Page 306 of Hell Hath No Fury
Lifting his head, Javier glared at me from his bent over position as he reached into his back pocket.
“I bet you don’t know about this,” he hissed, brandishing a knife. My veins filled with ice, the wicked-looking blade flashing in the afternoon sun, as I pressed myself back against the shop window in an attempt to get as far away from the maniac in front of me as possible. “I should cut out your fuckin’ tongue,” he taunted, holding the weapon between us. “Maybe then you’d finally be quiet.”
I swallowed, unwilling to take my eyes off the knife for a second, as I tensed my sweaty fingers around the neck of the bottle I still held.
It was a split-second decision; I knew I needed to wait for him to move first, to get close enough to me so that I could have a chance.
I’d only get one.
I watched him, the way he rocked on the balls of his feet, right to left and back again, dancing and lunging at me, trying to make me flinch, but I was beyond reactions. Beyond fear.
When he finally came for me, I was ready. Javier went to one side, his arm swinging out and then back toward me in a low arc, and at the same time, I swung up, the heavy whiskey bottlein my hand colliding solidly with the side of is skull, the noise of shattering glass lost under the sound of my scream.
CHAPTER TEN
Asher
Chaos.
That’s what I found when I opened the door.
I didn’t know how, in the scant few minutes since Betty had headed out the door, things could have devolved into… whatever the hell seemed to be happening, but clearly, it had.
Betty was turned away from me, one arm on the window next to her apartment door, the other clutching what appeared to be the neck of a broken bottle.
The bottle I had just given her, apparently.
Gramps would be pissed to see his best single malt in a puddle on the sidewalk, but that wasn’t my prime concern at the moment.
No, that would have been the man on his knees, surrounded by the shards of broken glass, one hand pressed to his temple, blood leaking between his fingers in a slow trickle.
“Betty?” I called, and she jumped, dropping the broken bottle with a clatter and standing up straight, her back still to me.
“I’m good,” she replied, but her voice sounded strange, muted and tired, so different from the bright, teasing way she had spoken to me only minutes before.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked, turning to the guy who was shakily climbing to his feet. He looked at me, then at Easton, who was standing beside me but, rather than answer, the guy glared at us, his whiskey-soaked face pulled into an angry snarl.
“You’re dead, bitch,” he spat at Betty, before he started to run, darting across the street and drawing a long honk from a passing car as he weaved through traffic unsteadily.
My first instinct was to chase him; the guy was clearly bad news, if his horrible words and the bloody gash on his head were any indication. I knew Betty was a bit feisty, but I didn’t think she was the type to just go around braining guys with perfectly good whiskey bottles for no reason. So, I figured he’d done something pretty shitty if she’d felt that hitting him was her only option.
And the thought of some random jackoff being shitty to Betty really pissed me off.
I took a few steps toward where the guy was running, his skinny form now headed toward the end of the block, but Easton’s voice pulled me up short.
“Holy fuck.”
Spinning around, I finally saw what he had, and my anger ratcheted up even more.
Because there was Betty, leaned against the window, her face covered in blood.
“What the hell did he do to you?” I questioned, stepping closer, freezing when she flinched away from me. Holding my hands up in supplication, I slowed my movements, not wanting her to be wary of me.
“It’s alright, darlin’,” Easton soothed, his voice low and steady, the way I imagined he spoke to the nervous horses on the ranch. “We ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
“I know,” she insisted, but her eyes were still wide. Running the back of her hand under her nose, Betty hissed when she saw her fingers come away bloody.
“Why don’t you come inside?” I suggested. “I’ll help you clean up a bit.”
