“I’m not scared of you or your redneck buddies here. See, Lauren is my girl. Mine. She knows that in her heart. And when she finally leaves your sorry ass, all you’ll have is your boys here to console you.”
“Lauren isn’t your girl,” I grumbled, rage building in my chest. I felt like I could tear him apart where he stood. “You put your hands on her. That was the last time you approach see her. Do you understand me? If she’s coming down the street, you better turn around and go the other way. If you find yourself in her sight, it means I will be on your ass. Get me?”
“If I get in her space again,” Ashton said, stepping closer, the grin getting wider on his face, “I’ll have her on her knees begging for my cock.”
My vision went red for a split second, and then my body reacted. My fist flew and cracked him on the jaw. He stumbled back, and I ran forward to tackle him, both of us crashing into the ground. A bellow of rage rumbled through the air as I swung on him.
Fists flew as we tumbled on the ground. Somehow, he wiggled out of my grasp and slammed an elbow into my eye, temporarily blinding me. I could hear Everett running toward us, and I held my hand out in his direction as I tried to grab Ashton with the other.
“No,” I yelled, “he’s mine!”
Ashton kicked at me low and missed, slamming his foot into my inner thigh. I dove forward onto him and drove my head into his chest. It took the breath out of him long enough for me to grab his shirt and pull it over his head. It was an old hockey move; one I’d learned years before in playground fights with the neighbor kids from Detroit. It worked every time.
Blinded by his own shirt and his arms pinned by them as well, he had no defense against the body shots I delivered to his ribs and stomach. He clenched for me, trying to swing, but only weakly hitting me in the shoulder or back. By the time his shirt was back on correctly, I had done damage to his body, and he scrambled away on his knees.
I knew I shouldn’t follow him. I should let him scurry away in defeat. But I was so angry, so vengeful, I kept going. I wanted to make an example of him. Something he would never forget. I made it three steps closer to him and reached down to grab him just as he got to his feet. I never saw the shovel coming.
It hit me in the side of the head with a clanging sound that rang in my ears. I could feel the hot, runny sensation of blood along the back and side of my head as I tried to get my feet under me. He was wheeling back to swing again, and I ducked just in time, diving into him and tossing him with a judo throw. The shovel went flying, and so did he.
Slamming into the ground below me, he was prone, and I dropped to my knees to begin pounding on his face. His hands went up to cover himself, and he curled into as much of a fetal position as possible as I wailed on him from above. Curse words spat from my mouth with no sentence structure to make them make sense, just angry curses spewing out of me.
Suddenly, I felt myself rise above the ground. My arms locked as I was carried away. Deacon and Everett were pulling me off him. I struggled at first but then gave in, putting my feet down and shoving them away, turning back to the truck. Everett put himself between us as Deacon opened the door, and I hopped in. Before he could get in, though, I leaned out of the window, noticing drops of blood splattering on the white door of Deacon’s truck.
“Leave Lauren alone,” I screamed, “or next time no one will stop me!”
It was probably a stupid move to threaten him like that, but Everett was already in the truck, and he pulled me into the middle of the bench seat while Deacon piled in. He jammed the truck in gear, and we sped off, heading back to the office.
“This doesn’t look too good,” Everett said, looking at my head as we drove.
“I’ve had worse,” I grumbled. “You should know.”
“I remember,” he said. “Trust me, I remember.”
We pulled into the office, and my heart sunk when I saw Lauren’s car there. I didn’t want her to see me like this, as much as I didn’t regret what I had done. She just didn’t need to see it.
“I’ll just go home,” I said as we got out of the truck, fishing in my pockets for my keys. It was at that moment that I realized I’d left them in the office.