Page 52 of Property of Whiskey

I ain’t most men. Still damn near lose her as Twila twists sideways, gets one boot planted, and almost rolls me off. I shift my weight before she can finish it and trap her gun wrist with both hands.

The weapon slides across the dirt.

Bullet kicks it farther away.

“Got it.”

Bullet bends long enough to retrieve Twila’s pistol from the dirt. He ejects the magazine, clears the chamber, and tucks both away separately.

Twila sees him. “You better give me that back.”

“Not while you’re threatening to shoot us.”

Twila elbows me in the ribs.

Pain lights up my side. “Fuck.”

“You enjoy this shit?”

“More than you are.”

She jams the heel of her free hand beneath my chin and shoves hard enough to snap my head back.

I catch that wrist too. Now I’ve got both. She’s breathing hard beneath me, blonde hair half pulled from the ponytail, face flushed and eyes murderous.

And because God hates me, my body notices every fucking bit of it.

Not now. Absolutely fucking not now.

“You done?” I ask.

“Get off me and find out.”

“Sounds like no.”

“Whiskey!”

Kaylee. The fear in her voice cuts through everything. Not fear of Twila. Not even fear of me.

Just fear. I look over.

She’s sliding sideways on the Harley.

Bullet moves toward her.

Twila sees it too.

“Don’t touch her!”

Bullet freezes midstep. “Lady, I’m trying to keep her from hitting the dirt.”

“She’s a witness.”

His expression changes.

“She’s a fucking person.”

That shuts Twila up.