Page 25 of Crashed

Distantly, the pain in his side flared a red-hot warning.

On the nearby rocks, one of the lounging seals barked. Travis tried to decide if it was mockery, reproach or approval as he wrenched at the man’s wrist. The bigger guy jerked as he tried to twist out of the hold. He failed and ended up whining in pain. Travis put his bare foot on the guy’s shoulder. “Stop moving. You’re making it worse.”

“Get the fuck off my dad!” Brant rushed toward him.

Travis sidestepped and shifted, putting the kid’s father between them as a barrier. Brant was moving too fast, that gangly form working against him and he tripped over his dad’s legs and his own feet to go sprawling, the air knocked out of him. He lay there, flat on his belly for a second, then rolled over and gaped at Travis.

“Stay down,” Travis advised. Since he didn’t necessarily trust the kid to listen, he shifted his stance so he could keep a closer eye on him.

Face red-hot with humiliation and anger, Brant slowly sat up, his knees bloody and red under his long, baggy shirts and his chin skinned, face dirty from his fall.

But he stayed on his ass.

To the struggling adult, Travis asked, “What’s your name?”

“Fuck you.”

“No wonder you’re so pissed off at the world. If my mama named me that, I’d be angry, too.” Behind him, the other two kids snickered. “Come on. Name? It’s awkward having a serious conversation with anybody when you don’t know their name.”

“It’s Lloyd,” the older kid from behind me said. “Lloyd Brimley.”

“Thanks, kid. Okay, Lloyd, I’m going to let you up in a minute here. You’re going to take your kid and walk on back to your place, then have a talk with him about picking fights with kids half his size. You should probably tell him that it’s a dick move, trying to push around a little girl who probably isn’t any older than five or six. Personally, if it was me, I’d talk to him about being a bigoted brat, too, but he probably learned it from you so I’m not going to hold my breath there.”

Lloyd started to struggle again, only to stop and swear in a pained voice as Travis added more pressure to his hold. “You keep that up, my friend, and you’ll dislocate your shoulder. I can tell you from personal experience that it hurts like a son of a bitch.”

“Let me go, you stupid fuck, and don’t tell me what to do with my own kid.”

Travis blew out a breath. “Guess we’re not going to be able to solve this politely. Alright, Lloyd. I’m going to let you up but if you come at me again, you’re going to piss me off.”

The sound of a car’s engine approaching came to him but he kept his attention on Lloyd. “You understand, pal?”

“I’m not yourpal, fucker. But, yeah. I understand.”

Travis let go. He promptly moved back, taking care to nudge the two kids who’d been behind him farther away, clear from danger in case Lloyd decided he hadn’t understood after all. He made sure they were clear from Brant, too, although the kid was limping toward his father already.

Lloyd shoved upright, his face a furious shade caught between red and purple. A vein throbbed in his temple as he glared at Travis before looking around, gaze finally landing on Brant. The kid swiped the blood from his chin and sheepishly looked away.

“Did you touch my kid?” Lloyd snarled.

“No. He tripped over his own feet and you after he tried to rush me. That was a dumbass move to begin with, so I discouraged it by moving out of his way. And it’s all been recorded—just like the incident here.” The car he’d heard went quiet. Judging by how close it was, he suspected Aaron and Brooklyn’s mother had arrived.

Travis huffed out a breath just as Aaron groaned. “Fuck, we’re so busted.”

Lloyd still glared at Travis. “I ought to sue your ass. I’m calling the fucking cops and having you arrested for assaulting a minor.”

“Iam gonna call the fucking cops becauseyouare a d-hole!” Brooklyn announced, planting herself at Travis’s side.

A d-hole?

“Ah ... Brooklyn, I’ll take care of this,” he said, stroking a hand down soft, silky hair that was a soft ash blonde with streaks of paler gold. He could feel her looking up at him but he didn’t take his eyes off Lloyd.

“Stay out of this,” Lloyd snapped, glaring at the girl. “And if you don’t want Brant bugging you, stay away from him, kid. And stop cussing so much.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” She rushed forward, quicker than Travis could react—in his defense, he just wasn’t expecting her to be a miniature Valkyrie. In what world did little girls decide to take on grown-ass men who acted like schoolyard bullies?

In this one, apparently. She kicked Lloyd in the ankle.

And that was when Travis saw that she had topped off her pretty princess dress with a pair of princess shoes that had a pointy toe. Not quite high-heel adult pointy-toe, but still, pointy enough that if a kid managed to kick a bony prominence, like an ankle, in just the right place, it would hurt.

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