Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I… well, I’m not sure,” Noah said. He moved a swoop of dark hair that curled down onto his forehead back into place before chewing on his fingernails again.
“Your car was clearly visible in the footage, twice now. I think that’s enough to prove you’re involved in what’s happening to Noah. Here, I can show you the tapes.”
Franky clicked his tongue, waving a hand in the air and coming dangerously close to knocking my phone out of my grip. “You don’t need to show me shit. I don’t care. I wasn’t the one driving the car.”
“So who was, then?” Noah asked.
“I lent it out. That night you saw me driving it out of your neighborhood was because I had gotten it back.”
My eyes narrowed as I tried to read this man. Was he lying? Trying to throw us off his trail? Or was he saying the truth… if he really did lend his car out, then maybe whoever had it was responsible for the threat. “To who?” I asked.
“Come back with a fucking badge if you want answers. I’m done with this shit.” He turned and started back up the steps, but I didn’t feel like we were finished with this. It was the complete opposite. We were on the cusp of finding another puzzle piece; we just had to get it out of Franky first.
“It’d be a shame if your wife was brought into the investigation,” I said, knowing my words might be lighting a fuse and unsure of just how big the blast would be. “Having to hear about the relationship her husband kept secret from her.”
Noah looked at me with wide eyes. I couldn’t back down now, though. I had to keep pressing, and judging by the way Franky was now frozen midstep, I seemed to have found the right button to push.
“Help us so that it doesn’t get that far.”
Franky spun around, fast. Too fast for me to react. He practically leaped down the last three steps and was in my face in seconds, fists holding bundles of my shirt. “Don’t you dare fucking threaten me.” His breath smelled like a mixture of rotten eggs and beer. Maybe his cleaning service needed to be hired out for his inflamed gums before they cleaned any more houses.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, everyone, calm down.” Noah had his hands out like a lion tamer, trying to get the situation under control without having his face bitten off.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Franky asked me, ignoring Noah’s plea to keep the peace. There was an unchecked rage inside of Franky’s beady eyes, his grip tightening on my shirt, so tight that the neckline started to choke me. I realized then that I hadn’t thrown a punch in about ten years, going back to a fight I had in college over a roommate’s constant loud music. It had been dumb, and no one was hurt, but I had come out as the loser in that fight, with a black eye and a swollen lip that hurt for almost an entire week.
Hmmm… maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
15
NOAH BARNES
Oh no. This was bad. Worst-case scenario. The nuclear reactor was melting down, and total annihilation was only moments away. I reached for Franky’s hands, grabbing his forearms and telling him to stop again, but he ignored me, pushing me to the side instead with a force that nearly made me fall on my ass.
Jake didn’t seem to like that. He swiped up, hard, hitting his forearm against Franky’s arms, causing him to break his grip.
The physical touch seemed to be all Franky needed to escalate the situation. He started to swing, punching out at Jake’s head and chest. But Jake was faster, stepping backward onto the street, fists up. My heart hurt with how hard it beat inside my chest.
Franky went in again, landing a punch to Jake’s side. He winced. I cried out, shouting at them to stop. Neither listened. It was Jake’s turn to throw a hit. Franky tried to block it, grabbing at Jake’s wrist, but Jake had momentum on his side. His knuckles connected with Franky’s lower jaw, producing an audible crack and sending Franky spiraling down onto the floor, where he broke his fall with hands and knees.
The door to the townhome opened, and out flew Susan, practically leaping down the steps before crouching over her husband. “What the hell did you do to him?”
I was back at Jake’s side. His hand was getting pink from the impact, but other than that, he didn’t seem hurt.
“Gave him a taste of his own medicine,” Jake said, shaking his hand out.
She looked up at us with anger radiating from behind her glasses. Her eyes bounced from Jake to me, drilling directly through me. “Go. Go now. And if I ever see you or Noah here again, I will be calling the police.”