Page 91 of Holding On

“What the hell are you doing here, Wells? And both of you know I hate when you talk to each other in Spanish in front of me. What are you talking about Australia for in Spanish? Fucking random bullshit. It’s fucking rude when you know I don’t understand it. Your mom always thought it was so funny when you two shits did that, but guess what? I fucking don’t. Your dad used to think it was funny to talk Spanish around me too, but who’s laughing now, huh?” He jabs his gun in my brother’s direction and Wells raises his hands innocently.

Australia? Wells didn’t say anything about Australia … oh! The words las estrellas probably sounded similar to Australia to Rick, but that’s not at all what Wells asked.

Why did Wells just ask me if I wanted to see the stars?

Jack.

Wells knows that Jack and I have snuggled on the rooftop a few times to watch the stars together, and he even sat with us for a couple of minutes after he finished a run in the gym the other night.

Jack’s on the rooftop.

I look up at my brother and he winks again before turning back to walk toward Kane, taking Rick’s focus with him. Rick obviously views Wells as a bigger threat, and his gun stays focused on my brother. He takes a few steps into the space connecting the kitchen and foyer to follow Wells but keeps me in his line of sight. This new position also puts Rick’s back to the wall of windows that look out to the terrace, but Rick can see the kitchen where I am, as well as the foyer where Kane is on the floor near the powder room. He also has a direct site of the elevator at the end of the foyer.

“Does someone want to catch me up as to why this bleeding piece of shit is a part of this very special family reunion?” Wells makes a circle motion with his finger that could apply to what he just said, but it doesn’t quite fit as he continues to take a few more steps closer to Kane, with Rick matching him step for step. I don’t know what’s going on, or if I just hit my head too hard on the floor with that last round of kicks from Rick, but if I trust any two people on this entire earth it’s my brother and Jack.

“This piece of shit? That’s rich! You’re the one that screwed me over in the first place!” Kane snivels from the floor. It looks like Kane is trying to pull himself up using one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, but his bullet wound is making it increasingly difficult to move. “You ruined … you ruined my life! When Rick approached me about working together, it was the first good thing that had happened since you assholes set me up and fired me.”

“Well, that’s extremely interesting, please, do go on. If you aren’t too busy bleeding all over my best friend’s floor, that is. I’d offer you a band-aid, but it looks a bit more extensive than that, Kane. However, I wouldn’t want our stepfather to call me rude again.” Wells tilts his head to Rick, whose vein is starting to throb again.

“I already had the connections from my time at Lux and those I cultivated after, he just needed the information—it really wasn’t that hard.” Once again, Kane is proving he does not know how to read Rick and his anger.

“You talk too fucking much,” Rick mutters as he walks over to Kane and raises his right hand that’s holding the gun. I flinch on instinct as his arm flies down, connecting the butt of the gun with Kane’s face. Judging by the thud, Rick pistol whipped him hard enough to knock him out, collapsing onto the floor near the barstool he was just trying to use to pull himself up. “He never shuts up.”

Wells seizes the opportunity of Rick’s focus shifting and launches himself at him, pivoting as he tackles him. He shoves Rick’s body across the foyer space and over the back of the large sectional that separates the kitchen and dining area from the living room as all hell breaks loose. The two men land on the other side of the couch, but as soon as they’re up on their feet, I watch in horror as Rick punches my brother in the jaw and Wells collapses to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“Wells!” I shriek for my brother in panic, scrambling to stand and get to him, which unfortunately draws Rick’s attention and rage back to me.

“You cause so much fucking trouble!” Rick screams—actually screams—at me before the all too familiar move of him raising his left hand and striking me across my face sends me back to the ground. He didn’t hit me with the hand that held the pistol and that choice ended up making all the difference.

Out of nowhere, Jack leaps around the corner from his office area and takes a fighting stance in the living room.

I hadn’t even heard Jack enter from the terrace, his appearance all but confirming that the hand gesture Wells made was some type of signal, letting whomever know that Rick could no longer see the entire length of the terrace—including the spiral staircase or the door that’s near Jack’s office area on the other side of the terrace.

Jack moves so quickly on his feet as though he possesses a strange mix of the power of a lion tracking his prey with the grace of a balanced gazelle that is completely centered and in control. The juxtaposition of the power and grace in his movements is simultaneously breathtaking and incredibly intimidating.

Rick initially doesn’t see Jack approach from behind him until Jack grabs hold of Rick’s right wrist, swiftly twisting it, trying to get him to drop the gun, causing Rick to simultaneously cry out in agony, and unfortunately, turning to throw a solid punch to Jack’s jaw with his left hand. Rick’s punch lands square to the side of Jack’s jaw, which causes Jack’s head to be thrown back as his body staggers momentarily, but he doesn’t let go of Rick’s other wrist holding the gun.

I refuse to be the scared little girl that Rick has bullied, threatened, and abused most of my life up to this point. But the only way I will be free is if we stop Rick, once and for all. I manage to push myself up, ignoring the stabbing pain in my left side from my likely broken ribs and the radiating pain in my back as I maneuver over to them as quickly as I’m able to force my body to move, despite my vision slightly blurring and the room appearing to sway a bit. I wipe a small trail of blood from the cut on my cheek that Rick’s last hit gave me, as Jack’s siblings’ words echo in my memory.

“And if you’re ever cornered by an asshole again, what do you do, Tinsley? And what do you aim for?” Finn crosses his arms with a grin as he waits for me to answer.

I take a deep breath and firmly nod in response. “I have options.”

“Yes, you do, honey,” Ryan adds with a proud nod.

I smile at the encouraging words. “I could go for an elbow strike, or heel-palm strike.” I mimic the movements as I respond with what has been drilled into me since they all insisted on teaching me a few things.

“What else?” Liam asks.

“A throat strike, or an eye jab,” I recite.

“And my favorite move, especially if the attacker is male?” Savannah chimes in with a smile.

“Groin kick.” Savannah gives me a high-five at my answer before pulling me into a hug.

She pulls back and looks at me proudly. “That’s right, girl, and you make sure it hurts like hell.”

With The Cavalry’s words of encouragement sparking a rush of bravery and adrenaline, I know I need to do my best to stop this asshole. I may not have footwear on for this, but with Jack behind Rick, pulling him backward in a struggle as they both try to get control of the gun, I think I can get close enough to throw a knee and make it hurt, at least hard enough to take him down to give Jack the opportunity to get the upper hand—or maybe for Wells to wake up. I use the armrest of the couch to pull myself up, biting my tongue to keep myself from crying out in pain as I stand.