The Handoff (Big Play #3)

by Jordan Ford

  Her brown eyes glimmer with a playful smile. “You’re going to be one of those guys who opens my door every time, aren’t you?”

  “You bet. My daddy taught me how to treat a lady right.”

  She laughs at the southern drawl I put on then leans her head against my arm as we descend the slope. I hold her hand tight, making sure she doesn’t slip. I love the feel of her against me. She’s so delicate, and even though she’s not super short like Pix, Layla’s a shrimp beside me and I’ve got to admit that I really love how she has to get on her tiptoes to kiss me. I love that I can swing my arm over her shoulders and she nestles in against my chest—the perfect fit.

  I’m just thinking about doing that when a movement to my left makes me stop. I turn in time to see a dark blue car pulling into the lot. My muscles ping tight the instant I realize it’s the same one that was parked outside the Butler’s house.

  It swerves to a stop and the four doors pop open in unison to reveal the last thing I want to see. Two large Brownridge Bears players hop out of the back while Quaid Miller emerges from behind the steering wheel and Derek-frickin-Wisedick steps out of the passenger side.

  Layla sucks in a sharp breath and stops breathing.

  How the hell he got away from his irate father, I don’t know. It doesn’t even matter really; it’s not going to change the fact that we’re in deep shit.

  I squeeze Layla’s hand, trying to tell her everything will be okay. But as I eye the four Bears players descending on us, I have to admit that the odds are seriously not in my favor.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little tattletale and her dumbass thief. Now, I don’t know how the hell you got those photos, black boy. I’ve got my guesses, but you know what I can guarantee you guys right now?” Derek leans forward with this smarmy, punchable smirk on his face. “You’re gonna pay for making me look bad.” Running a finger under his nose, he then points at Layla with a dark smile. “I’m going to start with you. I’ve got my little friends here to hold back the bull while I finish what I was trying to start on Friday night.”

  Layla flinches, a tendon in her neck looking ready to snap.

  “And then we’ll end this afternoon’s events with a four-on-one bash down of the black beast.”

  The brainless goons behind Derek snicker, one of them mumbling some racist remark that makes Quaid laugh.

  I don’t even have the urge to be offended by it. I’m too busy worrying about Layla. Shifting my weight, I try to subtly move her behind me, but she won’t budge. Her body is rigid, her eyes trained on Derek as her chest heaves. At least she’s breathing again.

  “Layla,” I quietly murmur. “You’ve got to run.”

  “No,” she whispers back.

  “I can’t defend myself and protect you at the same time. There are too many of them. You’ve got to run.”

  I’m talking out the side of my mouth while Derek makes some derogatory comment I miss. He turns to look at his friends while I nudge Layla with my elbow and let go of her hand.

  She won’t loosen her grip on me, though, so I have to turn and drill her with a look that’s freaking primal. “Please, run for me, baby. You gotta run.”

  I do the last thing I want and shove her away from me. She stumbles but rights herself before falling, then gives me this desperate, soul-ripping stare before spinning and taking off into the forest.

  “Hey!” Derek yells, but before he can give chase, I charge at him with a feral cry, my arms outstretched in the hope of taking at least two of them down before going after the others. It’s gonna hurt and it won’t be pretty, but I’ll fight like a freaking caveman in order to protect my girl.

  #33:

  Fight Back

  Layla

  My boots smack against the uneven earth as I race through the trees. I don’t want to run. Everything in me is telling me to go back and help Finn, but fear is driving me forward, making me whimper. If I had a phone I’d call Mack, but I left my bag at Finn’s place. Dammit!

  Tears collect on my lashes, and it’s hard to see through the watery sheen. The trees are blurring, and the brown, undulating ground is becoming that much harder to negotiate.

  Whipping my head around to look over my shoulder, I can hear the sound of someone crashing through the forest after me. I worry that it’s Derek. The dark look in his eye as he threatened me was nearly paralyzing. He slapped me twice on Friday night, lashing out at me as rage got the better of him. I had no idea he had more in mind. The thought is terrifying and makes me pump my arms a little harder.

