Page 48 of Resist

“They got their money?” Eli asked Ainsley again. Obvious, she’d been right when she said her brother was laying low, hiding from the thugs.

“Not all of it.”

Eli ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Fuck.”

Mick belched, then breathlessly barked, “They got two hundred dollars of my money, you worthless prick.”

His son rolled his eyes. “So fucking sue me, Mick.”

Mick put the leg of his recliner down, leaning forward, though it took some effort. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

Eli laughed. “Come at me, old man. I ain’t afraid of you. You’re already huffing and puffing. Why the fuck don’t you do us a favor and just die already?”

Jesus. What the hell was wrong with these guys?

Apparently, Eli had been right about Mick’s posturing, because the old man made no attempt to rise. His breathing was labored, his gray face now blotchy and red from even that limited amount of exertion.

“Fucking useless kids,” Mick muttered darkly.

“Come on.” Ainsley tugged on his arm. “Let’s get out of here, Coulton.”

Mick had been scowling at Eli, but he turned his attention back to them when she said his name. His eyes widened. “Wait. Did you say your last name was Moore?”

Coulton nodded.

“You’re the goalie for the Stingrays,” Mick said.

“Huh?” Eli grunted.

“I thought your name sounded familiar.” Mick looked at Ainsley. “How the fuck didyouland this guy?”

“The same way she lands ’em all,” Eli sneered. “The whore spread her legs.”

Coulton took a step toward her brother, ready to tear the prick from limb to limb, but Ainsley stepped between them.

“We’re leaving,” she said.

“I don’t think we are,” Coulton replied, fists clenched. “Not until he understands he can’t say shit like that.”

Ainsley placed her hand in the center of Coulton’s chest. “He’s not worth it. Trust me.”

“If you think I’m going to let him talk to you?—”

“Please!” Ainsley said almost desperately. “Can we just get the hell out of here?”

Coulton glanced from Mick to Eli…and he realized Ainsley was right. These men weren’t deterred by fists or words. They were evil, selfish pricks, right to the core, and there was nothing he could do or say to them that would make a damn bit of difference in the way they treated Ainsley.

He covered the hand still on his chest, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They’d just crossed the threshold when Eli called out, “Hey, how much do goalies make?”

Coulton ignored him, and the two of them walked out of the apartment, Mick and Eli erupting into a shouting match before the door even closed behind them.

Ainsley preceded him down the stairs, holding herself stiffly. She was silent until they stepped out onto the street.

She stopped right outside the door. “Maybe we should just forget this.”

“What? Why?”

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