Fortune. Erica Spindler
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to be ashamed of—”
“Shut up, Skye!” Chance caught her arm and dragged her back toward him. Her help was the last thing he needed; he would never live it down. He faced the group, eyes narrowed. “Get out of our way.”
The boys spread out, circling them, blocking their way in every direction. Len smiled slyly. “Make us.”
Chance felt a flush start at the base of his neck and move upward. Marvel’s rules be damned, he had taken all the crap he was going to from these losers. He wasn’t walking away until they backed down or he’d killed somebody.
“I said, move.”
The group hooted, and Len cocked his head to the side. “She the only piece of ass you can get, farm boy?”
Chance took a menacing step toward the other boy, adrenaline pumping through him. “You want to say that again?”
Len, too, took a step forward. “And if I do?” he mocked. “What’re you going to do about it? Ask your little girlfriend to beat the shit out of me?”
“No. I’m going to beat the shit out of you.” Chance clenched his jaw and waved the boy forward. “Come on. You first.”
Chance held Len’s gaze, unflinching. The other guy was older, bigger and meaner—plus he had three of his delinquent cronies to back him up. Chance didn’t care. He had reached the point of no return. He might go down, but not before he inflicted a little pain of his own.
Len hesitated; Chance waved him forward again. “Come on, asshole. Let’s rock ‘n roll. If Marvel catches us, we’re both out. But what the hell? I’m game.”
He saw the other boy waver, weighing his options. Len might be big and dumb as a stump, but he wasn’t ignorant of his options. If Marvel canned him, Len knew he was up shit creek without a paddle.
Chance smiled grimly and waved his opponent forward. He almost had him. One more minute and—
“Leave Chance alone!” Skye flounced forward, placing herself between him and Len. She propped her fists on her hips and lifted her chin. “He hasn’t done anything to you. I think you’re just jealous because he’s got—”
“You to protect him,” one of the guys jeered.
The group howled so loudly they nearly drowned out her sputters of indignation. Chance wanted to die. He was certain he would. He made a desperate grab for her. “Skye, don’t—”
She shook him off. “What you’re doing is just plain mean. You guys make me want to puke!”
That brought a fresh wave of amusement. A couple of the roustabouts laughed so hard, they doubled over.
“Tough guy has to have his little girlfriend protect him. We’re so scared!” They were all but hysterical with laughter. The boys began clucking their tongues, taunting Chance.
“Pussy,” Len said laughing. “Pussy needs a little girl to protect him.”
“That’s not nice,” Skye shouted. “You should be—”
“Shut up!” Shaking with rage and embarrassment, Chance grabbed a handful of Skye’s T-shirt and dragged her backward. “I can fight my own battles!”
“Come on, then,” shouted Len, and the circle of teenagers tightened around them. “Let’s party, farm boy.”
Just then, Abner Marvel came around the corner, bat in hand, expression murderous. The group froze. “What the hell’s going on?” he bellowed, slapping the bat against his palm. “We all on break here, or what? Did we forget it’s Saturday and the show opens in less than an hour?” He slapped the bat again. “Did we?”
The group scattered. Marvel caught Chance’s arm as he started past. “I’m watching you, McCord,” he said. “I’m watching you real close.”
Chance swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“You’d better learn to fit in, because you’re running out of time.”
“That’s not fair!” Skye cried. “It wasn’t Chance who—”
Marvel’s face mottled. “And you, little miss, you stay out of business that doesn’t concern you. You’re going to get somebody hurt. Understand? I don’t want to have to go to your mama, but I will.”
Without another word, he walked away. Chance watched him a moment, then turned to Skye. “Get the hell away from me.” He all but spit the words at her.
“You should be grateful I—”
“Grateful! Don’t you get it? You don’t help. You make things worse. For me and everybody else.”
“I do not! You’re just saying that because—”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to meet his eyes. “If you hadn’t stuck your big nose in, I would have won that fight. I almost had him.”
“He would have beat your ass. And you know it!”
“You don’t know anything. Get lost.”
He started off; she followed. “At least I’m not mean,” she said, running to keep up. “At least I don’t—”
“Look!” he shouted, stopping so suddenly she plowed into his back. “You’re ruining my life. I want you to buzz off, scram, get lost. I can’t be any plainer than that.”
“Make me.”
He glared at her. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. It’s a free country, and if I want to follow you I will.” She folded her arms across her chest and cocked up her chin. “And you can’t stop me.”
“Like hell,” he muttered, so mad he felt as if the top of his head was going to pop off. “Like hell.”
He closed the distance between them, picked her up and swung her scrawny little body over his shoulder.
She squealed in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Getting rid of you. Once and for all.”
“Getting rid of me? Put me down!” She tried to kick her feet, but he had her legs anchored at the knees. “I said, let me go!”
He kept walking. She pummeled his back with her fists, landing a few good blows to his ribs. “That hurt!” he shouted. “Cut it out!”
“Not until you put me down.”
“I asked you nicely, you didn’t listen. Now I’m taking you home. Where you and all babies belong…with their mommies.”
She made a sound of outrage. A moment later, he felt her teeth sink into his back. She’d bit him! He couldn’t believe it. “You are a spoiled brat!” He smacked her on the bottom, hard. She howled. “Bite me again, you little shit, and I’ll hit you again. Harder this time.”
He could tell by the way she tensed that she was thinking about it, weighing her options. She must have decided against it because he went unbitten, though she seemed to double her efforts to wiggle free.
He finally reached the trailer she shared with her mother. He pounded on the door. When Madame Claire opened it, he dumped her red-faced daughter at her feet. “Keep your little brat away from me. Do you hear? Keep her away.”
Madame Claire—a pretty woman who looked nothing like the devil-eyed witch the other boys portrayed her to be—moved her surprised gaze from him to her daughter. “I don’t understand, what…Skye, have you been bothering this boy?”
“No, Mom, I—”
“Yes, Mom,” he interrupted. “Skye has been bothering this boy.” He glared at mother, then daughter. “She’s been following me around. Today, she nearly