“I don’t give a shit about your rights. Get out there and tell me who’s in your pit, or I’ll shred that manifesto instead of reading it.”
“All right, all right.” He went to the back door, rather than the front. She had not spotted it, so it was helpful to know it was there. He stepped out and closed it behind him, so she couldn’t see outside. No matter, she had to move fast.
She went as far as the chain would reach, then laid on her front and stretched her arm until her fingertips brushed against the crowbar. She scrambled them against it, but she couldn’t get a hold on it.
Then genius struck. She yanked out her jade hairpin and used it to extend her reach. She pulled the bar the slightest bit closer with the hairpin, then grabbed it in her hand, ran back to the spot where the chain was bolted down, and pried. The bolt in the floor rose a little. She pulled the crowbar back and jammedit in, pried again, and the bolt rose a little more. One more try. She removed the bar, jammed it even deeper into the floor, and pried.
The entire bolt popped out of the floor, with its nut still attached on the other end, tearing the wood as it came free. Good.
Earl was coming back, opening that door. She kept the crowbar in her hand, grabbed her jade hair pin, and ran to the door carrying the chain so it wouldn’t rattle. Then she stood just inside. When Earl stepped back through it, she swung the bar like Alex Rodriguez swings a bat, hit Earl upside the head as hard as she could, and hoped it wouldn’t kill him. She didn’t want him dead, but she wasn’t holding back.
He went down in a heap. She jumped over him, still clutching the crowbar as she lunged out the door, he wailed, getting up again, two steps behind her. “Camellia, no! You’ll die like Mary Jo did!”
She spun around, so startled by him bellowing from right behind her that she whipped the crowbar. It nailed him right between the eyes, and he dropped.
He stayed down that time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wolf
While Wolf was still figuring out how to get to Camellia, the back door opened, and Earl—who was bigger than Ethan or Baxter Brand—stepped out. Wolf and his newfound kin were all ducking low. It was easy to hide behind the refuse pile that surrounded the place.
“Wish I’d brought my gun,” Willow muttered.
Earl looked around, stood on tiptoe, his gaze aimed at the pit that had almost claimed Willow. Then he reached beside the door to grab a pair of binoculars.
“Can you rope him, Trevor?” Maria asked.
Rope him? Wolf wondered. What kind of family was this?
Trevor shook his dark, curly head. “Too much junk in the way.”
“He’s going back inside. Throw a rock or something,” Drew whispered.
Her brother Orrin picked up a rock, rose, and wound up for the pitch. And then there was a thud, and the big guy sank to the floor.
And then Camellia, stepped over him. Her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders. She wore no shoes and one sock, held a crowbar in one hand and something smaller in the other.
The Brands rose from their cover, but Earl rose, too, before Camellia had gone two feet from the door, and he yelled at her to stop. She spun and whipped that crowbar hard.
Earl went down in a heap. Camellia stared at him for a moment, and then turned, gathered up all her hair, and did that twist, flip, twist thing she did and stabbed her hairpin into it. That was what she’d had in her other hand.
He was smiling and shaking his head at her when she finally met his eyes. Her face lit up, and she lunged forward, and every single hand around Wolf flew up, stop-sign style, as every voice chorused some version of, “No, don’t move” or “Stay where you are.”
Camellia froze in place, glancing over her shoulder. Earl hadn’t moved, but he might, and Wolf could almost feel the shivers running up and down Camellia’s spine at having that big asshole so close behind her.
“I really need to come out there, Wolf.”
“I know. It’s booby-trapped. Let me come to you.”
“So it’s not booby-trapped for you, then?”
Something banged on the roof, startling Camellia so badly she jumped. Then she pivoted and looked up where the rest of them were already looking, at little blonde Drew. She’d apparently jumped down from the rock formation above, and had landed in superhero pose on the rusty roof.
Camelia
“Nancy freaking Drew,” Camellia said to her slightly built, blond-ponytailed nemesis. “How in the hell are you here?”
