Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(56)

My legs tangle with Isaiah’s. He keeps a firm hold on my hip      bones and forces weightlessness by lifting me and moving me in the opposite      direction of my mom. I struggle back to earth, kicking his shins, knocking my      knees against his. “Isaiah, Trent’s in there. He’s going to kill her.”

“Let’s go.” His growl rumbles against my ear.

“Did you hear me?” He couldn’t have. Isaiah would never      leave me to die, so he could never leave my mom. The one person I need.

“Yes.” He presses against me and my smaller body yields to      his. No. My elbows bend back and      with open palms I shove at his chest. My heart convulses with the smack of my      hands against his body. I hit him—my best friend.

I’ll do it again if he doesn’t let me go. “I hate you!”

“Good,” he says. His nostrils flare as he lightly shakes my      hips. “Because I won’t feel bad when I toss you over my shoulder and throw you      in the damned car.”

My palms, still stinging from hitting him, rest on his      chest. His heart beats wildly, matching the crazy glare in his eyes. Isaiah      means what he says.

So do I. “I’m not leaving without her.”

“Get in the car before I force you into it.”

His hands tighten. A warning. A threat. My chest constricts,      making it impossible to breathe. Impossible to think. “He hits her.”

I say it like it’s a secret. Because it is. My secret. The      secret I hide from everyone. The secret that leads to my worst secret: he hits      me. Isaiah knows this already, but it’s different. I’m saying it out loud. I’m      making it real. And I’m asking him to save me. I’m asking him to save her.

Isaiah presses his face unimaginably close to mine. “He will      never touch you again.”

My throat swells and my voice comes out small. “I’ll let him      if it saves her.”

A visible shiver runs through his body and his hands release      my waist. Becoming a brick wall, Isaiah plants his feet on the ground and      crosses his arms over his chest, practically daring me to move past him.

I step to the left. Isaiah steps with me. I step to the      right. He mirrors the movement. “The car, Beth. Now.”

“Get out of my way!” He doesn’t and I feel like a cat      trapped in a box. I claw at his chest. Push. Hit. Scream. Yell. Curse. Until my      hands pound against him again and again and again.

Frustrated. Angry. Betrayed.

His arms weave through my attack, placing warm palms against      my face. He strokes away the wetness on my cheeks. A wetness I don’t understand.      I smack his arms off me. “If you were my friend...if you cared, you’d help      me!”

“Goddamn it, Beth, I’m doing this because I love you!”

My heart beats once and stalls as the world becomes      horrifyingly still. I see it, in his eyes—the sincerity. I shake my head. “As a      friend,” I whisper. “You love me as a friend.”

We stare at each other. Our chests rising and falling      rapidly. “Say it, Isaiah. Tell me you love me as a friend.” He’s silent and my      mind feels like it’s on the verge of fracturing. “Say it!”

I don’t want to deal with this. I don’t have time for this.      I step around him. “I’m getting her.”

“Fuck this,” he hisses as he bends. His shoulder makes      contact with my waist and in seconds my head dangles over his back, my feet      kicking him. I scream and watch through blurred vision as he creates more      distance between me and Mom.

A car door clicks open. Isaiah slides my body from over his      shoulder, covers my head, and uses his strength and size to push me into the      backseat while keeping me from bolting out of it. The door slams shut and Isaiah      has a death grip on my wrist. My head snaps to the left. The other door. It’s      locked. I pull at my wrist to gain freedom, to open the other door, but Isaiah      retains his hold.

The car whips into Reverse and the engine whines when it      accelerates.

“What the f*ck were you thinking, Beth?” My eyes widen. Noah      leans against the passenger door, one hand on the wheel. He doesn’t even wait      for an answer. “Isaiah said you’d come back for your mom, but I thought maybe      you’d have enough sense to stay away. Jesus, at least you’re predictable. Did      you think we wouldn’t remember that you’d check the damn bar before you checked      out the apartment? Isaiah, remind me to pay Denny extra for calling us so damned      fast.”