“Enough,” Oaks growls. “Brother, enough.”
“He wants the kid.”
“I know.”
“August is scared of him.”
“I know.”
“He called Amelia a whore.”
“I know.”
Jeremy slides down the wall, coughing blood and smiling like a man who knows the camera above the door saw enough.
Sirens cut through the air.
Of course.
Deputy Dix pulls in hard, cruiser tires spitting gravel and water. Twila is out before the car fully settles, one hand on her taser, the other near her gun, eyes taking in everything.
Jeremy on the ground.
Blood on my knuckles.
Oaks holding me back.
Wildcat wiping blood from his cheek where my elbow caught him.
Twila’s face goes tight.
Not surprised.
Disappointed, maybe.
That pisses me off worse.
“Derby,” she says.
“Deputy.”
Jeremy coughs. “He attacked me. I want charges.”
I lunge.
Oaks clamps down harder. “Don’t.”
Twila steps between me and Jeremy like she has a death wish and excellent boots.
“Hands behind your back,” she says.
I laugh once. “Deputy, if you wanted me in cuffs, you could’ve bought me dinner first.”
Her eyes don’t move from mine. “Keep talking, Derby. I’ll add stupid in public to the charges.”
Wildcat snorts.
Oaks sighs like I have personally aged him ten years.