Chapter 8
Sienna
“Briggs!” I shout, chasing down the sidewalk after her. Inwardly, I kick myself for leaving my phone behind. Without the ability to call Kelsie for backup on defusing Briggs, I am flying solo straight into the eye of the storm. “Are you crazy? We need to let the police handle this.”
“Investigations and paperwork are a waste of time,” she fires back, waving her hand dismissively. “We’re skipping right to sentencing.”
“Yeah,” I snort. “Yours.”
It is safe to say that Briggs has a temper that rivals the ferocity of an erupting volcano. Also, like a volcano, she has the ability to lie dormant for long stretches of time, stewing on something, giving little warning before she unleashes total devastation. Her biggest trigger, messing with someone she cares about.
Anything that has upset her in the last few weeks is about to be unleashed on Jimmy in a space that is filled with tools and lots of heavy machinery.
I should probably offer to cater his funeral for free.
“Don’t argue with me on this, Sienna,” she warns, her hips slamming from side to side as she powers up the street toward Jimmy’s garage. “I have no problem breaking my foot off in your ass before I de-ball him and smash his teeth down his throat.”
“Not arguing,” I reply, knowing that isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. “Only trying to keep you out of prison.”
Stopping at the edge of the garage parking lot, she whips around to face me, her chest heaving. “No body,” she says, a smile spreading across her face. “No crime.” Bending, she picks up a loose brick, testing the weight in her hand. “Hey, asshole!” she shouts, walking up the lot with purpose. “Eye for a fucking eye!”
“Don’t!” I shout, though it’s too late.
Briggs hurls the brick, sending it through the large glass window Jimmy had her paint when he first took the place over from his dad. A woman screams from inside the office, followed by the sound of a door slamming. “Oh, Jimmy!” Briggs shouts, pacing in front of the building. “We need to have a little chat.”
“Briggs!” I hiss, scanning the lot for witnesses. “What the hell are you doing?”
Looking at me, she arches a brow. “Somethin’ bad.”
Son of a silly bastard. This day just keeps getting better and better.
“Well, obviously,” I hiss, gripping the sides of my head as if I expect it to fall right off my shoulders. “Vandalism is bad, alright. And illegal.”
“Hmmph,” she shrugs, surveying her handiwork. “I prefer the term unconstruction.”
“What the fuck!” Jimmy roars, rounding the side of the building, advancing on Briggs. “Leslie, lock yourself in my office and call the damn cops!”
“Good,” Briggs bites out. Grabbing the tire iron from the bumper of his truck, she swings, nailing him in the balls. “Maybe we can share a cell.” Jimmy drops to the ground, coughing and sputtering while Briggs turns her aggression onto his truck.
“And there’s the assault charge,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes.
“Fucking whore,” he wheezes, curling into some odd looking fetal position.
“Wrong answer, Jimmy,” Briggs grunts, smashing out the driver side taillight. “Grow some balls and take some responsibility.”
“You just going to stand there?” Jimmy huffs, attempting to push to his knees while still clutching his crotch with both hands. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”
“You want the short list?” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m actually shocked she’s going this easy on you.”
“Easy?” he heaves in disbelief. “This is easy?”
“Yeah,” I nod honestly. “I only chased after her because I’d questioned whether she’d let you live.”
“What’s wrong?” Spinning around, Briggs kicks him in the hip, knocking him over again. “Can’t hold your own against little ol’ me?” His face slams into the concrete. Shifting onto his side, he groans, whining about kicking a man while he’s down. “Come on, Jimmy,” Briggs taunts. Tossing the iron into the back of the truck, she grabs him by the collar of his shirt. “Want me to help you up so you can put me in my place?”
Jimmy stares at Briggs with wide eyes. His mouth opening and closing like a damn fish. The look very similar to the one I was wearing the night I caught him tipping the pizza girl. If I weren’t worried about the two of us ending up in the back of a squad car right now, I might be able to enjoy this.
“Okay, Briggs. Stop,” I blurt, hearing sirens. “I think you’ve proved your point.”
Leaning into his space, she presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “To be continued, motherfucker.” Walking over to the back of the truck, Briggs sits back against the bumper. Fishing out her smokes from her jeans, she lights one up. “Ah,” she breathes after taking a long drag. Her eyes drop to where Jimmy lies on the ground and she sighs in satisfaction. “Was it good for you?” she asks, giving him a wink.
I stare at her, slack-jawed and utterly dumbfounded. My eyes move to Jimmy, then to the bashed in truck, and finally to the broken window. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I take a long therapeutic breath. “You want brownies or cupcakes on visiting day?” I ask Briggs, dropping to my ass to the concrete.
“Please.” Blowing out a puff of smoke, she throws her head back and laughs. “This isn’t my first rodeo. Won’t even be my last. I’ll be in and out of lockup within twenty-four hours.” Crossings her ankles, she winks at me. “Can you run by my place later tonight and unfreeze some of my assets for bail?” she asks, taking another drag. “Feed my cat so the little monster doesn’t piss in my shoes again?”
“Yeah,” I swallow hard, groaning inwardly at the mention of her cat, Bob. “Grab the cash, feed Satan, and try to avoid demonic possession from an evil feline. Piece of cake.”