Better When He's Bold
Page 83
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
He whispered a soft good-bye and told me he would be back as soon as he could. He also reminded me that Booker, in all his hulking and threatening-ness, would be right outside my door, so I should rest easy and not worry about anyone getting to me while I couldn’t move. That, of course, was easier said than done.
He was gone and my sister replaced him. I forced a wincing smile for her but couldn’t pull my heavy eyelids back open. I tugged on her hand when she picked mine up and demanded, “How bad is my hair—really?”
Her quick intake of breath was all the answer I needed. I hoped when Race finally did unearth my stalker I got a minute alone with whoever it was and some scissors. Payback was a bitch.
Chapter 16
Race
I WAS GETTING FRUSTRATED, and as a result I was getting careless. It was Saturday night; I was tired and I was sick of no one having any of the answers I needed. I was pissed off that Booker had been the one to take Brysen to the location I had secured for her and Karsen. The doctors at the hospital had kept her under observation for three full days, but she was out of the danger zone now, and the only lasting effects of the fall were a dull headache and a terrible haircut. I wanted to be with her, but between fight night happening on Friday and the burning need to find whoever it was that was terrorizing her, all I had managed was a few quick visits and a few rushed phone calls. It made me feel like an asshole, but her safety was more important to me than anything else. I should be the one taking her home from the hospital. I should be the one guiding her to safety—not Booker. It sucked that I had other things I had to take care of. So here I was, back at a university party. This time, Bax was with me, and this time, I was a hundred times more dangerous because I wasn’t here to get paid. I was here for information.
I was on the back deck, the same back deck I had dragged Brysen across what felt like a lifetime ago. The back door had been fixed, but these college kids obviously hadn’t gotten any smarter. The one I picked to shake down was friends with the frat guy who had pulled the gun on me and subsequently ended up with a broken neck. When I hauled his drunken, struggling ass through the party crowd to somewhere that was more secluded, he had made a big production of calling me names, telling me he didn’t owe me shit, and trying to posture like he was some kind of big shot. The moron had already seen what happened when I got a gun pulled on me, and like his friend, he was too young and arrogant to have any kind of redeeming qualities as far as I could tell. When he took a sloppy swing at me, my paper-thin patience shredded.
Now I had the frat guy on his back with my knee firmly planted in the center of his chest. I had my forearm braced across his throat while he clawed at me with frantic fingers. His cheeks were billowing in and out as he struggled for air, but I refused to lessen my choke hold. His eyes were bugged out in his face and his skin was turning a sickly shade of blue, but I had no intention of letting him up.
“If he passes out he won’t be able to tell you anything.”
Bax sounded bored but he was right, so I lifted up my arm and balled up a fist. I cranked the college guy in the mouth with a sickening thud that immediately had his lips splitting in half and rivers of bright red blood coating his teeth and his chin. I made sure my knee ground as hard as it could into his breastbone as I climbed to my feet. The guy grunted and spit out a mouthful of blood.
“What do you want, Hartman? I don’t owe you any fucking money.”
He hoisted himself up on his elbows and glared at me from his prone position. I looked over at Bax, when his phone started to ring. He pulled it out of the pocket of his hoodie and lifted a dark eyebrow.
“Titus.”
I nodded as he took a few steps away to answer the call from his brother.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered down at my prey.
“You know Brysen Carter?”
Another mouthful of blood got coughed up and spit out. “Sure. She’s a babe, but she doesn’t party much and doesn’t come across as very friendly, so no one really messes around with her.”
“Someone shoved her down the stairs while she was going to class a few days ago. Who would want to do that to her?”
He groaned and levered himself up into a sitting position. “Fuck if I know. Like I said, she keeps to herself, she comes across as kind of a bitch, in all honesty. Maybe she pissed the wrong guy off.”
I narrowed my eyes even further. “What guy?”
“What’s it matter to you anyway? You screwing her?”
Seriously, this guy must have had a giant bowl of stupid for breakfast. I didn’t even think, I just leaned down a little and clocked him as hard as I could on the left side of his face. I felt my middle knuckle split open and the force of the blow had him yelling in surprise and listing off to the side. I shook my hand as I straightened back up and asked him again, “What guy?”
