Hunting Human - Amanda E. Alvarez [48]
Short, solid and heavy.
Perfect.
She tightened her hands around the jack. If Braden thought she was going to come quietly, he had another think coming.
And it’s coming for your head.
Chapter Twelve
“Think you can handle her?” Chase asked as Braden killed the engine.
Braden stepped out of the car and slid an ugly look toward Chase. “I can manage. She’s probably not even conscious—you hit her pretty hard with the Taser.”
“Yeah, well, keep it handy,” Chase said, tossing the Taser over the car.
“I’m sure I can manage.” Braden snatched it out of the air as he walked toward the trunk. “Go intercept Mom—she’s opening the storm door on the porch.”
“Braden, Chase?” Their mother’s clear voice preceded her out the door and down the front steps. “What on earth are the two of you doing here?”
Braden waited until Chase started herding her back into the house before he clicked the trunk release. He carefully lifted the lid, keeping one eye on the front of the house, completely unprepared for Beth to push the lid out of his grasp and leap at him.
“Shit!” Braden swore as he struggled to get the Taser up and the safety released. Something solid and heavy glanced off the side of his head and sent him reeling, black spots ghosting across his vision.
What the hell did she hit me with?
He hit his knees, his fingers automatically probing at the blood pouring down the side of his face.
“Fuck.” He tried to push to his feet and grab Beth, his fingers snagging the back of her shirt. She whirled on him, hands raised high, clutching a car jack like a mace, ready to swing again.
“Don’t even…” Braden growled as she stepped in and swung at his head. He ducked beneath the blow and leaped at her knees, falling short as she scrambled back. She kept her weapon raised against him as she backpedaled, keeping the road to her back and scanning wildly for an escape route.
Braden saw the moment she realized they were isolated. She tightened her jaw and widened her stance. Regripping the jack, she lifted her chin as if to say bring it on.
Braden felt Chase approach him on his right, circling in to cut her off from the driveway and the road beyond. The moment her eyes went to his brother, Braden lunged again, throwing his body into her and bearing her to the ground.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Slowly, Braden pulled back, straddled her hips and rolled her to face him. She struggled for breath beneath him, eyes dazed and glassy. She forced out a sound—half sob, half battle cry—and tried to swing the jack at his head again.
“Stop it, Beth,” he commanded, catching her wrist before the blow connected.
Clearly exhausted, Beth went limp and the jack clattered to the pavement. Finally, resignation. The expression on her face hit him like a physical blow.
Don’t go there.
Frustrated, he forced himself to look away. He hoisted them both to their feet and began to half drag, half carry her toward the house.
“Braden Anthony Edwards.”
Braden’s cringed at the use of his full name. His mother stood on the porch, stance wide, hands on her hips, pummeling him with a stare of disapproval. The idle onlooker would have seen a petite woman in her mid-fifties sporting a modern blond bob, fashionable jeans and a bright green polo shirt smudged with flour. Braden recognized her for what she was: a five-foot-four-inch pixie with a temper to rival Angie’s.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Don’t you hi, Mom me!” His mother matched his stride as he dragged Beth toward the door. “Explain yourself, immediately.”
“Not now, Mom.” Braden huffed. Beth became a dead weight against him. He braced for the incoming explosion of yelling and heaved her over his shoulder.
“Gently!” His mother’s rebuke came, sharp enough to cut steel. “Now explain yourself. You pulled that poor girl out of the trunk of your car. The trunk, Braden!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Braden rolled his eyes at Chase and stomped through the door. “Ow!” Braden winced at the sharp pinch his mother applied to the back of his arm.
“Mind your tone.”
Braden tried to ignore