This We Will Defend [Book 2] Read online

  John laughed. “That was subtle.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” Alan snarled.

  “I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise.”

  “I know you won’t, John,” Alan said. He patted the young man on the shoulder. “I know you won’t.”

  Lee pulled the car up in front of the Dodson home and found one of a few remaining spots to park. Cars lined a circular driveway that was lit up like an airport runway, and the overflow parking spilled out haphazardly into the street. The house was enormous and the sound of blaring music seemed to extend from every open door and window.

  After parking the car, John and Lee made their way to the house. They snaked through the hordes of teenagers on the front lawn and entered through the garage door, stopping where a large group had amassed around a couple of beer kegs. Lee, a varsity football player who easily outsized the present majority, pushed his way through the group and helped himself to a cup of beer from the keg. He turned around and motioned to John.

  “You want one?” he asked in a voice loud enough to overcome the music and crowd noise.

  John nodded his head timidly.

  “Hold this for a second,” Lee told a random girl standing beside him, and handed her his cup. He then poured another cup of beer, took the other cup from the girl, thanked her, and pushed his way back through the crowd while holding both cups above everyone’s heads. He handed a cup to John, who took it and swirled the foamy contents around.

  “Waiting in line is for simpletons,” Lee said. “When you’re ready for a refill, just let me know.”

  John took a small sip of the beer in his cup, soon realizing that he hadn’t yet acquired a taste for it.

  “You good?” his brother asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to go mingle, then,” Lee said. “Text me if you need me.”

  John nodded and watched as his brother walked off. He never knew Lee was such a party animal.

  John made his way inside and into a large recreation room complete with two pool tables and an assortment of arcade-style games along the wall. He walked up to a billiards game in progress and signaled to one of the players that he wanted to get in the game.

  “We’re playing for money,” the player said.

  John reached into his pocket and held out a twenty-dollar bill.

  Lauren stood closely beside Hunter near the Dodsons’ Olympic-sized swimming pool. Ever since showing up to the party, he’d been ignoring her and she’d grown irritated. When he’d notice that she was getting peeved with him, Hunter would put his arm around her or kiss Lauren on the cheek in a coy attempt to pacify her, and that only served to irritate her even more. Girls would constantly walk up to Hunter and hug him and make it a point for her to see them as they flaunted themselves. Lauren didn’t like the looks she would get from them. It didn’t help that she was still in junior high school, and most of the kids here were older than her. She felt uncomfortable and unwanted here, but she was happy that she’d been allowed to go and experience a real party for the first time, along with her first real boyfriend.

  One of Hunter’s friends, a guy that Lauren recognized but didn’t know by name, came over and whispered something in Hunter’s ear with a large smile on his face. Hunter nodded and turned to Lauren.

  “Babe, I gotta go take care of something for a minute,” he said. “You don’t mind hanging out for a while until I get back, do you? I’ll be right back.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Lauren said, ignoring how she truly felt.

  As Hunter pranced merrily off, Lauren sighed and looked down into the cup of beer that she’d been holding since she arrived. It was nearing half-empty and had gotten warm. She didn’t want to be alone right now.

  She slid herself through the crowds of inebriated teenagers and made her way to the wide staircase that led to the deck. From there, Lauren walked inside and into the recreation room. When she turned to head for the garage, she noticed John was playing a game of pool and was lined up for a shot on the eight ball. John’s opponent cursed loudly and handed him a twenty-dollar bill as John sank the eight. John smiled broadly and held up his cup, scanning the room for his next opponent.

  Lauren smiled contently when she saw John. She immediately felt better just knowing that he was here. It was nice to see a familiar face in this party full of obnoxious strangers. She walked over to the pool table where he stood, and when she approached, he froze.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  John shrugged. “Making a little money.”

  “I never knew you shot pool.”

  “I do—sorta,” John said. “I get lucky sometimes.”

