Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
“You want to go?” I smirk.
“Fuck no, you fight dirty.”
“I have to! Everyone is twice my size.”
“Fair point,” he says in agreement. The inside of the ambulance grows quiet.
“Fine! I’ve got a stupid crush,” I admit. Sam is a bit like a brother to me. We spend a lot of time together, and I had a hand in pushing him and his now wife together. I was all up in there, making sure it happened. I suppose I owe him a bit of my own love life. Not love, I remind myself, sex life. Because that’s all this is between Vincent and me.
“You shitting me?” He sits up. “He’s your brother's friend. Sounds—” Sam’s words are cut off when my phone starts to ring. I pull it out, thinking it’s going to be Melody or my parents, but the number is unknown. It’s a local area code, though, so I answer.
“This is Emma,” I say. The line is quiet for a long moment. “Hello?”
“Hey, Emma.” I recognize Tina’s voice.
“Hey, Tina,” I say back. Sam’s brows pull together, just as shocked as I am that Tina is calling me. “There something going on?” Again there is a long pause. I stand, slipping over to the passenger seat and point for Sam to get in the driver's seat. I can sense it. Something is wrong. “Where are you? You and Brittany still live in that blue house on the corner of Mayfield and 21st?”
“Yes,” she responds. “Please don’t call this in over the radio or whatever. I can’t get Brittany to go to the hospital, but I want someone to at least look her over.”
“All right. We’ll be there in a few minutes,” I tell her before I end the call.
“What’s going on?”
“No sirens,” I tell him as he starts the ambulance and pulls out of the parking lot we’ve been sitting in. He heard me say the location already, so I don’t have to tell him. “Park around the corner. I don’t want the ambulance sitting in front of their house.”
“Got it.”
“Something happened to Brittany, and the last person I saw her with was Blake before I left the bar, but it was early.”
“Careful, Emma, we don’t know what’s going on yet.”
“Something they don’t want going out over the radio. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put that shit together.” He nods in agreement.
It doesn’t take long for us to get to their place. I grab my bag and cut through the backyard and go to the deck door to knock. Tina slides it open for us.
“Thank you for coming. I’m just worried she’s got a concussion or something,” Tina says as I follow her through the kitchen and stop when we get to the living room. Brittany is sitting on the sofa. She lifts her head, and I can see the marks on her neck. Her eyes are already swelling up.
“Please don’t call the police. There is nothing to report. Things just got out of hand. He can get rough and doesn't know his strength,” Brittany rushes to say before I can utter a word. I know who the he is without her having to tell me. We all do. The unspoken name hangs in the room all around us.
“Not going to call anyone, but let us check you over.”
“Swear it.” Brittany’s eyes fill with tears. A knot forms in my throat, but I push it down.
“I swear it.” Her whole body relaxes at my words. I walk over, placing my bag down on the floor before sitting down on the sofa next to her to do what I can.
My little games with Chief Blake Finley are about to take on a whole new level.
CHAPTER 13
VINCENT
After Emma leaves for work, Mrs. C makes good use of her free labor, and by that I mean she has us hauling things. We help clean out the back basement where things have been stored since the '70s. Maybe earlier. I don’t even recognize half the items we lug up the stairs, but one’s an old washing machine that her great grandma used to have. It’s not electric but a wash basin with two rollers attached at the top. When I asked what it was, she explained it was to wring the water out of the fabric.
I think she’s trying to keep us busy so we don’t fight. My suspicions are confirmed when she sends us to clean an already spotless car.
“How long are you gonna be mad at me?” I ask as I wipe down the clear windshield. Mr. C takes good care of his belongings.
“How long are you gonna be panting after my sister?”
“Can we have a fistfight? I’ll let you get in a few hits and we’ll drink and be done with this.”
He clamps his mouth shut and disappears to the other side.