Muscle for Hire(70)

“That I don’t know, mate. But it looks to me like someone’s out to cause some fucked-up shit over there.”

Aslin bit back a curse. Fucked-up shit was right.

“I’ve got an incoming call, mate,” Reynolds said. “I’ll call you back when I know more.”

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Aslin ground his teeth. All his suspicions had been confirmed. The explosion had been a deliberate attack. Nylon on the floor, like that left behind by incinerated fishing line…

He clenched his fists, rage simmering below his calm. Hurrying to Chris’s trailer, he unlocked the door and leapt inside the dim interior, his mind playing over everything Reynolds had told him.

“Shit.” A soft hiss came from his left.

Aslin snapped around, seeing a shape in the shadows of the trailer’s eating area. He saw Warren McCreedy’s eyes widen with recognition.

Something small and dark was flung at him. A wallet? He couldn’t tell. Didn’t have time. The wild punch came at him before he could dodge it. He took the blow, rolling with the force before slamming his right palm upward into McCreedy’s elbow and his left fist down onto the man’s biceps.

The man screamed, the wail barely drowning out the splintering sound of his elbow joint shattering.

Aslin pulled back enough to allow McCreedy to stagger his own step backward. Enough to let the man make the next move.

Which he did. A wild lunge at Aslin, his uninjured arm lashing out in a quick punch Aslin ducked effortlessly.

The man fell forward and then stumbled backward as Aslin’s fist slammed up into his gut.

And still McCreedy fought on, driving his knee upward, aiming for Aslin’s groin. “Fucker!” the man snarled. “You fucking broke my—”

He lunged again, aiming for Aslin’s jaw with his still-working fist.

It bounced off Aslin’s deflecting forearm, the block sending McCreedy staggering sideward. His hip smashed into the trailer’s kitchen counter and he threw back his head and wailed, a second before grabbing the glass blender jug Chris used every break between shoots.

“Fucker.” McCreedy swiped the jug at Aslin, his eyes feverish, his broken elbow a jarring angle at his side. “You fucking fucked everything up.”

Adrenaline flowed through Aslin’s veins like liquid electricity. “Fucked what up, Warren?” he asked, keeping his voice curious and his stare locked on McCreedy’s face. “Stopping you from stealing from Chris? Is that what you’re doing here?”

“You fucking know what.” Spittle splattered from the man’s lips. “Me, Chris, Rowan…everything.”

Icy calm descended over Aslin. Resolute and infinite. He curled his fists, his muscles coiling, his blood on fire. “Rowan? You’re the one trying to hurt her? So you can be part of Chris’s world again? A world she took away from you when she disbanded his entourage?”

“Hurt her?” McCreedy’s shout reverberated around the closed space. Eyes bulging, he shook his head, his hand shaking as he brandished the blender jug like a blade. “Why the fuck would I want to hurt her? I fucking love her. I want to fucking be with her. And you fucking came along and—”

He threw himself at Aslin, the jug swinging for Aslin’s head.

Aslin blocked the feral attack, snatching McCreedy’s wrist before the jug could strike, and slamming an uppercut into the man’s pudgy gut. Once. Twice. Three times.

McCreedy crumpled to the floor, the jug spilling from his fingers, his moans filling the trailer.

Aslin pinned the man’s wrist to the ground under the ball of his boot and hooked a fist into his loose, sweat-soaked shirt. “Tell me again and I promise I will let you live. Are you trying to hurt Rowan?”

McCreedy shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks, snot bubbling from his nostrils. “I love her,” he blubbered, eyes squeezed shut, face a distorted mask of terrorized misery. “I wouldn’t hurt her. I love her. I love—”

“So you’ve been trying to get rid of me?”

“No, no, no.” Fresh snot oozed from McCreedy’s nose. “I haven’t done anything. Honest. I wouldn’t. Shit man, you scare the shit out of me. I just want to be with Rowan, that’s all. I love her.”

“Why did you attack me when I came in?”

McCreedy whimpered. “I—I dunno. I saw you and panicked. I don’t want Chris to know I’ve been stealing from him. I don’t. I—”

Aslin rose to his feet, kicked the jug away and stared down at the sobbing man. His gut churned. His fury dissolved into disgusted pity. “I’d suggest you leave. Now. Say goodbye to Tilly. Tell her you’ve been lying to her all this time and she needs to find someone else who deserves her. Write Chris a note telling him you quit. Tell him you’re not cut out to be a key grip. Tell him you’re going back to the U.S.”