  Lauren counted seven striped balls on the table, no solids, and she’d seen the eight ball fall when John shot it. In a game of eight ball, she knew this typically only meant one thing.

  “Looks like you ran the table, to me,” said Lauren.

  John beamed. “Like I said…I get lucky sometimes.”

  “My dad taught me how to play, you know,” Lauren bragged. “I go with him sometimes on league nights.”

  John smiled and picked up the triangle rack, then slid it across the table to her. “Rack ’em, then.”

  Lauren set down her drink and proceeded to rack the balls as John removed the balls from the pockets and gently rolled them to her. The pair played a game, and that game turned into another. They laughed together, and the entire rowdy world that surrounded them dissolved into white noise.

  Some games belonged to Lauren, others to John—both of their skills as young pool players being close to evenly matched.

  After six consecutive games, Lauren put her cue stick in the rack on the wall and stood next to John. She pulled her beer to her mouth and took a sip and instantly regretted doing so. “Gross. It’s way too warm.”

  “Guess we forgot about them. Want me to get you another?”

  Lauren shrugged. “I think I’m done,” she said. “It’s really not my thing, and I definitely don’t want my dad to smell beer on my breath when I get home.”

  John nodded. “I don’t blame you,” he said. He took in the scenery in the room for a moment and then a thought occurred to him. He didn’t want to ask, but decided to anyway. “So did Hunter leave or something?”

  Lauren’s face turned white as a ghost. “Oh, shit.”

  She began to look around the room. She hurried over to the open French doors that led out to the deck and walked across the deck through the crowd to look down at the pool. Hunter was nowhere in sight. She then walked back to the door and over to John.

  “He didn’t actually leave you here, did he?” John asked, his tone signifying his displeasure.

  “I don’t know,” Lauren said, sounding confused. “I’m going to go look for him.”

  “If you need a ride home, find me,” John said. “We won’t leave without you.”

  Lauren smiled uncomfortably and then jetted off in search of her missing boyfriend. She looked everywhere she thought to look on the first floor of the mansion and then went upstairs and began opening random doors. Some of the rooms’ occupants were less than thrilled with her intrusions. When Lauren opened the final door at the end of the hallway, a girl poked her head out from under a white blanket. Lauren summarily recognized her as being one of the young ladies who’d given Hunter a hug tonight and, while doing so, had given her a particularly dirty look.

  “What the freak? Get out!” the girl shrieked at Lauren.

  “Lock the door next time, bitch,” Lauren spouted as she slammed the door.

  Lauren walked back down the elaborate staircase to the foyer of the home and then made her way around the house in search of the stairs that led to the basement. It was the only place she hadn’t checked yet.

  Entering the kitchen, she opened one door after another until she found a dimly lit staircase. She could hear yelling and cheering fill the empty hall. She started down the stairs cautiously—the sounds becoming more pronounced as
she descended. She reached for the knob on the door at the bottom of the stairs and turned it. The door opened, and what she discovered behind it was something she’d only seen before in movies.

  The floors and walls of the basement were covered in thick, brightly colored foam matting. A crowd of teenagers stood before her, much larger than what she’d experienced anywhere else in the house. By lifting herself onto her tiptoes, she could see two shirtless young men engaged in an intense hand-to-hand fight. In an adjacent circle stood two young ladies decorated in sparring gear. They were beating each other senseless. Hunter was nowhere to be found from her current point of view. As Lauren took a step forward into the crowd to get a better look at the spectators nearest the circle, something hit her in the head from behind. Stars filled her vision and she fell face-first to the foam mat in front of her, landing between the two scuffling boys.

  Lauren was stunned, but managed to roll herself over and decipher what had happened to her through her blurred vision. The two shirtless fighters had vacated the mat, and now, standing over her was the girl that she’d walked in on moments earlier. The same girl that had yelled at her. The same girl she’d seen hug her boyfriend earlier. And she’d brought a couple of friends with her.

