lowered my hand for Taylor. She looked relieved to see me and reached for my hand, but one of the guys in the back blocked her from taking it. We’d drawn a pretty decent crowd by this point. Taylor looked scared, and I’d had enough. I reached for the door handle just as Clutch slammed both of his fists down on the hood of the car leaving two matching dents. “Taylor, get out of the fucking car, right now,” he said between gritted teeth.
The driver lifted up in his seat and looked out as his hood. “What the fuck? You dented my car.”
This time when I lowered my hand for Taylor to take no one blocked it. She grabbed it, and I lifted her up and over the side of the car. The second her feet hit the ground, she ran off.
Clutch stepped aside, and with a flourish of his hand, he suggested they drive away. Which they did— without hesitation. The steam was still rising off my buddy’s skin as he stepped back over to the side of the road. The spectators broke apart mumbling in disappointment at the uneventful ending.
We watched the Mustang screech out of the driveway. I looked up at him. “That was subtle.”
“Shut up, Nix. What a lousy-ass night. Let’s get out of here. I’ll give you a ride to your car. Where’s Dray?”
“Haven’t seen him.” We walked over to the Pontiac. An older man was looking underneath the hood.
“Give me a minute, Nix. Let me see if this is a serious buyer or just some goofball.”
“No problem.” I looked around wondering if Hammond had taken off right away or if there was a chance she was still here somewhere. I pulled the picture out of my wallet and ran my thumb over it thinking about her palm pressing against my face. I could still feel her touching my skin. A hand slapped my shoulder, jarring me out of my thoughts. I stuck the picture back in my wallet.
“Hey, is it true Clutch pounded on some asshole’s car?” Dray asked.
“Yep, it’s true.”
“Damn, I wish I’d seen that. What had him so pissed?”
“Taylor.” It was all I needed to say.
“Of course.”
The customer walked away, and Clutch’s frown returned. “I’m done here,” he said dejectedly. He lowered the hood on the Firebird. Just as it snapped shut, the Mustang pulled up and screeched to a stop. They’d gone to pick up an oversized friend who looked like a linebacker. Armed with their own giant, they confidently hopped out of the car.
“I take it this is the dented car,” Dray mumbled from the side of his mouth. I could hear the excitement in his tone at the prospect of a fight.
“Yeah. Looks like they went to get a big brother.”
The three of us stood shoulder to shoulder.
“You dented my friend’s car,” the thick necked guy grunted.
“Yep,” Clutch said, “he’s just lucky I didn’t dent his head.”
For the second time that night, we’d attracted a curious crowd. We were definitely getting more attention than the vintage cars.
The moose who looked as if he had more muscle than sense smacked his fist in to his palm. “We’ll see whose head gets dented.”
Dray stepped forward. “Yeah, you and me, Cyclops, right now.”
The guy stared down at him, and a smile crept up his face then he looked at Clutch. “That’s sweet. You have your own personal leprechaun to fight for you.”
The tension bounced off of Dray like a taut bungee cord. “Now, I wish you hadn’t called me that.”
“Dray, forget it. It’s not worth it,” I said. He ignored me, and I knew he would.
“Why is that?” the ogre asked.
Dray moved closer. “Because now I’m going to have to punch a fucking hole in that ugly face of yours.”
The guy opened his mouth to laugh, and I lunged at Dray and grabbed his arm. I looked at the imbecile and his friends, and my expression must have been enough to let them know that they were messing with dynamite. Dray’s arm was as hard as iron beneath my grasp. It was like holding back a catapult after the spring had been released. “I suggest you
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes