Dynomite: A Stepbrother Cowboy Romance by Layla Wolfe Read Free Book Online Page A

funnel, I bellowed, “Dyno! Move !”
    Quick as a whip, Dyno twirled around, saw the menace, and deflected him. He held Lawson up as a shield, my boyfriend taking the brunt of the blow directly to the face. Saddle straps went flying, and it looked like a buckle smacked Lawson dead on the nose. A gusher of blood spewed forth under the fluorescent parking lot lights, splashing the saddle’s seat. Dyno leaped to one side unharmed, and I was glad .
    Whose side was I on, anyway? I was extremely conflicted. I was glad that my hateful stepbrother had escaped unharmed?
    And it was definitely unfair when Dyno twirled right around with some kind of flashy kickboxing move and belted Lawson in the jaw with the heel of his boot, maybe even his spur. Hell, Lawson was already at a disadvantage. His best friend had just brained him with a saddle.
    Lawson got Dyno in a chokehold, and they fell to their knees as one unit. Kemp kicked Dyno with his pointy-toed boots while the other players huddled around like they were on the playing field.
    “Oh God!” cried Olivia. “Dyno needs help!”
    “That’s your boyfriend kicking him,” I reminded her, just as much as I was reminding myself.
    With every kick, Dyno’s entire head snapped back against the Mustang’s tire. All I could think of was the injuries sustained by bronc riders. They often got whiplash or spinal flexion-extension injuries. There was scuttlebutt that some of them even suffered brain injury, like combat vets did, but without the medical insurance to diagnose it.
    “Well, isn’t it unfair?” Olivia snapped at me.
    She was right. Especially when I saw the team’s fullback Troy rushing at the knot of guys with what looked like a hoof rasp. A hoof rasp is a heavy-duty metal file. This particular one had a point at the end, and Troy hefted it overhead as he ran with gnashing teeth. This was not going to end well.
    “What the fuck!” I found myself screaming, and I barreled even faster than Troy toward the melee.
    I was totally uncaring about my own safety. I’d witnessed plenty of rumbles with these overgrown boys I hung out with. They were constantly picking fights with weaker or lesser boys. I’d always sat back and laughed, verbally encouraging them. Suddenly I was defending the loser? I barely knew myself anymore. Who had I become?
    It was all a blur as I rushed at Kemp, tearing him away from the Mustang. My next task was to kick my own boyfriend a dozen times in the ribs and thighs—I believe I was screaming, “Stop it! Leave him alone, you fucking bully!”
    By the time Troy reached us, I was acting as a shield for Dyno. Lawson was on his feet yelling “What the fuck, April!” and Kemp and Olivia were having it out, too. Troy stabbed the air over my shoulders in his attempts to get at Dyno, and I was shouting, “Dyno! Get the fuck out of here! I’ll take care of Sequoia!”
    Dyno did, probably realizing the imbalance of power in the fight, because he didn’t strike me as a coward. But he raced off to his dented Harley with spurs jangling, sort of cripping along as though injured, holding a hand to his head.
    Lawson gripped me by the upper arms and shook me like a snow globe. “What the fuck are you thinking, April? Why the fuck did you butt into man’s business?”
    “You don’t fight fair!” was all I could think to say.
    But Olivia apparently didn’t have enough on her hands what with shoving, and being shoved by, Kemp. She craned her neck far around her wide boyfriend to shriek at us. “She’s defending him because her dad married his mom! Wouldn’t you defend your own stepbrother? Oh, probably not , knowing what backstabbers you all are! Come on, April. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
    I’d never heard a better fucking idea. We scurried to Olivia’s car, leaving a bunch of shocked, aghast football players standing with hands at their sides.
    Lawson didn’t recover enough to shout until we were driving out of the lot. “Really? Really,