  “Ah!” I cry out as a root snags my toe and I lurch forward. My knee hits the ground, sending a shock of pain vibrating up my thigh. “Shit.” I scramble up on shaking legs. My pants are torn and dark red blood is oozing into the denim, blending with the mud stains. My palms are stinging, making my fingers quiver. It won’t stop me running…

  But…

  “I don’t frickin’ want to,” I spit out the words, slashing at my tears as I’m reminded of all the times I’ve run in the last month.

  It’s my first instinct and yeah, it may have saved me, but it never put an end to what Derek was doing. In fact, the only thing to hinder his ugly plans was me standing my ground and exposing his lies. It was really hard, but it wasn’t impossible.

  I stare into the forest and picture myself running back to the parking lot.

  “Finn,” I whisper his name, fear for his safety roiling my stomach. I grit my teeth, my fingers curling into fists as I imagine what they’re doing to him right now.

  “I can’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t run anymore.”

  I may be a pathetic weakling, afraid of everything, but I love that guy and the thought of him getting punished or hurt because of me is too much.

  Stumbling back the way I came, I ignore my throbbing heart as the pounding feet grow closer. I spot the top of Quaid’s head and duck behind a tree, pressing my back against the trunk and biting my lips against my whimper. Scanning the ground around me, I look for anything I can use as a weapon. Nothing jumps out at me and I’m forced to make a split-second decision. As Quaid dashes past my hiding spot, I jump on his back, digging my nails into the side of his neck and going completely Catwoman on his ass.

  He lets out a sharp cry as I claw him but manages to throw me off his shoulder. I hit the ground with a thud, pain rocketing down my spine, and somehow manage to roll away when he lunges at me.

  Scrambling to my knees, I brace for his attack, bunching my fists and feeling like a total novice as he looms over me. Grabbing my shirt, he drags me through the dirt until my cheek smacks against the fly of his jeans.

  He snickers, but I cut off his derogatory comment the only way I can…by thrusting my fist into his balls. He jolts, letting out this high-pitched kind of yelp before letting me go and dropping to his knees. I take advantage of my lucky shot and snap tall, placing my hands on his face, and with all the force I can muster I shove him into a tree trunk. His head hits the wood and he flops backwards.

  “Shit, it worked,” I whisper, dropping down beside him to check if he’s still alive.

  There’s a small welt on his forehead, but he’s not bleeding. He lets out this groggy moan and squeezes his eyes shut while reaching for his forehead.

  “You psycho bitch,” he mutters.

  I shuffle back from him, then change my mind as an idea hits me. He tries to bash my hands away as I dig into his jeans pockets, but I flick him off and yank out his phone. I’m just opening the screen when his fingers snap around my wrist and start digging in until pain radiates up my arm.

  “Let me go,” I snarl.

  His upper lip curls into an ugly line and he pulls me to the ground. So, I do the only psycho bitch thing I can think of. Lurching forward, I sink my teeth into the fingers locked around my wrist.

  “Ow!” he screams. Releasing me in a flash, he nurses his hand against his chest and stares at me like I’m some creature he’s never seen before. There’s a dazed confusion lurking on h
is face as he mutters, “You’ve never fought like this before.”

  I don’t know what he means by that and I don’t really have time to stop and find out. I start dialing for home as I run back to Finn.

  Mack answers after four rings. “Hello.” His voice is flat and uninterested.

  “Mack, it’s Lay! Finn’s in trouble! Derek and his assholes are beating the living shit out of him.”

  After a micro-pause, Mack’s tone completely changes and he barks at me, “Where are you guys?”

  “The lake,” I yell, jumping over a tree root. “It’s the private entrance you guys found last summer or something. I don’t know exactly where it is. Can you call the police and describe it to them?”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course. Just hang tight, I’m coming.”

  The line goes dead as Mack hangs up on me. Knowing he’s on his way helps settle me some, but it’s not enough to quell the storm surging inside of me. Shoving Quaid’s phone into my back pocket, I race along the path and don’t slow my approach until I can hear the grunts and crunch of knuckles on flesh. My insides spasm as I see Derek drive his fist into Finn’s stomach.

