Jagged Edge

“You little shit, what are you doing here?” The brickhouse advances on me and grabs my arm, his face like a storm cloud. “What game are you playing?”

I jerk my arm but almost dislocate my shoulder and don’t manage to break his hold. “Just passing by.”

“Bullshit.”

Hey, it was worth a try.

I prepare to kick at the guy’s knee and start working my way to Raine. I’ve got some street moves Adam taught me, for when the johns get too rough, or someone tries to mug me.

The guy turns to nod at the others, some sign or other—to finish Raine off? Or me?

Another muffled yell, and dammit, why doesn’t Raine shut the fuck up? If they’re focused on me, they’ll hopefully pay less attention to him, giving him a chance to escape.

No more time to waste. I kick at the guy’s knee, and it’s like kicking a lump of concrete. Fuck, I hope my toes aren’t broken.

He grunts and shakes me like a rag doll until my teeth rattle. “You piece of shit.”

I kick him again, and again, even as he’s shaking me, finally managing to land a good one at the side of his knee, and he curses, dropping me.

My ankle twists slightly, and my knees buckle so that I stumble, then fall, but I roll up again and take off toward Raine.

Motherfuckers. If they hurt him… I bowl into a guy who’s coming for me, throwing him off balance, and keep going. I lift my arm in a protective gesture when I catch the glint of another knife, and a burning sting tells me the blade caught me.

Raine. Where is he?

The guy with the knife comes at me again, and I glance around, searching. Raine is nowhere to be seen. He left?

Shit. Relief wars with anger and a deep-seated sadness, but it all fades in the face of imminent danger. I jump away from the blade-wielding guy, and fall against another who tries to grab me around the waist. I wiggle and elbow him in the gut, duck under the other’s arm, and stagger right before colliding with the one I’d kicked at before.

He grabs my arm and starts dragging me toward the deep end of the alley. Digging my heels in doesn’t seem to be making any difference.

Fucking joy.

“Jason!” Something hits the guy from behind, and we both stumble. His hold on my arm slackens and I free myself, then turn to see Raine. “Come on, let’s go!”

He didn’t leave me here.

The thought is all I manage before he grabs my hand and we start running, the other thugs after us.

He didn’t leave. He’s here. And he’s okay.

That’s all I need to know.

Chapter Nineteen

Raine

Running through the streets with the sting of cold wind on my face and fear riding at my heels feels too much like one of my nightmares, those where I’m trying to save Livvy, save myself, but can never stop the crash from happening, the impact, the pain, Livvy’s death.

I mean, what the fuck was that? I remember the press of the knife into my ribs and wonder if dear old dad only wanted to scare me or decided to get rid of me for good.

Then Jason’s hand tightens around mine, and my mind enters another loop as we run. He came for me? To save me? Or he just happened by? Those thugs knew him, and what was all that talk about a certain Simon and a club?

“Raine. Stop.” Jason pulls on my hand, his fingers slipping away from mine, and I turn to face him. “Shit.”

He bends over, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. A cut on his arm is seeping blood. It’s running down to his hand, a shiny red line that has my stomach roiling.

“You’re hurt,” I whisper. I’m so worried about him, I barely feel the burning pain in my side.