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Back Break Us Save as PDF
Chapters (43)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. EPILOGUE
  38. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  39. BACK AD
  40. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  41. BOOKS BY JENNIFER BROWN
  42. CREDITS
  43. ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

So we’d found Heriberto and it had meant nothing to him. We’d also found some kid possibly named Sam who Chris knew, which was weird, especially since old Heri was obviously a dealer. We’d found a house full of people, and if any of them meant anything to Chris, he didn’t have a chance to see them. Maybe the license plate we’d found would be helpful.

13

BRIGHT AND EARLY the next morning, I was at LightningKick, waiting for Gunner before it even opened. He showed up carrying a giant Thermos of green smoothie, and I had to wait what seemed like forever for him to finish it up, the whole time trying to chat with me about crap I didn’t care about.

The four-year-old class was getting canceled. An irate mom had broken one of the lockers when her kid complained about being sore from practice. The sparring dummy had a split in the neck and needed to be replaced and it was probably my fault, ha-ha-ha. The landlord wouldn’t fix the back door. Blah, blah, blah.

I sat on a metal folding chair in my dobok, nervously pumping one leg while chewing on my thumbnail. I’d driven home the evening before with one eye in the rearview mirror the entire way. I’d hardly gotten any sleep; every time Dad moved around downstairs or Hue sighed on the floor next to my bed, I was certain Heriberto was going to pull a Basile brother act on me and bust into my kitchen—only this time I wouldn’t get away with just a few bruises and a cut on my chest.

By the time morning came, practicing with Gunner seemed like the best possible use of my time. Not that I was afraid I was getting rusty or anything; I just needed to expend some of this nervous energy before it made me crazy.

Finally, Gunner rinsed out his cup in the tiny restroom and turned it upside down on a paper towel on the front desk to dry. He disappeared into the locker room, then reappeared in his dobok.

“You ready?” He stepped to one side by the mat and gestured for me to go first.

I stood, walked to the mat, and bowed. “Definitely ready.”

“Want to work on anything in particular?” he asked, following me to the heavy bag. I gave it a few tentative kicks.

Something I could use to defend myself from crazy Hollis wannabes and potential drug dealers. Something that could be used to defend myself from my own father, or any other murderer, for that matter. “Anything,” I said.