A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

her cellphone, a small wallet, and a house key. He threw the house key in one direction and pushed Dylan in the other, then pocketed the phone and wallet.

He charged straight at Connor. “I dare you, kid. Come at me.”

And Connor knew right then he had no choice but to do just that. He swung the aluminum cane at Baseball Bat’s torso, intending to knock the wind out of him and hoping like hell Olin would back him up.

Baseball Bat stepped back, dropping his knife, and then, moving with Connor’s swing, grabbed the cane and ripped it from Connor’s hands.

Everything else happened in only seconds.

As Baseball Bat closed in on Connor, two of his friends—pale, missing teeth, interchangeable in their hoodies—headed for Olin. The third, sporting a bright red Mohawk, produced a knife of his own and trained it on Dylan, who was moving toward the door. “Stay right where you are, Missy.”

Baseball Bat swung the cane at Connor’s head, and Connor ducked. He swung it again and caught Connor in the shoulder. The pain shot down Connor’s arm and into his back. He stumbled, fell. Dylan screamed.

Then Baseball Bat kicked Connor in the torso twice and was just about to swing the cane at him again when Connor heard a voice from the street: “Keep moving, folks. It’s just a power outage.”

To Connor, that sounded like a cop. To Baseball Bat, it seemed to, as well. He threw the cane away, turned toward the two men in hoodies. All Connor could see of them now were their backs. Baseball Bat shouted to get their attention, and, faster than they had come, they exited back onto the street.

Connor was in too much pain to make sense of what had happened at first. Still on the floor, he moved his shoulder gingerly around to make sure it wasn’t broken.

Then, Dylan was there, asking if he was all right.

“I think so.”

“What the hell?” Olin said, now standing beside Dylan. “That was my car.”

Connor slowly got back to his feet, using the arm that wasn’t in pain to push himself off the floor. “File an insurance claim. You’ll get the money back.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Now they’ve got my car!” He held up three fingers and started ticking them off. “They’ve got my car, my wallet, my phone. I mean—what were you thinking?”

Connor immediately felt his pockets for his and his father’s phones. He couldn’t imagine how Baseball Bat would have managed to take either of them, but he still needed to know they were there.

They were. Apparently, he was the only one left with a phone or a wallet.

He took a breath. “I didn’t want to give them our phones.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you think?” Connor snapped.

Olin opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t. He seemed to have figured it out. His face softened, and he turned away, walked toward the front of the market.

To Connor, Olin seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t want anyone to see him cry, so when Dylan tried to go to him, Connor grabbed her arm, shook his head no. He could imagine how Olin felt, and so he gave him his moment.

When Olin spoke again, he said, “They left the bat.”

Connor had seen Baseball Bat grab the switchblade on his way out. But he hadn’t thought about looking to see if the bat was still here until just now. Baseball Bat had also left the laptop, Connor noticed. He probably didn’t want to explain to the cop why he was walking around with a brand-new computer.

“We should take it with us,” Connor said, referring to the bat. “Just in case.”

Olin nodded and picked it up. Dylan went for the laptop.

“Hey,” Connor said. “Leave that.”

“But if I don’t take it, somebody else will. And I could use a new laptop.”

Dylan’s laptop was top of the line, Connor knew, and had more power than she would ever need. But he decided it might not be a good idea to tell her she was lying since it would mean explaining how he knew that. So instead he settled for a simple “It’s not yours.”

CHAPTER 46

Connor, Olin, and Dylan made it back to Austin’s building without further incident. Connor tried the door, but it was locked. Which wasn’t unusual. Austin had said he would make Connor a key, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. So, of course, Connor knocked.

Austin opened the door immediately. Behind him, the apartment was lit with candles. “Where have you been? I was trying to call you before . . .” He trailed off, gestured to the darkness around them. “Why didn’t you answer?”

Connor remembered the calls. They had come in while he and Olin were scouting the Albright Mall. “I didn’t hear them,” he lied. Well, half-lied. He hadn’t heard them, but he had seen the missed calls. He could have called back.

“Who are these people?” Austin said, looking past Connor and stepping out of the way so all three could enter.

“Friends,” Connor said, which, before he had said it, had seemed like merely an easy answer. But after he had spoken the word aloud, he realized it was true. More for Olin than Dylan, since he had just met her, but true nonetheless.

Dylan, however, was not at that same point yet. “Yup. All you have to do these days to make a friend is hack into their website.” She plopped down onto the sofa and put her feet, still in those red sneakers, up on the coffee table.

Austin winced—Connor knew he didn’t like people putting their feet on his coffee table even when they weren’t wearing shoes—but he didn’t say anything. Perhaps there was enough going on right now with the blackout and the explosions that it seemed trivial. “You hacked into her website?” he asked Connor.

Dylan jumped in to answer. “He hacked in. I kicked him out. He followed me to the mall.” To Connor: “How did you know I was at the mall, anyway?”

Connor stammered. He wasn’t ready to