  My boyfriend folds in half with a pitiful groan, but he can’t hit the ground because the two other mammoths are holding him up by his arms, keeping him upright so Derek can use him as a punching bag.

  I cover my quivering lips with the back of my hand and creep forward. I don’t know how I’m supposed to help him, but I have to think of something before they do any permanent damage.

  Derek’s mouth curves with a malicious smile as he bunches his fist and gets ready to smash it into Finn’s face. Before he can make his move, I dash into the parking lot and scream, “Stop!”

  #34:

  Beautiful Vampire Girl

  Finn

  Layla!

  Fear spikes through my aching body, pumping a fresh wave of adrenaline through me. Flexing my arms with a warrior-like growl, I start writhing against the two guys holding me. My ferocious movements throw the left guy enough for me to shove him off me. I kick out with my leg, clipping his knee. He buckles to the ground with a grunt while I turn my fist on the other guy.

  I know Layla’s behind me somewhere, but I can’t see her. I need to take these guys down fast so I can get to her side. Raising my arm, I fend off a power punch. It knocks me back a little and I’m only just finding my feet when I’m jumped from behind.

  With a loud cry, I spin and throw the guy over my shoulder.

  Layla screams to my left. I jerk tall and turn to find her on the ground beneath Derek. He’s straddling her waist and fighting her flailing arms. She’s kicking back and thrusting, trying to buck him off her.

  My eyes round as I watch him crunch his knuckles into her cheek, dazing her enough to pin her hands above her head so he can slap her again.

  “You think showing those photos to Mommy’s going to save you?” he yells. “You clueless bitch!”

  My growl is freaking feral as I run towards him. Dropping my shoulder, I aim it straight at his head. We drop to the ground together, Layla caught beneath my legs as I get ready to pummel the guy. I’ve never been so enraged in my life. Seeing him hit Layla and yell at her like that? The guy has to suffer some. It’s only right.

  I raise my fist, about to drive it into his stark white face when I’m grabbed from behind. They pull at my clothes and neck, making my eyes sting as they haul me off Derek. I wrestle and thrash, but I’m not strong enough to fight off two guys at once, not after the pounding I’ve just endured. An iron fist catches me in the side and I drop with a grunt.

  “Let him go! You—” Layla’s screaming is cut off by Derek as he jumps up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She fights and kicks, clipping him in the shin and scratching his bare forearms with her nails. I’ve never seen her so feisty.

  “No!” she yells as he carries her off into the woods.

  I struggle against the guys holding me, feebly yelling out her name. “Layla!”

  A fist drives into my face, shutting me up. It’s hard to see through the daze and I blink to clear my vision.

  “Get off me!” Layla shrieks.

  I can’t see her anymore and it’s a new kind of torture. I’d take physical pain any day over this helpless feeling. Layla screams again and my heart twists so tight I think it might stop working.

  But then Derek lets out a high-pitched squeal. “Ahh! Get back here!”

  Layla races into view. Her shirt is torn and sagging over her shoulder, exposing her blue cotton bra. My gut clenches when I notice her swollen lips, smeared red with blood. Her eyes are wild when they connect with mine, but there’s a strength inside them I’ve never seen before.

  “Let him go.” Her voice is low and husky, making the guys around me snicker.

  She bunches her fists, ready to charge as Derek stumbles into view, blood dripping down his chin from a very swollen, angry lower lip.

  I want to laugh, but my aching body can’t manage more than a breathy snicker.

  The blood has obviously unnerved the guys holding me because their arms go a little slack as they gape at my beautiful vampire girl.

  “Freaking psycho,” the guy behind us murmurs. I hear a scuffling of feet. “Screw this.”

  I swear the coward’s about to ditch them all when the sound of a racing engine quickly approaches. Mack’s blue and orange Camaro roars into the lot, followed by Colt’s truck. The doors snap open and my friends appear with thunderous looks on their faces. All three of them are ready to brawl, their fierce faces enough to scare off mountain lions.

