Page 119 of Five Brothers

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Page 119 of Five Brothers

“It’s a surprise.”

I open the front passenger-side front door and haul myself up, forcing Dallas over.

“Gimme a break,” he growls.

“Take Lamplight Glen,” I tell Army.

I see him staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I crank up the radio as a song I like comes on.

Shifting into gear, he hits the gas, and I fist the bat as he speeds out of my driveway, takes a right, and jumps onto Lamplight Glen. My palms sweat, but I turn up the music more, and even Dallas just stares at me like he’s not sure I won’t kill him if he touches the dial.

“Take another right,” I order.

Army cuts a sharp turn, and I hear the tires skid as he charges onto Barony Lane.

“Stop,” I tell him.

“Wha—”

“Stop right here!” I yell.

He hits the brakes next to a silver Bentley Continental parked in front of a quaint, Spanish-style brick cottage, a beautiful little piece of heaven made for two.

I hop out.

“What are you doing?” Army shouts.

The music pumps, the night air blows through the palms overhead,and I swing the bat back, bringing it down hard onto the driver’s side window. It smashes through, the glass shattering, and I hear a bunch of swearing go off inside the truck.

“Oh, son of a bitch,” says one.

“We’re going to jail.”

“Krisjen!”

I grind my fists into the handle of the bat and throw my arms behind my head one more time before swinging hard, crashing the end through the windshield.

Whipping around, I climb back into the truck, everyone staring at me.

Trace speaks first. “Was that …?”

“Mm-hm,” I reply.

“Why did you do that?” Paisleigh asks.

I flip the visor down, forcing my breathing to even out as I check the lipstick I don’t actually have on. “A friend locked their keys inside. I was helping them get in.”

And I flip the visor back up.

“That was Dad’s car,” Mars says.

“Looked just like it, didn’t it?”

Army snorts, drives off, and I see Dallas shake his head. Trace starts laughing, and I lean my head out the window, closing my eyes and letting the wind blow through my hair.

“Who wants ice cream?” Trace calls out.

“Me!” Paisleigh cries.




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