Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“This is private property,” Evan shoots back with no such restraint. I know without a doubt that right now images of Randall cornering me in a bar and trying to feel me up are spinning in his mind as he holds the smooth wooden ax handle in his fist.
“Your property ends at the grass. This sand here is a public beach, boy.”
Evan cocks his head, licking his lips. The madman thrill he gets from tasting his own blood.
“What’s the problem?” Cooper takes a step forward to put a bit more of his body between Evan and Randall. “Don’t try to tell me you got a noise complaint. All our neighbors are right here.”
Without a flinch, Randall spits out a flat response. “You don’t have a permit for this bonfire. It’s against city code.”
“Bullshit.” Thin on patience, Evan raises his voice. “People have bonfires all the time. No one’s ever needed any damn permit.”
“This is harassment,” Cooper says.
Looking bored, Randall reaches into his shirt pocket. “My badge number’s on the card. Feel free to file a complaint.” He flicks it at Cooper, who lets it fall to the sand. “Call it a night, or take a ride with me to the station.”
Evan picks up the business card. “Don’t want to be litter bugs, do we, deputy?”
With that, the party’s over. Meandering toward the house, people begin to disperse. Evan and Cooper retreat, albeit reluctantly, to pack up the drinks. With a regretful shrug, Mac goes to break down the chairs and folding table. Meanwhile, I have no idea where I left my purse. I’m hunting for it, saying goodbye as friends pass me, when I nearly bump into Randall, who’s blending into the night in his dark sheriff’s uniform.
“That didn’t take long.” He sneers, arms crossed, that unearned sense of superiority bearing down on me.
“What?” I don’t really want a response, so I try to dodge him, but Randall steps into my path.
“Harrison didn’t stand a chance, eh? Barely got his foot in the door, and you’re already stepping out on him.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” He’s got me zero to fed up in no time flat. I don’t like what he’s insinuating, and I’m not about to entertain his garbage on my home turf. We’re not in public. Out here, all sorts of things can happen, and no one would say a word.
“Means you’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart. Least of all me.” Randall leans in, growling words coated in the sickly stench of gas station corn dogs and coffee. “You’re still a lying little slut. Out to ruin another man’s life.”
“I’m sorry.” Evan comes striding up beside me, the ax slung with one hand over his shoulder. “I didn’t quite catch that.” He tilts his ear to Randall. “You’ll need to speak up. Say that again?”
“It’s fine,” I say, grabbing Evan’s free wrist. If I was worried about becoming a fugitive before, I’m downright concerned now. “Walk me to my car?”
“Go on, boy.” Randall moves his right hand to rest on his gun. The strap on the holster is unbuttoned. “Give me a reason.”
Evan flashes a wild smile I’ve seen a hundred times. Right before he took a running leap off a cliff or unloaded a paintball gun at a police cruiser. It’s a smile loaded with the serenity of madness saying, watch this.
“Yeah, you see …” Evan admires the ax, turning it in hand. “As a respected business owner and upstanding member of my community, I’d never run afoul of a lawman.” He flicks his thumbnail across the blade.
It’s then I realize this conversation has attracted an audience. A smaller contingent than the aborted party. In fact, with Cooper, Wyatt, Tate, and Billy, the remnants are made up almost exclusively of certified members from the Fuck Around and Find Out Society.
“But you come at me and mine sideways,” Evan says, not a hint of humor in his grave tone. “You better come to dance.”
For second or two, Randall appears to contemplate the offer. Then, sizing up the opposition, he thinks better of it. He barks a final order into the bullhorn. “Three minutes are up. Clear out.”
He doesn’t wait for compliance before trudging back through the sand and tall grass to the road and his waiting cruiser. I don’t release my breath until I watch the taillights blink red and then disappear.
Following Evan up to the house, I’m still a bit winded by the whole ordeal. Somehow, he’s still got the ax, which he tosses on the dresser when we enter his bedroom upstairs. I haven’t been in here in a year, and it feels oddly like stepping into a museum of my own life. Memories on every wall.
“What’s that look?” he says, pulling off his shirt and tossing it in the hamper. My throat goes dry as my attention is drawn to the lines of his chest, the defined muscles of his abs.