Page 27 of Twins for the Enemy

“No,” the man says. His head is too large for his body, but it’s less about being disproportionate and more that he’s unnaturally thin. Sick or drugs. His blonde hair is shaved close to his head, but it’s uneven.

He’s also a terrible liar.

“Throw it over to me.”

“I said I didn’t have any weapons.”

“I heard you. Forgive me if I don’t believe the man trespassing on my land.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe a kidnapper.”

He charges at me. He’s not slow, but the distance between us gives me enough time to sidestep him. I slam the gun between his shoulders. He crumples.

It’s disappointing. I expected more of a fight. I need moreof a fight.

He grabs at my ankle. I slip out of his grip, stomping down on his wrist. He grunts, his fingers contracting and loosening.

“Stop!”

Small hands shove me. With her swaying blonde hair, Farah looks like a burst of light in the darkness. It’s disarmingly cute, even as she continues shoving and hitting me. I didn’t know somebody could throw so many punches at somebody’s face and miss every time.

I deke another punch, grabbing her around the waist and lurching her backward.

“Get back in the house!” I point up toward her room, immediately regretting it, thinking about how this man could find her from that small gesture. She takes deep, heaving breaths, several strands of her hair falling in her face. “Fuck, I’m trying to protect you!”

“And I’m trying to protect him!”

She points past me, to the man.

I glance back. The man is slowly standing up.

“He’s my brother,” she continues.

“Neal,” I say slowly. I recall the surveillance photos of Neal Todd. He’s had long, badly formed dreadlocks and a beard.

At least I was right about the addiction.

“Neal,” she echoes. She runs over to his side, her shoulder hitting against my arm as she passes by. She embraces him so tightly that he winces.

“How does your brother know where you are?” I ask.

“I texted him in case anything happened to me.”

“Texted how?” I ask. “You don’t have a phone.”

She glares at me, still holding tight to her brother.

“I didn’t know he was going to show up,” she says, dodging my question better than I could dodge her punches. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out whose phone she stole. She turns back to Neal. “We need to ice your arm.”

“He’s not coming insidethe house.”

“You hurt my brother,” she snaps. “You lost the right to set rules about this.”

“It’s my property. If I say—”

“If he’s not going in, I’m not going in.”

She folds her arms over her chest. Her cheeks are pink from the cold. With only the undershirt on, I can see the goosebumps on her skin and hard nipples pressed against the thin fabric. A shiver passes through her, despite her attempts to hide it. It has to be below 40s. She’s already been out here too long.

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