Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(2)

Spike? Seriously?

“No need to swear, Buddy, I have it right here. And I appreciate the favor.” I noted the sarcasm in Spike’s voice.

“Hand it over so we can go home, Asshole. You’ve got all the money; I don’t know why we’re still doing these little exchanges.” Bill’s unnamed friend sounded curt and bored at the same time.

“You’re a real prick, you know . . . ”

Suddenly, I heard a thump followed by a low grunt when Bill punched Spike square in the stomach. I had to cover my mouth to suffocate the scream that was trying to use my throat as an emergency exit. Terror flooded all five of my senses. One side of my brain told me to run away while the other told me to wait to see if Spike was OK. That side held its blue ribbon as I rooted my feet next to the oak tree.

“Bill! Son of a bitch, what’d you-ugh—what the hell?!” Spike, folded in half at the waist, stumbled back for a second before righting himself, one arm still clenched around his stomach.

“Seriously Bill . . . ” his friend cut in, trying to step between him and Spike.

“Shut the hell up Max! We’re doing this bastard and Ray a favor and he strings us along like he’s the one in charge. Sometimes, those of us in charge need to remind those of us who aren’t.”

OK, so the calm one was Max. This was little consolation given the tension hanging like fog around them; I begged the tree to swallow me.

“Don’t ever talk to me about Ray, you prick!” Spike threw a hook that drove Bill to the ground. I counted this as astoundingly impressive given that Spike was probably two inches shorter, and 50 pounds lighter, than Bill.

Suddenly, arms and legs were everywhere as night poured in around the brawl that erupted between the three men. My eyelids rose, taking in what little light was available as my eardrums pounded with the sounds of battle.

“I’ll talk about who and what I want, douchebag; especially about lying, trashy-ahh! Asshole!” Bill recoiled to the fetal position on the pavement when Spike kicked him.

“Bill, I’m f*cking warning you,” Spike’s voice was calculating and calm, purring like a panther ready to pounce, “never say Ray’s name in front of me again. Got it?” I knew if I was Bill that I’d make damn sure never to say it again.

“Come on, Bill, let’s get the hell out of here before someone calls the cops,” Max interjected, adrenaline ringing in his voice. He’d spent more time trying to break up the fight than participating, so he was still thinking clearly.

The cops, why didn’t I think of that?

“Max, just get in the truck if you’re going to be a useless *.” Bill’s body was sure to match his clearly bruised ego. Max didn’t listen; he stood cross-armed, probably waiting for Bill to back the hell down.

Bill threw his colossal body forward for one final punch, followed by a string of garbled cussing and the shutting of two truck doors. I jumped again as the engine roared to life, driving Bill and Max away. Luckily they went out the back driveway as I remained glued to the tree.

Looking around, I realized that despite being only two blocks from my heavily populated neighborhood, I was in the middle of a business district that was closed and locked up for the night. Those guys were no fools; they knew no one would be around. I had every right to freeze earlier-no one would have heard my screams if I’d gotten into trouble.

Relief escorted air away from my lungs as I heard the truck motor further into the distance, but a thought in the back of my nosey head made the blood leave my face. The rusty truck carrying Bill and Max had left, but the other vehicle was still here. Spike was still hanging around the garage, and I didn’t know if he was OK.

The remaining street lights flickered on as sunset whispered its goodbye. I figured I should call 911 if the guy was still lying on the side of the garage; I could no longer see him in the shadows from where I was standing. Even if he was gone, I thought I should still call. I walked cautiously across the top of the parking lot, looking for Spike. A shadowed figure slowly stood up, and my breath was slammed beneath the trap door of my throat.

“H-hey! Are you ok sir?” I managed. For all he knew, I had just walked over.

“I’m fine,” he clutched his ribs as he coughed, “thanks.” Well, that was convincing.

“You don’t look too good,” I said as I leaned in close enough to see him moving with a strained and painful effort. I remained far enough away to leave room between us should I need to run. “Can I call an ambulance for you, or something?”

“Look, you need to get out of here. It’s dark, you’re alone, and those guys might circle back.” He didn’t look up. Speaking through clenched teeth, he had his hands on his knees, regulating his breathing.

Why did he say “those guys?” How did he know I’d just witnessed the fight?

“What guys.” It wasn’t a question, really, since I didn’t need an answer.

“I saw you dropping off your car when I came down the front street, there, earlier.” He pointed to the front of the lot and took a deep breath before he straightened himself all the way upright. He stood maybe 6’0”, 6’1”; it was hard to tell given the distance I kept.

“Those idiots were sitting in their truck waiting for me. I didn’t want you to get caught up in the middle if I had shown up right on time. They must have had music on and didn’t hear you pull in.”