Page 35 of Fourth Wheel
“Get in the car,” I instruct my brother, gripping him by the shoulder to guide him toward the vehicle.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screams, spinning out of my hold and practically face planting on the hood of my car.
“His shoulder,” Maddie murmurs behind me.
I look from my brother back to my—toher, unsure who to give my attention to or how the fuck to play this.
“I think he dislocated it during the fight. I helped him put it back in place.”
What. The. Fuck?
“Who was he fighting?”
“Literally everyone,” she deadpans.
“Dude. Dem.” Fielding lifts his head off the car, then drops it back down with a thud and a groan. “You should have seen this girl tonight. She was like Chris Pratt fending off the raptors or some shit. She was screaming and cussing, and then she threatened them all with misdemeanors and blackmail. It was epic. Wait ’til you see the video.”
“What video?”
I turn back to Maddie and search her face, but she’s looking at the ground. I follow her gaze, and it’s then that I notice she’s barefoot and purposely keeping her weight on one leg.
“Hey.” I reach out tentatively, the urge to comfort her dominating all my racing thoughts. I have no idea what happened tonight. Or what she needs right now. As my fingertips graze her arm, a cackle of laughter erupts farther up the driveway. It sounds like a group of guys. They get increasingly louder as they get closer.
Maddie grips my arm and digs her nails into my skin. She looks up the driveway, then back at me, the definition of terror painted on her face.
“Shit. I can’t stay here. We have to go. Dempsey… please.”
The fear in her eyes and the tremble in her voice spur me into action. I can’t deny this girl. Her plea echoes through my body as I instinctively move closer.
I skim one hand down her arm and take the shoes from her, then guide her toward the car. I lean down to whisper in her ear as we walk, that all-too-familiar scent of strawberry sweetness making my nostrils flare.
“You’re safe now. You’re coming with us.”
I lead her to the passenger door and note how she grimaces when she hoists herself into the seat. She’s hurt. She’s a mess. And I can’t help but feel like this ishisfault. And now it’smy mess.
I glance through the windshield to where my brother’s still sprawled out on the hood of my Range Rover. If he dents the thing, I’ll be even more pissed.
Maddie buckles her seat belt and lets out an exhalation that feels horribly heavy.
I brace my arms on the top frame of the open door, because if I don’t do something with them, I’m liable to reach out and wrap her in a hug. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I don’t know,” she admits, looking up at me with wide eyes brimming with tears.
I don’t know what she’s been through tonight, but I’m livid on her behalf. Whoever did this is going to fucking pay. And if my brother contributed in any significant way…
The question that’s been eating at me since the second I got the call comes to mind. Again. And even though I know now’s not the time, I can’t help but ask.
“Did you come here with him?”
Her eyes double in size as she looks from me to my brother, then back again.
“What? No! What the fuck, Dempsey? Do you think I’m out here trying to bag any Haas who’ll take my calls?”
I give her a pointed look. But I still feel like an ass.
“I came here with friends,” she continues, peering out through the windshield to where my brother’s rolling around and groaning on the hood of the car. “On a double date, in fact. Not that it’s any of your business. I was walking out to the barn when I saw this group of guys doing some sort of dumbass fight club thing. Except it was all of them—at least ten of them—against one. When I saw who they were beating on, I stepped in.”
“What do you mean you stepped in?” I snarl. What the fuck is my brother even doing at this party with high school and college kids? And why the fuck did Maddie Wheeler have to be his knight in shining armor?
