe. Oh, God. Joe.

My foot caught in the hem of the tee when I tried to stand, and I stumbled into the cupboard, catching the edge before smacking my head on the sharp corner.

I reached for the phone, two fingers making contact when an arm hooked my waist. A low growl. The room spun, and my back slammed against the fridge, knocking the air from my lungs but spurring my fight.

I pushed and shoved, scratched and kicked, grunting and screaming until I was free of his grip.

Logan might’ve been speaking or shouting or trying to calm me, but I couldn’t make out a single word over the heavy thrumming in my ears.

“Shut up!” registered a blink before his fist met my temple.

The room went dark, then shimmied back into focus.

I swung in reflex, hitting his nose, and Logan’s head flew back. He cupped his face with both hands, releasing me, and screamed, “Ow! Fuck!”

Again, I ran, though my surroundings were fuzzy and my head hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Joe!” I screamed while heading toward the shed. I don’t know why. To hide? To find a weapon?

Rocks tore my feet, but I pushed forward. I spotted Alice’s hedge sheers propped against the bench at the same time gravel crunched behind me.

I dove for the handle, and with a mighty roar, swung around before looking and hit Joe in the shoulder.

“Fuuuuck!” He stumbled to the side, gripping his arm, then tripped over his feet and landed on his ass.

That’s when I spotted Logan, barreling my way, gun aimed, eyes black as insanity, yelling, “You left me! You left me!”

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. My only thought wasno,not yet. Breathless and nauseous, I gripped the handle of the sheers, bracing for a fight because I wasn’t ready to go. I hadn’t loved Joe long enough, and I would kill Logan before letting him take me away from my boys.

Joe powered to his feet and rushed toward the crazy man. Before he made contact, the toe of Logan’s shoe caught in the hole Ginger had dug, and he went down, his eyes going wide, the gun flying through the air. His head hit the corner of the cement bench with a sickening thud, and he fell limp.

Joe

Logan Shaw’s blood had washed away long ago, but I continued to cleanse the ground with the cold spray. Not even the cool water could soothe the rage that bubbled and burned under my skin. Alice’s sacred garden had once again been desecrated. I’d failed to protect Marley from the cuts and bruises marring her skin. She could have been killed in the same spot I’d found Alice beaten half to death all those years ago. Fury like I’d never known vibrated my core, and suddenly, I hated every fucking petal and thorn on every fucking stem of every god forsaken bush.

More so, I hated that cold gray bench.

I’d made a terrible error in judgment, vowing to keep Alice’s rose garden alive. She’d tended to her garden with fervor, but had they ever made her truly happy, the thorny reminders of Bill’s betrayals?

Time to start my own damn garden. Fuck that. A good excavation was in order. Maybe I’d build an outdoor kitchen. Yeah. Good plan. I shut off the water, coiled the hose, and headed to the shed. The one tool I needed was nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” came Marley’s sweet voice. “You okay?”

I couldn’t meet her gaze, the bruise near her left eye a reminder of how I’d failed my girl. “Fine. Just cleaning up this mess. You don’t happen to have a sledgehammer, do ya?”

“Of course I do, but why?”

“Demolition day.” I gestured to the bench, then the roses.

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