Brazen Criminals by Maisie Kane

Author:Maisie Kane [Kane, Maisie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Midnight Magnolia Press
Published: 2023-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

Trips

I sit in the truck like a fucking idiot, driving Clara to the campus health center without saying a damn thing. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Oh, damn, I’m sorry I fucking lost it and put your ex in the hospital? Oh yeah, sorry about crippling a guy a few years ago and dropping that shit on you when you’re already down? Whoops, the cops are everywhere now, and you’re guilty by association? Fuck.

I sneak a glance at her, and she’s staring out the window, her good hand idly rubbing her bad shoulder. Shit.

Glaring at the road, I try not to let my anger spike again. When that douche grabbed her last night, I fucking lost it. I hardly remember what happened. All I know is my hands are bruised and my knuckles are busted, and Clara was dumb enough to get between me and that stalker, and the other guys were dumb enough to let her. I can’t even decide who I’m still mad at, her or the guys. And me. Always me.

She couldn’t even get in my truck. I wish I’d seen him reach for her a second sooner. I wish I could have tossed him down before anyone got seriously hurt. But wishes don’t get you fuck-all. I’ve had nearly two years of borrowed time, I felt like I was gaining some damn control over myself. And one fucking night ruined it. Wishes are just hopes waiting to be dashed.

I must have let out a sigh, because I feel Clara looking at me. “Are you okay?” she asks.

I work at not grinding my teeth. The girl is asking me if I’m okay? Seriously? “I’ll be fine,” I croak.

Instead of turning back to the window like I expect, she keeps watching me. “How about your hands?”

I flex one, the ache welcome. “They’ll heal.”

She lets out a small hum and turns back to the window.

We pull up to the health center. I find an open spot and go to pay for the meter when Clara stops me, her good hand on my arm. “Free meters on Sundays,” she says.

The sign under the meter says she’s right. I turn to ask her how she knew that, as she doesn’t have a car, but she’s already up the steps and at the door of the center. So I jog to catch up, pulling open the second door, as she’s already through the first.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Getting the door.”

“Yeah, but why are you coming with me? I can call when I’m done.”

“No.” I feel the urge to shake her. Of course I’m coming with her—she’s not safe until we figure out how to get rid of Douche-boy.

She rolls her eyes and marches past me, apparently deciding I’m not worth the fight. I miss the fight, and I hope her shoulder gets better soon. She seems smaller or duller or something when she gives up on a fight.

Fuck. Why do I care if she fights with me or not? This is ridiculous.

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