Walking over to the Honda, Jared raised his helmet above his head and brought it down with a deafening crash on the windshield. Again, he repeated the action, smashing the windshield again and again until it was shattered beyond usefulness.
Heading back towards the house, Jared stopped by the man on the ground. “You’re not welcome at the Loop anymore.” His voice was low and strained. His tone was eerily calm.
I could do nothing but stand there, paralyzed with shock at the scene I’d just witnessed.
As Madoc bent to pick up the second guy, his attention snapped to me. “Jared,” he warned. Jared, following his gaze, turned his eyes on me.
A little too late, I realized I was standing with a gun…in the open…in my underwear. My Three Days Grace t-shirt and red boy shorts covered me, but they were tight. My feet were bare, and my hair hung loose down my back. The Glock secured tightly in my right hand hung at my side with the safety on. Was the safety on? Yes, the safety was on…I think.
Madoc was bleeding from the nose, no doubt broken again, but he grinned at me. Jared looked…dangerous. He studied me, his dark eyes and severe brow making me feel more exposed than I already felt. His hands clenched into fists, while his gaze traveled warily down my body and then to the gun in my hand. I could feel the energy coming off him in heat waves.
Ugh, I’m a stupid girl! Had I really wanted to help him?
I cocked my eyebrow and pursed my lips in an effort to look annoyed. What an asshole to bring this drama to our street! Turning, I walked quickly up my porch steps and slammed the front door behind me.
Taking the gun to my bedroom that night, I wasn’t sure what I was protecting myself from. A damn gun wasn’t going to keep those brown eyes out of my dreams.
Chapter 15
The bubble-popping sound of my computer sounded early the next morning, notifying me that I had an incoming call.
“Hey, Dad,” I drawled out sleepily after clicking on the call.
“Good Morning, Pumpkin. Looks like I woke you. Sleeping in today?” He sounded concerned.
Glancing at the clock on my laptop, I saw that the time read six thirty. “Damn!” Throwing off the covers, I ran into my closet. “Dad, can I talk to you after I get home tonight? I’m supposed to be in the lab in thirty minutes.”
Tuesdays and Thursdays worked best for Dr. Porter, my mentor and Chemistry teacher from Sophmore year, so I opted to make it to the lab those mornings for some extra work time on my Science Fair research.
“Yeah, sure, but it will be pretty late for me…or early, actually. Listen, I just needed to tell you that Grandma is coming in tonight.”
I poked my head around the closet door and suppressed a groan. “Dad, do you think you can’t trust me? I’ve been just fine here by myself.” It almost felt like I was lying. Everything from the night before, K.C. and then the fight, hit me so hard that I wanted nothing more than to punch something.
“I trust you completely …but your grandma doesn’t.” He laughed. “She’s just worried about you being on your own, so she said she’d come by for a few days, possibly a week, and lend a hand. You are still a minor after all, and she keeps watching those news shows like Sex Slaves in the Suburbs. She worries.”
My dad and his mom hated the idea of me practically living alone for three months, but my desire to be in my own school for my senior year won out.
I shimmied into some skinny jeans, slipped a long-sleeved, fitted violet tee over my head, and walked out of the closet.
“If it will put her mind at ease, but as you can see, I’m fine,” I sighed.
“I’m not even sure what the law says about this, actually. You are staying out of trouble, right?” His eyes narrowed at me as I slipped on some black ballet flats. Dad was calm about most things, but trying to parent me from Germany was driving him up the wall. This was the seventh time we’d talked in the past two weeks. With the time difference, that was an accomplishment.
“Of course.” I almost choked on my words. If you could call running out of the house to possibly shoot a couple of street thugs “staying out of trouble…” “And I’ll be eighteen in a couple of weeks. I’m barely a minor anymore.”
“I know.” My dad exhaled wearily. “Alright, I’ll let you go. Just be home for dinner for your grandma tonight.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Sound good?”
“Talk to you then. Have a great day, Pumpkin.” And he clicked off.
***
The breakfast bar and juice box I grabbed before leaving the house held me over during the lab work, but by first bell, the hunger pangs started. Coupled with the fact that K.C. hadn’t shown up or texted back this morning, I rushed in aggravation down the hall to the cafeteria for a vending machine run before class.