  “So I’m a bitch, huh?” the girl barked. “What do you think now? You gonna say it to my face?”

  Lauren touched her face to check for blood and rubbed her nose to see if it was broken. She continued to check herself out while the girls near her traded taunting stares at each other and nasty ones at her. The leader got down on one knee and grabbed Lauren by her hair.

  “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” she asked. “Aren’t you in middle school?”

  Lauren struggled. “Let go of my hair,” she demanded.

  The girl only tightened her grip. As Lauren struggled, she saw Hunter emerge from the crowd.

  “Hunter!” Lauren screamed. “Tell her to let me go!”

  Hunter laughed. “You got yourself into this mess. Get yourself out of it.”

  Lauren felt absolutely humiliated. People were now pointing, laughing, and saying awful things. At first, and for several seconds after, she didn’t know what to do. Then, it hit her.

  In a flash, Lauren reached up and grabbed a handful of her attacker’s hair. She pulled hard on it, pulling the girl off her center of gravity and down to the ground. With her attacker now stunned, Lauren yanked on the girl’s hair from behind, causing her head to angle backward enough to expose her windpipe. Lauren then struck her in the throat.

  The girl gasped and gagged and ultimately released her grip on Lauren’s hair. Lauren stood up and moved away and soon found Hunter’s face in the crowd. He was smiling at her.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad.”

  Lauren pushed her way past the girls as they went to their friend’s aid and put herself directly in Hunter’s face. She could smell the liquor on his breath.

  “Thanks for the help,” said Lauren. “You wanna tell me where you’ve been all night?”

  “I’ve been around,” he replied while displaying his signature shit-eating grin.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Hunter chuckled deviously. “It means I’ve been around.”

  Lauren was outraged. She slapped Hunter in the face, and his chuckle subsided. His grin disappeared.

  “That’s not cool,” she said to him. “I’ve been all over this house, looking for you. I thought you left me.”

  Hunter looked around and noticed that his altercation was now getting some attention. He glared at Lauren. It was showtime.

  “You don’t slap me,” he growled. His eyes narrowed. “Do you understand—you don’t slap me!”

  Lauren didn’t respond. She’d had enough, and after everything that had happened, she just wanted to go home. She began looking for an exit, but each time she tried to move, Hunter adjusted his position to obstruct her. She jerked away and started to walk around him, but was pulled to a stop when he grabbed her arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he badgered.

  Lauren jerked against his grip but couldn’t break it. He only clamped down harder when he felt her struggle.

  “Let go of me, Hunter!”

  Hunter laughed and pulled on her arm, tossing her like a rag doll into a group of people near the fight circle. Lauren recovered quickly. As she began to move toward Hunter, the girl who’d attacked her moved to intercept.

  “Are you still wondering why you’re here?” the girl asked as she rubbed her throat where Lauren had hit her.

  Lauren didn’t respond. She crossed her arms over her chest. She could feel her heart beating rapidly inside her rib cage.

  “Let me enlighten you. Your boyfriend…isn’t your boyfriend,” the girl spat. “Actually…he’s my boyfriend. And you got yourself caught up in a game you can’t win, honey.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened. She watched as Hunter’s arms wrapped around the girl before her. She didn’t want to believe what she was seeing. This whole night had been a waste. The past several weeks had been a waste. She’d been betrayed. She wanted to say something, but there was nothing left to be said. Lauren turned to walk away again, but Hunter stopped her. With her free arm, Lauren retaliated. She drew back and punched him in the jaw as hard as she could.

  Hunter recoiled. And not even a second later, he returned the favor. His fist met Lauren’s face with enough energy to literally lift her off her feet. Lauren landed hard on the ground as she absorbed the instant, agonizing pain in her jaw. Sounds around her began to turn into echoes. Her vision went blurry again. She tried to pull herself up, but vertigo had taken her over.

