Warrior (First to Fight #1)(68)

“Oh, honey.”

“I tried to give him a chance, the way he wanted me to, and clearly, that’s not what he really wants. And I’m tired, so tired, of giving and not receiving.”

“If you could just give him one more chance--”

The page loads and I start reading the link, which does turn out to be a news story. Sheila talks in the background, but her voice turns into a buzz and my stomach rolls.

Local drug dealer and son die in car accident

Police were brought to the scene of a horrific traffic accident this weekend after witnesses describe a high speed chase occurred. According to police reports, Thomas Thurston and his newborn son were fleeing the scene of an apparent drug deal gone wrong when they drove headfirst into oncoming traffic. Both Thurston and son were pronounced dead at the scene.

The driver of the pursuing vehicle, Mason Smith, suffered minor injuries. Once interviewed by police, it was determined that Smith was intoxicated. He is now in custody.

Thurston is survived by his wife, Lucy, and their daughter Amy, 5.

Attached to the article is a photo of the wife and daughter. The girl looks…she looks like me.

“Hello? Olivia, are you there? Hello?” comes Sheila from my phone.

A knock on my car window makes me jump. I look up and find the woman from the news article. Only she’s a good twenty years older and someone that I considered to be a friend.

Melissa knocks on the window again and opens the car door before I can lock it. She nudges her way in and presses a gun against my temple.

“Hello, Amy.”





I thought cutting Olivia loose would make me feel better, but f*ck if it doesn’t make me feel like shit. Lower than shit. Lower than I felt when I ignored the last couple of emails from Scott. But nothing could make me feel worse than putting Cole in danger.

I’m lying on the couch with my arm thrown over my eyes in an attempt to ignore my mother’s glares at me from across the room. Cole is sitting on my chest, pretending to drum out a beat as he watches my brothers play some music game or another. Mom makes a sound of derision and stalks from the room.

I was going to beg off the dinner with my family tonight, but my house was too quiet. I would take the chaos of my parents’ house over facing my own demons any day.

Mitchell comes over and takes Cole to sit between them, and I watch with a smile pulling at my lips. A knock sounds at the door, so I leave the boys to their antics to answer it.

Logan gives me a grim look and says, “Can I come in for a minute?”

I open the door and move so he can enter. “What’s up?” I ask, though from the look on his face, I’m afraid to know the answer.

“We got something off the prints from the break-in at Olivia’s house.”

I rock back on my heels and rub a hand over my face. “That’s good, man, but you should be telling Livvie this.”

“I tried calling her cell a few minutes ago, but I didn’t get an answer. There was something else, and I wanted to make sure to tell the both of you in person.”

Despite what happened between us the day before, I grab my cell and try to call Livvie myself, but she doesn’t answer, which surprises me. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but it’s not like her to ignore a call from me, especially considering the fact that I have Cole and it could be an emergency. I try again with the same result.

“She isn’t answering for me, either,” I tell Logan. The back of my neck starts itching, and that’s always a sign something isn’t right.

“What was it you needed to tell us?”

“Ben!” my mom shouts from the other side of the house.

I glance in her direction then back at Logan. He opens his mouth to speak, but another shout from my mom cuts him off.

“Sorry, man. Come on in. Let me see what she needs and then we can sit down and talk.”

We find my mother in the kitchen clutching the house phone, her face sheet-white. I immediately go to her side and say, “Mom, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Her eyes find mine. “I was just on the phone t-talking to Olivia.”

Relief flashes through me. “Good, is she still on? Logan needs to talk to her, too. It was about the case.”

A sheen of tears fill her eyes. “I was on the phone with her and she said to hold on for a second. Then--then I heard a scream,” she whispers. “And the phone went dead.”

The ground shifts under my feet, and I have to grasp the kitchen counter to find purchase. A high-pitched ringing fills my ears. Logan comes up beside me and puts a hand on my arm. I shake it off, but it allows me to refocus.

“What did you have to tell us, Logan?”

His face is solemn. “The prints we got from Livvie’s house came up with a match. Ben...dammit, Ben, they matched the prints we lifted from the car where we found Cole.”

“Were you able to get a name?”




My ears are ringing—with rage or with his high-pitched screams, I'm not sure. My hands and face are coated with his blood, but I don’t care. Rivers of it rain down the sloped linoleum floor. If it weren’t for the grip on my boots, I would have slid to my knees with my next punch. The crunch is as satisfying as his unanswered pleas for help.

“Where is she?” I don’t recognize the sound of my voice. The guttural tone and pitch of desperation sounds a lot like madness.