I grabbed at the offending wrist and pushed my thumb into the pressure point right below the heel of the hand while I also took a better look inside.
Someone, Bobby probably, had thrown all of Ellie’s clothes into the laundry hamper on top of a washing machine in the middle of a row. A wet sock hung over one side of the basket, dripping slowly onto the white sheet steel.
“Hey!” The man owning the hand screamed.
He tried yanking his hand back. I pushed my thumb in harder.
It wasn’t that I was some kind of sadist intent on hurting him. Well, it did give me some satisfaction, I have to admit; he’d been one of the goons about to hurt Ellie and the thought of that turned the blood hot in my veins.
But mostly I wanted him to really get the message to stay away.
He yanked again, and this time I let him go. His own momentum carried him back into a dryer, which tipped back and smacked against the wall with a crash.
Bobby yanked the front door open. Fire blazed in his eyes when he caught sight of me.
“Let’s see how tough you are now that it’s a fair fight!” he shouted.
“It wasn’t fair when it was three on one?” I snarled. “What, did you bring a couple more guys along or something?”
His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. I could tell he was the sort of small town prince who usually got his way and didn’t know how to react when his brand of hayseed intimidation failed.
“No!” He blustered, “You don’t have any of that body armor now. I bet you can’t even take a punch.”
I shook my head even when I spotted the laundry hamper again. Get him riled up. Get him distracted. “I seem to recall your fist connecting with my face. Where I wasn’t wearing any armor.”
Then I saw Ellie through the front windows. She’d snuck around the building. If I could get Bobby to come closer, past where the hamper sat, Ellie could run in, grab it, and we could beat feet out of this place and away from Bobby and his boys.
We locked eyes for a moment, and I saw that she thought the same thing.
“Shut up,” Bobby said.
“Make me,” I replied.
Chapter 10
ELLIE
Out here, I couldn’t make out what they said inside.
I could see Bobby’s back. He was a big, strong guy and his shoulders filled out his jacket in a way that suggested that strength.
But Dash also looked strong. Right at that moment, he wore something like an insulting sneer on his face.
I couldn’t read any lips, but it looked like he said something like make me.
Make me? Make you what, Dash? I thought, squinting. I shot a quick look to either side in case Bobby’s other boy might make a sudden appearance. But I’d made him chase me a few minutes earlier and as far as I knew he still lay in a moaning, crumpled pile after I’d run him straight into the grill of my Ranger.
“Come on, Dash, the plan is to get my clothes, not get into another fight!” I said to no one but myself.
Although the prospect of watching Dash fight again made my stomach flutter and the blood quicken its pace in my veins.
“Oh!” I said before I could help it.
Bobby made a lunge for Dash, swinging a big haymaker with one fist.
Dash leaned back away from the punch and stepped back. I could hear Bobby roar in rage from outside.
He kept advancing on Dash, swinging his fists in big, clumsy windmills.
Oh, I thought when I realized what it was Dash was up to. Bobby was just about past my laundry basket.
As though to confirm my theory, Dash and I locked eyes again.
It was long enough for Bobby to connect a punch.
Dash jerked back a microsecond too late.
It was a glancing blow. Probably more surprising than painful. Still, my heart sped up, clamoring against my ribs.
Then Dash went through the back doorway. Bobby stood there, his big shoulders heaving with rage. He’s going to figure out what we’re up to, and I’ve been standing here slack jawed watching a couple of boys fight over me.
I ran inside. The bell over the door jingled. Every nerve in my body hummed with excitement. Bobby turned around at the noise.
“Ellie!”
I didn’t give him time for more. I grabbed the laundry basket. A soggy sock started falling out so I grabbed it and thrust it back in with the rest of the pile. It left my palm wet.
“Bye, Bobby,” I said.
He turned and ran for me. I yanked open the door hard enough for my shoulder to ache.
And then I ran down the alley. Dash, still standing at the back door, saw and joined me.
When I threw my clothes into the back of the truck I was smiling. My heart sang in my chest and my cheeks ached.
“Go! Go!” Dash said, pulling himself into the passenger seat and slamming the door hard enough for the truck to rock on its springs.
Won’t this be just the time for the battery to go flat on me? I thought. I hid my smile.
When I turned the key in the ignition, the engine fired right up.
I gave it a bit too much gas and we peeled away from the curb in a smelly cloud of burnt rubber.
“Hey, slow down, or our next mission will be picking up your underwear and socks from the road,” Dash said.
“What? Oh,” I replied, glancing in the rear view mirror. A few pieces of my clothes, including, embarrassingly enough, a few pairs of cotton panties, flapped dangerously on top of the basket, the wind threatening to yank them out and let them lie on the dusty, dirty road.
So I let off the gas and the flapping stopped.
He’s seen my underwear now, I thought. My cheeks started pulsing, wanting to blush. They couldn’t, though. I still couldn’t stop smiling, and while my cheeks ached from the effort of it, it also kept the color out of them. A mixed blessing.
And Dash was smiling, too.
Once I caught sight of it, I couldn’t help glancing. He really was a handsome man, and he had this incredible, infectious smile that showed off a set of perfect teeth. There were dimples, too. The kind that added just a touch of boyishness to an otherwise masculine set of features.
My heart and stomach started flipping around inside of me.
If he ever looked like that boy I thought I might know from the park—and… more? I wasn’t sure — it was when he smiled like that.
I suppose that it also didn’t hurt that he was a bit winded from all the excitement. His chest and shoulders swelled and filled out his shirt with each breath. And the flush of color in his face.
I don’t know, he just seemed so alive.
“What?” he asked, catching me watching him.
A blade of sensation ran up my chest. I’ve been caught! I wanted to laugh again. Instead, I tried to force the corners of my mouth down and put my eyes back on the road.
My fingers found the familiar grooves in the Ranger’s steering wheel. Finger grooves worn thin first by my dad’s hands, and then mine.
“It’s nothing. You have a nice smile,” I said.
And with that, the spell broke. He realized that he was, in fact, smiling. His lips dropped to a neutral position and he leaned back against the seat. He turned away from me and made like he was counting the cracks in the sidewalk while we drove past.
“It’s okay, you know. To smile, I mean,” I said, feeling like I needed to say something.