He was gone and my sister replaced him. I forced a wincing smile for her but couldn’t pull my heavy eyelids back open. I tugged on her hand when she picked mine up and demanded, “How bad is my hair—really?”
Her quick intake of breath was all the answer I needed. I hoped when Race finally did unearth my stalker I got a minute alone with whoever it was and some scissors. Payback was a bitch.
Chapter 16
Race
I WAS GETTING FRUSTRATED, and as a result I was getting careless. It was Saturday night; I was tired and I was sick of no one having any of the answers I needed. I was pissed off that Booker had been the one to take Brysen to the location I had secured for her and Karsen. The doctors at the hospital had kept her under observation for three full days, but she was out of the danger zone now, and the only lasting effects of the fall were a dull headache and a terrible haircut. I wanted to be with her, but between fight night happening on Friday and the burning need to find whoever it was that was terrorizing her, all I had managed was a few quick visits and a few rushed phone calls. It made me feel like an asshole, but her safety was more important to me than anything else. I should be the one taking her home from the hospital. I should be the one guiding her to safety—not Booker. It sucked that I had other things I had to take care of. So here I was, back at a university party. This time, Bax was with me, and this time, I was a hundred times more dangerous because I wasn’t here to get paid. I was here for information.
I was on the back deck, the same back deck I had dragged Brysen across what felt like a lifetime ago. The back door had been fixed, but these college kids obviously hadn’t gotten any smarter. The one I picked to shake down was friends with the frat guy who had pulled the gun on me and subsequently ended up with a broken neck. When I hauled his drunken, struggling ass through the party crowd to somewhere that was more secluded, he had made a big production of calling me names, telling me he didn’t owe me shit, and trying to posture like he was some kind of big shot. The moron had already seen what happened when I got a gun pulled on me, and like his friend, he was too young and arrogant to have any kind of redeeming qualities as far as I could tell. When he took a sloppy swing at me, my paper-thin patience shredded.
Now I had the frat guy on his back with my knee firmly planted in the center of his chest. I had my forearm braced across his throat while he clawed at me with frantic fingers. His cheeks were billowing in and out as he struggled for air, but I refused to lessen my choke hold. His eyes were bugged out in his face and his skin was turning a sickly shade of blue, but I had no intention of letting him up.
“If he passes out he won’t be able to tell you anything.”
Bax sounded bored but he was right, so I lifted up my arm and balled up a fist. I cranked the college guy in the mouth with a sickening thud that immediately had his lips splitting in half and rivers of bright red blood coating his teeth and his chin. I made sure my knee ground as hard as it could into his breastbone as I climbed to my feet. The guy grunted and spit out a mouthful of blood.
“What do you want, Hartman? I don’t owe you any fucking money.”
He hoisted himself up on his elbows and glared at me from his prone position. I looked over at Bax, when his phone started to ring. He pulled it out of the pocket of his hoodie and lifted a dark eyebrow.
“Titus.”
I nodded as he took a few steps away to answer the call from his brother.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered down at my prey.
“You know Brysen Carter?”
Another mouthful of blood got coughed up and spit out. “Sure. She’s a babe, but she doesn’t party much and doesn’t come across as very friendly, so no one really messes around with her.”
“Someone shoved her down the stairs while she was going to class a few days ago. Who would want to do that to her?”
He groaned and levered himself up into a sitting position. “Fuck if I know. Like I said, she keeps to herself, she comes across as kind of a bitch, in all honesty. Maybe she pissed the wrong guy off.”
I narrowed my eyes even further. “What guy?”
“What’s it matter to you anyway? You screwing her?”
Seriously, this guy must have had a giant bowl of stupid for breakfast. I didn’t even think, I just leaned down a little and clocked him as hard as I could on the left side of his face. I felt my middle knuckle split open and the force of the blow had him yelling in surprise and listing off to the side. I shook my hand as I straightened back up and asked him again, “What guy?”
