Page 113 of Otto: The Hawthornes

“You sure as shit were,” the man who’d helped me argued.

“You stopped for her?” Otto asked.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Hulk.”

“No way his parents named him that,” I whispered to myself, making the men chuckle.

“It’s Cameron,” the man clarified. “Nice to meet you, Esther.”

I jerked as something crashed behind me and spun to face the house.

“We have to call the fire department,” I gasped, watching as Otto’s brother Micky used the garden hose to spray water through the window.

“Can’t,” Will said simply, glancing toward the attackers’ car.

Bile rose in my throat as I realized that a couple of the Aces were putting bodies into the trunk.

“We—I—” I stuttered to a stop.

“They were tryin’ to burn down our house while we were inside,” Otto reminded me, pulling me back against him. “Forget them.”

“I knew him,” I replied faintly, remembering the look on Japeth’s face as I’d raced past him. “He went to my church.”

“We know,” Will replied.

I didn’t turn around when someone drove the car off our property, just watched as Micky tried to fight what looked like a losing battle. It wasn’t until Rumi came stumbling around the side of the house that I realized he’d been fighting the fire from inside the house.

“Someone’s gonna have to switch with me,” he croaked, coughing. “I need a minute.”

Otto left me with his uncle as he ran around the house to take Rumi’s place.

A few minutes later, Heather arrived.

“Jesus Christ,” she snapped, jogging toward me. “What happened to your face?”

“Guessin’ you saw the Mustang in the ditch?” Will asked with a grunt.

“You crashed the Mustang?”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t even pretend like I cared. Not when two men had come to hurt us and my husband of a week had killed them and now our house was burning down. After all that I’d been through in the last four months, I would’ve thought that I’d be ready for anything, but the sad reality was that I felt like I was drowning.

“How did you get here when your rig’s—” Will pointed to where Heather’s SUV had been moved into the grass.

“Titus drove me,” Heather replied.

That’s when I saw Otto’s little brother, hanging back from the group, absolutely devastated.

“Hey Titus,” I called. I wanted to smile at him, but I was pretty sure that it came out like more of a grimace. He walked toward me, his steps dragging through the gravel.

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” he rasped, close to tears. “I fucked up.”

“You didn’t throw a bomb through the window,” I pointed out reasonably as I grabbed his hand.

“I brought Noel here,” he replied, watching as smoke billowed out the front window.

“They could’ve found us a different way,” I argued, squeezing his hand.

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