The Jealous Kind (Holland Family Saga 2)

“Over a beer can?” Saber said.

“Let me out.”

“No, that guy’s a mean motor scooter, Aaron. Anybody is who survives Gatesville.”

I pushed open the door and stepped out with the car still moving. Loren came toward me, his torso as pale and hard-looking as whalebone. I stepped back, raising one hand. “It wasn’t me who torched your heap. Maybe I cut your tires, but I didn’t set the fire.”

“Who did?”

“Probably the guys who threw the Mexican girl out of their car a couple of blocks from here.”

“What do you know about the Mexican girl?”

“Nothing.”

“Then shut your mouth, asshole. She was my cousin.”

“Don’t be calling me names.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“A guy who wasn’t looking for a beef until you and your brother and your friends ’fronted me on the street.”

There were nests of green veins in his forearms and chest. He was breathing through his mouth, his eyes out of focus. He hit me in the sternum with the heel of his hand.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“I’ll do it all day. You got a shank?”

“No.”

“How’d you cut our tires if you don’t carry a shank?”

“I said maybe I cut your tires.”

He thumped me in the forehead. “I can take your skin off, boy.”

“I know that.”

“Admit you burned my car.”

“I didn’t.”

He slapped me. “Lie to me again.”

The side of my face was on fire. I felt tears running down my cheeks. “I didn’t do anything to you guys.”

“You think you can come up to the Heights and wipe your feet on us? You come up here to dip your wick?”

“I didn’t wipe my feet on anyone.”

He raised his hand as though to slap me again. “I’ll knock your head into the storm sewer. I mean it, I’ll tear it clean off your shoulders. Who he’ped you do it?”

“No one,” I said, wiping my face.

Saber had gotten out of the Chevy. The passenger door was still open. I saw him reach under the seat for the tire iron.

“You chickenshit?” Loren said.