  After the initial feeling of shock subsided, Lauren slowly started to upright herself. A few drops of blood escaped her mouth and landed on the mat below her. She could hear laughing and cheering all around and didn’t know if either were aimed at her, but assumed they were. Now she really didn’t want to be here anymore.

  Before she knew it, her original attacker was back in her face, taunting her. Lauren was as angry as she’d ever been and wanted more than anything to just put her down for good. A seasoned martial-arts student, Lauren knew that she was capable.

  Time seemed to slow down around her for a moment. Lauren recalled one of many lessons she’d learned as a self-defense student. Her instructor, who refused to let anyone call him sensei, was a third-degree black belt in Chinese Kempo. ‘Buddy’ Lloyd had always taught her and her classmates that the most important technique was knowing how to choose your battles. The art of Kempo had helped Lauren develop self-confidence and, as well, learn self-control. Restraint was the only thing keeping her from killing the girl who stood before her now.

  Lauren was beginning to understand that she’d been brought here only as a spectacle. She didn’t want to fight, but she’d been deceived, and now she was backed into a corner. If this was going to happen here, it was going to end here. It was what her father would do. It was what she’d been trained to do. It was what she was going to do.

  Lauren turned and began to walk through the crowd of onlookers toward the open fight circle. This girl had hit her from behind once—Lauren knew if given the opportunity, she’d do it again. When she felt the girl’s arm move around her neck, Lauren dropped to one knee and tossed the girl’s body over her shoulder and onto the mat. Lauren stepped back and waited for the girl to return to her feet. When she did, Lauren kicked just behind her knee and her leg buckled. As the girl began to fall, Lauren smacked her—open handed—in the face. The smack wasn’t as pretty as a punch, but it hurt like hell and made an awful noise that almost brought the crowd noise to a halt. The girl instinctively reached for her cheek, which had already turned beet red. She went to stand up again, but this time, her chin was met with one of Lauren’s knees. The girl went down hard and didn’t get up.

  Lauren spit out some of the blood that had pooled in her mouth after being punched in the face. When she saw a figure approach her from the
side, she involuntarily dropped back into a fighting stance, expecting that Hunter was coming in for the kill. When she realized that it was John, she started to feel weak. Her guard fell, and her eyes started welling up with tears.

  John reached for Lauren’s hands and tried to steady her. He turned her head to get a look at the damage to her face.

  “Who hit you?” he asked angrily. “Who the hell hit you?”

  Lauren didn’t need to reply for John to know the answer—her body language and her tears told the tale. John set his sights on Hunter and charged him, forcefully tackling him to the ground as the bodies that once surrounded the lacrosse player scattered in every direction. After a barrage of strikes to his face, John grabbed ahold of Hunter’s collar and began relentlessly slamming the boy’s head into the floor. Hunter’s eyes started to roll back into his head and Lauren shrieked for John to stop. The only thing that served to end his unwavering attack was the feeling of Lee’s firm grip on his shoulder.

  Silence filled Lee’s car as he drove. Even the radio had remained off for the duration of the ride. John was sitting with Lauren in the backseat. Her head was nestled on his shoulder, and he was gently rubbing her head. He knew that Lauren was hurting inside—even more than she was hurting outside. She cried periodically, but the spells didn’t last long. She was just as sad as she was angry. John could only imagine what her father and mother were going to say when he walked her inside. He tried not to dwell on that though. The only thing on his mind right now, other than finishing off Hunter, was comforting the only person he ever truly—furiously loved.

  Lee pulled into the driveway and John got out of the car, providing whatever aid Lauren needed in the process to do the same. On her face was a combination of dried blood and tears. She had a busted lip and her eye was beginning to turn purple. She tried to muster a smile but was unable to. John put his arm around her side and walked her up to the front door and then knocked. The door opened, and as expected, Alan was the one to answer it. Lauren’s head was hung low, but her condition was unmistakable. Alan’s fists tightened as he looked her over and began to take on the embodiment of rage itself.