  Mack takes one look at Layla’s torn shirt and blood-smeared face and then starts towards Derek. “You’re a dead man.”

  The Raiders all jump into action, lunging after the Bears. It should have turned into a full-blown fight, and I was just finding my second wind when the sound of wailing sirens jerks us all apart.

  Panicked swear words ring out in the air as the Bears players scramble for their car. Quaid appears from the forest, staggering into the clearing and urged on by the shouts of his friends. He stumbles across to the car while Derek yanks the driver’s door open.

  But not in time.

  Two police cars jerk to a stop across the only exit. Relief floods through me when I gaze at those red and blue flashing lights. Crumpling to the dirt with a soft hiss, I palm my aching side.

  “Finn.” Layla drops to her knees beside me, cradling my head against her chest. “Are you okay, baby?”

  I skim my fingers down her arm. “I’m gonna be fine,” I whisper.

  She kisses the top of my head then presses her cheek against it. I can feel her tears soaking into my short hair. For once, they don’t hurt so bad.

  It’s over.

  Layla’s safe. I’ll live, and Derek can’t touch us again. He can try, but my girl’s found her fight and he’s not getting away with shit anymore.

  “You alright, man?” Colt crouches down in front of us, concern crinkling his expression.

  I nod, giving him a thumbs-up.

  Tyler snickers, lightly kicking my shoe. “We don’t call you Tank for nothing, dude. Now let’s get your ass to the hospital.”

  I groan as Layla moves beneath me. She’s trying to stand and help me up at the same time, but I’m going to need more than her trembling pigeon arms. A strong hand catches my back, hauling me to my feet and then draping my arm over his shoulders. I lean against our quarterback and murmur, “Thanks, man.”

  He gives me an earnest look that we’ll no doubt chat about later, but for now, it’s enough.

  I’m forgiven, and Mack’s grateful I was willing to take a beating for his lil’ sis.

  #35:

  Finn’s Not Stupid

  Layla

  The hospital is noisy and chaotic.

  Tyler, Colt, and Mack are acting like presidential bodyguards as they follow Finn and me into the emergency room. An ambulance drove us, and an EMT notified our parents along the
way. I can’t think about them showing up right now; I just need to focus on getting Finn some medical attention. The paramedics are already talking to nursing staff while Finn puts on a brave face, but I can tell by his silent wincing that he’s in pain.

  I look at his stoic face while he gingerly takes a seat in the hard, plastic waiting room chair. He cradles his ribs again, his face bunching tight.

  Derek and his frickin’ goons treated him like a punching bag while I was running away. I hate them for it, and the urge to smash more heads and bite more lips surges through me. Pinching my arms, I take a seat next to Finn, my leg bobbing erratically.

  This is all my fault.

  Derek was after me, and Finn just happened to get in the way of that. All I’ve got to show for it are a few scratches, a grazed knee, and a bruised-up face. The way Finn’s moving, he’s most likely got cracked ribs.

  I lift my torn shirt, trying to cover my shoulder, when Derek and Quaid are walked in. Their ambulance was escorted by a police car while the other two Bears players are still stuck at the lake answering questions with the remaining officers.

  Thankfully, Derek doesn’t even look at me as he’s marched across the linoleum floor and taken into a side room so his lip can be attended to.

  When he pressed me against that tree and tried to shove his tongue down my throat, I fought like a wild cat. I’m pretty sure he was just trying to rattle me. I have no idea how far he would have taken things, but I wasn’t about to let him. He tore my shirt trying to hold me in place, and I screamed at him to get off me. He just gave me that wicked grin of his before coming toward my mouth again. I acted on pure instinct.

  I’m going to have to freaking sterilize my teeth when I get home. Will a whole tube of toothpaste be enough to scrub Derek’s blood out of my system?

  Brushing the back of my hand over my tender lips, I close my eyes to ward off the sickening memory. I should be proud of myself for putting up such a good fight, but I still feel queasy.