Her heart seemed to tumble into her stomach as she locked her finger on the lid of the pepper spray. “I’m not sitting. I’m leaving.” Actually, no, she wasn’t. She couldn’t leave the vulnerable West with this guy. And she didn’t want to wake West up, either. In his current state, he might say the wrong thing, provoking Stan, and might get himself stabbed.
Stan lifted the switchblade he held, the sharp silver glinting in the light. “You’ll sit or you’ll bleed. Your choice.”
Her legs trembled as she weighed her options. She could close the distance and spray him, risking being stabbed...or she could do what he wanted and risk being stabbed anyway. “I don’t care what you threaten. I like where I am and I’m not sitting.”
West smacked his lips and mumbled something unintelligible, and Brook Lynn inched her way in front of him, blocking him from Stan’s view.
“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, okay,” Stan said. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I want to show you what he is, prove he’s a monster. I want this town to know. I’ve heard everyone talk about him, and you’d think he wears a halo. So if you want to stand, stand, but one way or another you will be calling out for him, screaming his name. I’ve been waiting for this moment, and I know what will happen the moment he arrives. Everyone will find out what kind of man he really is.”
Her eyes widened. “You want him to beat you up?”
“Why not? I’m happy to suffer the same fate as my brother, as long as Jase suffers in the end.”
Her stomach churned. Playing dumb, buying time, she said, “I don’t understand. Your brother?”
“My name is Stanton Gillis. The man you’re planning to marry beat my older brother Pax to death. And for what? Taking what some skank bitch offered before changing her stupid mind?”
Oh...no. No, no, no. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for your loss, but getting Jase to hurt you isn’t going to bring your brother back.”
“It might make me feel better.”
“It won’t.”
“I think that it will.” Stanton ripped at the buttons of his shirt. His chest and arms were covered in tattoos, and most of them were of Jase—being murdered. In one, he was being stoned. In another, he was being dismembered. In another, he had a gun to his temple. But mixed in with the many deaths of Jase were multiple deaths of him, Stan. He wanted to die?
Tremors nearly shook her off her feet. The crazy pouring out of him was off the charts. There would be no talking him around. No reasoning with him.
“Pax had a brilliant future, but it was stolen from him.” He took a step toward her, hate, rage and bitterness simmering inside his eyes. “Jason only had to serve nine years for his crime, but my brother is gone forever. Where is the justice in that?”
Underneath the tattoos, she could see the tiny scars running up his arms. Like tiny pinpricks. Track marks? Was he high on top of everything else?
“But Jase has been out for months,” she said, doing her best to sound calm. “Why strike at him now?”
“At first I didn’t mind that he was free.” Stan scratched at his arms. “I liked watching him, knowing he was miserable, suffering. But then you came along, and he smiled. He laughed. He shouldn’t have laughed.” Another step closer, more scratching. “You ruined everything.”
Have to act! Now!
Brook Lynn jumped forward and reached out to spray him in the face. He hissed, dropping the knife to rub at his eyes. She tried to grab it, but she moved so quickly her foot sent it flying.
A hand clamped around her calf, a shackle, tripping her. She fell, losing both the can and her breath upon landing. The guy maintained a hard grip on her and jerked her backward, even as she kicked. She slid across the floor, clawing for purchase, but he proved far stronger.
Stan lumbered to his feet and yanked her up by the hair. As he dragged her to the chair, picking up the knife along the way, she remembered what Jase had taught her about fighting zombies. As soon as Stan faced her, she planted one foot while hooking the other behind his leg. At the same time, she grabbed him by the neck with one hand and latched on to his wrist with the other. Then she shoved and kicked in unison. He fell back, trying to take her with him, but she released him and popped him in the mouth.
When he hit the ground, she raced to the doorway screaming, “Help us! Someone!”
Stan scrambled to get to her, but West must have awoken at the sound of her scream and sobered, because he leaped into action, snatching Stan by the ankle, tripping him.
“Brook Lynn, run,” West gritted out, subduing his prize.
“Brook Lynn!” Jase bellowed.
No, no. “Stay back.” She couldn’t let him give Stan what he wanted. But he didn’t stay back and she barreled into his chest, would have floundered backward if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her. He’d been running into the stall. He looked her over and then looked at Stan, who was still wrestling with West.
“You hurt her.” Just like that, Jase’s entire countenance morphed. From concerned to maddened beyond all control.
“No,” she said. “He didn’t hurt me. Let’s call for the guards and wait for the cops. Don’t go near him. Okay? Please. It’s what he wants.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. He stormed forward, as if he’d just been struck by a cattle prod. He wrenched Stan from West’s grip and slammed him into the floor, following him down so that the two were a tangle of limbs. Jase displayed masterful skill as he disarmed the other man in seconds. He should have backed off then, but he just...started...whaling. Blood sprayed from Stanton’s nose, filled his mouth.