Page 67 of The Rowdy Ones

“Come on,” Wild says to me, pointing at a weight bench. “Spot me.”

Evan glowers at his cousin, but then Alex distracts him. We escape, leaving Wild’s dad with them. As soon as Wild is on the bench, hands on the bar that’s already loaded down with weights, he laughs.

“I hate that motherfucker.”

“Me too.” I shudder because I can still feel Evan’s hands on my back. “Took you long enough to get here.”

He pushes up the bar without effort. We’re both strong, but Wild’s been physically trained because of football. My strength comes from real life shit out in the wild like building cabins from the ground up or hauling a deer carcass.

“Put twenty more on each side,” he instructs, continuing to do his reps.

I find the weights and add them to the bar when he stops. Then he goes back to lifting, this time with more effort needed.

“You going to tell me what you went to see your uncle about?”

I actually like his uncle, Will. But he’s Evan’s dad, so I avoid him too at all costs. Anything to do with Evan gives me fucking hives.

“He asked me if I knew the guy who died,” Wild says with a grunt. “The second one.”

“Did you?”

“Nope, my buddy Chet knew him. You remember Chet?”

Chet’s sister, Sadie, was one of the ones captured by those fuckers who took my family. Of course I know Chet. I nod and wait for him to continue.

“Uncle Will is stressed out. The two homicides were clearly done by the same person and the same method.”

“How?”

“Gash to the throat. Bashed in the face until unidentifiable. Both were sexually assaulted.”

My gut churns. “But they were men.”

Wild shakes his head as if I’m stupid. “Men can get raped too. Even big ones built like a brick house.”

He means me.

I didn’t need the reminder.

“Does he know why?” I ask, unable to keep from darting my eyes over to the man who haunts my dreams.

“No leads. No motive they know of.” Wild gives up on lifting and slides off the bench, gesturing for me to sit. “I told him I can help.”

I take Wild’s place and test the weight. It’s a lot, but I can do it. He stands over me, hands spotting the bar in case I drop it.

“How will you help?” I ask through gritted teeth. “You’re not a cop.”

“But I could be.” He grins down at me.

The thought of anyone willingly giving Wild a gun and handcuffs sounds pretty dangerous to me.

“You’re really thinking about it?”

“Hell yeah.” He smirks at me. “Maybe I’ll arrest my fucked-up cousin as my first matter of business.”

If only it were that easy.

The talk all day at the clinic is about the second murder this week. And while it’s alarming and terrifying, my mind keeps drifting back to yesterday and then last night.