Brazen Girl by Ali Dean

Brazen Girl

Brazen Series Book 3

Ali Dean

Edited by Leanne Rabessa at Editing Juggernaut

Cover design by Hang Le

Copyright © 2020 by Ali Dean

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author

Also by Ali Dean

Sneak Peek

Chapter One

Beck

The first thing I notice when I walk into the emergency room is Naomi wringing her hands and pacing. I’ve never seen my younger sister wring her hands, or pace. She’s steadier and more self-assured than just about anyone I know, let alone any sixteen-year-old. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, Naomi’s been a source of peace and calm for me as much as my own mother has over the years.

Her eyes snap up to meet mine, and as I watch her stop the pacing and hand-wringing, I recognize I’m frozen in the automatic door. I vaguely notice the door’s confusion, sliding a few inches closed and then opening again when it senses me. But something is keeping me from moving all the way inside the building.

Blonde hair flashes in the space between me and Naomi, and I feel Summer pulling me across the threshold into a hug.

As soon as she lets go, she’s talking. “It was bad, so bad, Beck. She was out for almost a full minute. And then she started puking while we waited for the ambulance. All these people were there, filming and taking pictures. I almost jumped them and scratched their eyeballs out. I really wanted to. But we took care of her, Beck. She’ll be okay.” The final sentence comes out more like a hope than a reassurance.

I’ve seen people crash exactly like Summer describes. Losing consciousness and throwing up. But just hearing her describe it happening to Jordan, it’s infinitely worse than watching it happen to an acquaintance. My own stomach turns at the visual she’s painted.

Naomi looks nearly as sick as I feel, her eyes devoid of their usual brightness. That snaps me out of it enough to take a few long strides and wrap her in my arms.

Her body shakes a little against my chest, and she buries her head like she’s trying to draw some comfort from me. I don’t know that I’ve got much to give her right now. After a moment, she pulls back, and repeats what Summer said. “It was bad, Beck. Really bad.”

“What happened?” I force myself to ask. “I mean, how did she crash so bad?” People crash up there all the time, I get that. I thought Jordan would talk to me first, get some tips or something, before going after it again.

“It’s like…” Naomi drifts off, her eyes unfocused for a moment. “It’s like she was in the zone, you know? And then all of a sudden, she went somewhere else, but her body didn’t.”

With my hands on Naomi’s shoulders, I wait for her to clarify what she means, to realize she’s not making much sense. But she doesn’t continue, and goes back to wringing her hands.

“Beckett Steele?” a woman’s voice calls.

She’s wearing scrubs and holding a clipboard, and I’m already moving in her direction before I can wonder why she’s calling my name.

“You’re a friend of Miss Slattery?”

“I’m – yeah, a friend.”

“Follow me, please.”

After a quick glance at Summer and Naomi, I do what I’m told.

“I’m Dr. Gibson,” she introduces herself, slowing for a moment to shake hands before continuing on.

“Did she ask for me?”

“We asked if she had someone who could drive her home and keep an eye on her the next few days, help out where necessary. She gave us your name, and said your sister was already here.” Dr. Gibson glances over at me. “I thought it might be you when I opened the door to the waiting room.”

We turn the corner and she pauses outside a door. “Here we are.”

Jordan’s lying on the hospital bed, sitting up just enough to watch us step inside. The first thing I notice is her necklace, the one I gave her. It’s the only thing on her that’s hers. She’s wearing a hospital gown, the sheets around her white, the walls in the room just as bland and sterile.

The smiles we exchange are weak,

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