Page 137 of Insincerely Yours
With Jase’s arms being held back, there’s nothing stopping Trent from exacting payback. Yet, Jase just bares his own bloodstained teeth, the smile nothing short of feral as he laughs.
Trent charges for him, and before I can process the action, I’m running, all too prepared to throw myself between the two—
But it isn’t necessary.
Trent obviously sees me coming, because he wrenches me aside, and I’m throttled down onto the damp tile ground so hard that the grout breaks the skin on my left forearm.
Yeah, this doesn’t go over too well—not with Jase and not with a certain someone who accompanied me here.
Moving past me in a blur, Reed quite literally tackles Trent, the hit low and hard. I’d say that’s startling enough, but it doesn’t escape my attention thatbloodstains the front of Reed’s shirt even before he makes contact with Easton.
What the fuck?
Despite not having the build you’d generally associate with the maneuver, Reed’s ferocity more than makes up for it, because he drives Trent’s legs right out from under him, slamming the asshole into the ground. Not thinking, the guys holding Jase let go of him to pull Reed away, and just like that, all hell breaks loose. Along with Jase. In seconds, it turns into an all-out brawl, and it’s hard to see who’s hitting who for most of it. Only once two of Trent’s guys hit the ground can I see Reed grab the younger Easton’s head and throw it down into his awaiting knee. A loudpop!follows as Trent’s brother drops to the ground like a sack of beaten potatoes, his eyes tearing up from the swift impact.
It’s pretty damn satisfying to see, but not nearly as much as watching Jase pivot out of the way when Trent goes to punch him. Jase grabs his extended arm, rotates his body, and applies the perfect leverage to pull it right out of the socket.
Even better, it’s Trent’s throwing arm.
So much for football this coming season.
The crowd that had been egging on the fight not a moment before suddenly falls silent, as do the rest of us.
Easton’s too busy on the ground, hollering and melting into a blubbering mess, so it doesn’t take any effort for Jase to get a hold of his other arm. He knows exactly what he’s doing, twisting the appendage just enough to hurt but not dislocate.
I don’t know who else can hear, but since I’m still on the ground mere feet away, I don’t miss a word as Jase growls, “You ever lay a hand on her or anygirl, I’ll be back to finish the job.” He starts to apply pressure to Trent’s arm, and there’s a soft, almost indiscernibleclick, extracting a sound from Easton akin to a whimpering puppy. “When I’m done, you’ll need someone to help with more than just wiping your ass.”
Part of me (a very large part) would like for Jase to put this fucker in his place here and now, but then he’d be looking at blatant assault charges. I doubt the police would buy a self-defense argument, given the witnesses can attest to Trent lying helplessly on the ground.
Someone moves up behind me, and Jase doesn’t miss it, charging over with his fists curled.
I can hear the footsteps stagger backward, their owner’s voice unfamiliar. “Jesus, dude! Relax. I was just going to help her up. She’s bleeding.”
Only then does the pain fully register. I look down at my right forearm, finding a fair amount of red liquid running down the length of it. Even so, I can tell it looks worse than it actually is. I brush myself off and insist I’m fine, but Jase isn’t having it. He pulls me to my feet and immediately steers me towards the side of the house. And like the force of nature he is, Jase’s mere presence has everyone in our way parting for us like the Red Sea.
Maggie follows right behind me, her drunken footsteps causing her to bump into my back several times, but I can’t find Reed amid the crowd.
Jase just says he’ll be fine, unlatching the gate in the fence so we can make our way back out to the street. I spot the old cop car down the block, and, to my surprise, Reed comes out the front door of the house just as Maggie, Jase, and I reach the curb.
And Reed isn’t alone.
The guy in the blue baseball cap follows behind him in a casual stroll, but I spare him no more than a glance, too preoccupied with the girl curled up in Reed’s arms. Her whole body shudders, and as they come closer, I can hear her crying.
My heart somehow manages to defy biology, because it drops into my stomach at the sight.
It’s Aria.
I hadn’t seen or talked to her since she came to my house with her mom and Sienna, but considering the company here tonight, I can safely guess who brought her.
And the fact Jase doesn’t look surprised by what we’re seeing has bile threatening to make its way up my throat. He’s talking with Reed and Mr. Blue Cap, clearly already filled in on the situation, and based on who he was just pummeling his fists into, I can also safely guess the culprit.
Aria’s speech comes out a little slurred, making it even harder to understand amid her crying, but whatever they’re saying to her, she adamantly disagrees, shaking her head.
“You need to go to the hospital and notify the police, love,” Mr. Blue Cap reiterates, lifting the hat momentarily from his head to run a hand through his hair. Some verydistinctblonde hair. The act also removes the curtain of shadow that had been shielding his eyes. He may not be wearing a suit like he was at Murdock’s, but there’s no mistaking him.
It’s Dash Martin, a.k.a. the shady black market dealer Jase met with.
What ishedoing at a college house party? And why did Reed go off with him earlier? Is that why Jase is here, too?
