Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1)(32)

Beth’s voice broke. “I can’t lose you guys.” And there it was. She sat here bleeding because she loved me and Isaiah. For the millionth time, I wished the system was a person. One person I could name, know and hold responsible for screwing every single one of us. Right now, Beth’s mom’s new boyfriend would have to do.

I stood up and kissed the top of Beth’s head. “You ready, bro?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up, man.” Isaiah opened the front door, his eyes cold and deadly.

Beth’s one good eye widened. “No,” she whispered.

“I ain’t bailing you boys out,” said Dale.

“Never asked you to,” I said and walked for the door.

A car swerved coming up the street and flew into the grass of the front yard. The passenger door opened before the car stopped, and Beth’s mother hopped out. Her blond hair fell from a ponytail, eyes bloodshot, a bruise forming under her right eye. “I want my baby. I need to tell her I’m sorry.”

“Go to hell,” said Isaiah. “She ain’t your doll to play dress-up with.”

The Beamer’s headlights stayed on. A large man staggered from the driver’s side. “Shut your trap. Sky wants her slut daughter. Tell her to come out or I’m going in to get her.”

Isaiah and I stood side by side, a silent agreement that we’d kill him before he got to the front door. My brothers flashed through my mind. As much as I wanted to protect Beth, I also needed to protect them. “Leave now before I call the police.”

God damn, this guy had to be at least six and a half feet tall and he looked familiar. He stood toe to toe with Isaiah and me. The stench of alcohol rolled off of him. His eyes shifted nervously and his body flinched.

“He’s tweaking, man,” Isaiah said to me.

Fabulous. This night had shifted from the best to bad to Saw in record time. The man turned the ring on his finger. That was no regular ring—that was a damn Super Bowl ring. “Go ahead, call the police. Everybody loves me. I ain’t going to jail.”

“Aren’t you that ass**le that got kicked off that loser team a couple hours from here?” I said, trying to keep his eyes off the house.

He blinked a couple of times, like his f**ked-up mind understood for three seconds that a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound linebacker shouldn’t be picking fights with a sixteen-year-old girl and her two stoner friends.

“I’m tired of this bullshit, man,” Isaiah whispered to me seconds before he hauled back and hit the bastard in the jaw. The impact would have sent me to the ground, but this guy only turned his head. Dammit all to hell … everything about this was going to suck.

The bastard raised his fist to retaliate, but found himself on the ground when I tackled him right at his knees. I had the fleeting thought that I should thank my gym teacher, Mr. Graves, for the three weeks of football instruction.

I rolled away from him before he could throw a punch. Isaiah came too close and the ass**le swept Isaiah’s legs out from underneath him and pounded him in the gut as he fell to the ground. The sound of Beth’s mom screaming irritated the shit out of me.

The bastard rose, as did I, and I punched him in the kidney before he had a chance to kick Isaiah, who lay on the ground with the wind knocked out of him. Tweaker turned and swung for my head, but I ducked and landed a punch on his stomach. He grunted and swayed, but stayed upright.

I needed to get this loser back on the ground. I attempted to tackle him again, but aimed too high. My sides stung when he threw two good punches into my rib cage. The two of us crashed into his car as Isaiah stood up and cracked the guy in the back with his fist.

A gunshot screamed into the night. Both Isaiah and I froze. I prayed to God that nothing warm or wet left my body, and I wasn’t referring to piss.

“Sky, you and this trash get off my property,” Dale said in a surprisingly calm voice. He stood on the front stoop, hunting rifle cradled in his hands. “You boys okay?”

“Super,” said Isaiah through clenched teeth.

“Never better.” Dammit, my knuckles throbbed.

“Get in the house before Beth goes into hysterics,” said Dale.

I pushed off the Beamer and did my best to not stumble to the house. Isaiah came up beside me. “Think she could have told us we were going to fight the NFL.”

“Would that have stopped you?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” The laughter between the two of us echoed into the night.

BETH CRIED HERSELF TO SLEEP—in Isaiah’s arms.

I lay on the couch, watching some eighties movie on television. The sound was so low, I had no idea what anyone said for an hour. My ribs ached, my knuckles throbbed, but damn, I felt good. Dale and Shirley had told Sky never to come back and that Shirley was heading to Sky’s tomorrow to collect Beth’s stuff. Dale and Shirley had issues, but they were good people at heart.

Beth whimpered when she shifted in her sleep. Isaiah soothed her with hushed words and ran his hand through her hair. She wrapped her arms tighter around his chest and placed herself practically on top of him. Isaiah continued to rub her back.

“How long have you been into her, bro?” I asked Isaiah.

Isaiah let his head fall back onto the wall. “A while. Terrified to tell her, but now … I can’t keep letting her be with guys that use her or just watch as she goes to her mom when she needs to feel loved. What am I going to do, man?”