Campfire Chaos Read online K. Webster (Hood River Hoodlums #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Hood River Hoodlums Series by K. Webster
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
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“Help,” I croak out. “Help.”

Hollis and Roan appear out of nowhere, snapping into action like they’ve been trained to do. Hollis is barking out orders and yelling at Jordy and Terrence to hold onto me. I fight them, reaching for my lifeless girl, but they’re too strong. All I can do is stare at her, with tears streaming down my face as they try to help her.

Blood loss. Didn’t hit a major artery. Warm her up.

The words Hollis is saying to Roan aren’t computing in my brain. All I can do is fixate on the blood. Her blue lips. The pasty white color of her thighs that are beginning to bruise.

“C-Cover her up,” I choke out.

They aren’t too concerned about her nakedness as their focus is on her neck, so Terrence releases me to crouch down. He pulls her pants back up. They put him to work, helping.

A groan comes from the back room.

No fucking way.

I tear out of Jordy’s grip, leaping over the scene before me to get to that piece of shit. Jordy is hot on my heels, but my legs are longer. I run into the breakroom to find Ryan fucking Cuntingham writhing on the floor, his dick hanging out and holding his eyes.

Claws.

My fucking girl has claws.

Pride surges through me at her fight as I pounce on this monster. Jordy doesn’t stop me. I pin Ryan down, slamming a fist hard into face. His nose pops the second it breaks. He sobs and struggles, but he’s no match for my rage.

He hurt my girl.

He hurt my girl.

He hurt my girl.

Punch after punch, I lay into him, desperate to turn his face into a fucking pulp. Ryan’s breathing becomes ragged and shallow with each punch I land on him.

Time passes.

I grow weak, my punching slowing, but I don’t stop. The muscles in my bicep and forearm scream in pain. Each one of my knuckles is split and burning. Still, I continue beating him.

Voices grow louder.

Chaotic.

I don’t stop until someone finally pulls me away. I’m spent of energy. I want to fight this person off, but I can’t. All I can do is fall against them, a sob of defeat caught in my throat.

“Shhh, son,” the man says. “It’s okay. Calm down. You’re okay.”

People rush in to help Ryan. This sets me off. I scream and rage, trying to get to that monster, but the person holding me is too strong.

“He needs to die,” I choke out, tears leaking shamelessly from my eyes. “He needs to die.”

“Fitzgerald,” one of the EMT says, “get him out of here.”

I’m hauled up off the floor and dragged out of the room. I can’t keep my own body upright, relying on Fitzgerald to do it for me. Terrence and Jordy loom nearby, somber expressions on their faces.

“Charlotte,” I whisper. “Where is she?”

“She’s in an ambulance, son,” Fitzgerald says in a calm voice. “Let them take care of her.”

“She’s alive?”

Both Terrence and Jordy nod in unison.

Thank fuck.

“Let’s get you into the car,” Fitzgerald rumbles. “We can get all this sorted out quickly at the station. Then you can get to the hospital to see your girl.”

My fucking girl.

“I, uh, I need my dad,” I croak out, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by sights and sounds. Like my world is closing in on me.

“David Hutton has been a thorn in my ass for the past hour,” Fitzgerald states with a small chuckle. “Your dad is already there, waiting on us. Everything’s going to be okay, son. I promise you.”

As he leads me out of the building, an officer approaches. A woman.

“Michael Cunningham is in critical condition.”

Fitzgerald grunts. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“He raped my girl. He raped my girl,” I murmur, leaning against him. “He raped my girl.”

“I know, son. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t make me go to prison. She needs me.”

“I already let one kid go to prison for protecting the one he loved. I’ll be goddamned if I let it happen again. Just keep quiet and let me handle things.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom coos, “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

I try to pull my aching hand from her lap, but she won’t let me. It’s been hours since I was taken to the station where my parents were waiting. It was a total shitshow considering it was one of their cops who did this to Charlotte. I’d been told to keep my mouth shut while Samantha did all the talking. Apparently, Fitzgerald reported that the damages to Michael and Ryan were considered “self-defense” inflicted by the victim and that I threw a few punches to protect the victim. The bat—which Terrence scooped up and tossed in the truck—and my broken hand were left out of the report. Dad warned me I could be looking at aggravated assault charges, based on our Oregon laws, but Fitzgerald wasn’t having any of it.


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