by E. M. Moore
“Looks like you’ve had to do this before,” I say, cringing a little, and wondering what he’s had to do for the Crew in the past.
He looks up. “I have.”
“How many times?”
He chuckles. With one hand, he holds the gauze in place while trying to wrap the bandage around him. The gauze keeps slipping, so I lean over, taking the bandages from him. He looks up at me, an appreciative look in his eyes. “Wrap it tight, but not tight enough to lose blood flow.”
I nod. Sure, I’ve never been in a gunfight before, but I know about wounds. Physical and emotional.
While I’m wrapping his injury back up, I glance at him to find him watching me. “You’re not going to answer me, are you?”
He presses his lips together, the stubble on his chin sticking out with the movement. “Five times. And I’m not counting this one because it was just a graze.”
I swallow, my mouth drying up like I’ve been breathing in the desert air for decades. “I think that’s five too many.” I get to the end of the bandage and tuck it into the top of the wrap like he had before. Then I sit back on the coffee table, watching Magnum as much as he’s watching me. It’s like we’re having a stare-off while also trying to simultaneously feel one another out. He, of all people, has tried to help me, and I would’ve put him in the firmly pro Heights Crew category. I mean, he’s their guard for crying out loud. He protects them. They trust him implicitly.
“You need to be careful,” Magnum says, lowering his voice to an octave above silence. “Johnny—”
“Hey.” Johnny emerges from his room, voice groggy. He has pants on now instead of just boxers, but his chest is still as naked as it was last night. My heart almost stops at the sight of him. Sex appeal rolls off him in waves. It’s no surprise women line up to be with him. The secretary at the school. The bitch at the dress shop. He’d be alluring even if he wasn’t tied to the toughest gang around. “Any news?” he asks Magnum as he comes up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. A shiver rolls down my spine at his touch.
When I look back at Magnum, he’s in complete guard mode. His back is ramrod straight. The bags underneath his eyes have even receded while he answers Johnny. “Drego checked in a couple of hours ago. He’s safe. Uninjured. Perimeter’s been clear all night. Anyone who checks in is safe to head back.”
Johnny squeezes my shoulders. The movement doesn’t even catch Magnum’s eye as he’s completely focused on Johnny Rocket right now. Maybe too focused, as if he’s trying hard not to look at me. “What did I tell you, babe? My dad knows what he’s doing.”
I can’t help the scowl that comes to my lips, but Johnny’s oblivious. His dad knows what he’s doing all right. The fucking coward. He’d rather shoot someone than do something upstanding like actually stick to the game plan they both agreed to.
The complete shock in Roza’s eyes when he whipped the gun out on her... I’ll never forget that. Not for as long as I live.
I shiver, a cold chill running up my back. It’s not as if I haven’t replayed what must have happened to my parents in my head, but now having seen someone get shot—close enough to almost get splattered with blood spray in the aftermath—I can’t stop picturing my mom’s panicked face in place of Roza’s.
Did Roza have children? The cycle could start again. With all this violence, will it ever end? I doubt the Crew understands the never-ending loop they’re perpetuating.
That’s why I’m here. So Big Daddy K doesn’t add more victims to his list. So some other kid doesn’t have to uproot their life in order to take down the bad guy. I’ve already taken on the role, happily.
“Are you okay?” Johnny rubs my back. “Are you cold?”
I freeze, then force myself to relax. Johnny is not Big Daddy K. Right? Right.
I glance up to find Magnum staring. He watches me with his intense hazel-green eyes. Johnny squeezing my shoulder brings me back to reality. I shake my head right away. “Just…I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I guess I am going to need clothes at some point today though. My own clothes. Is there any way I can go back to my apartment?”
“No,” a hoarse voice says. Except, it isn’t Johnny who’s telling me no. It’s Mag. Before I can glare at him, he turns his face toward Johnny. “I don’t think that’s a good idea yet.”
“Obviously,” Johnny says as if the answer was already a given. “She’s not leaving my sight for a while.” He rubs his hand down my arm, then trails it back up absentmindedly. “I’ll send someone to get you some clothes.”
“Let’s hope no one’s gone through her place,” Magnum adds.
My heart stops. My place. My fucking place with the hidden compartment and the only tie back to my real life. I clear my throat to hide my sudden panic and fail. I swallow several times, digging my fingernails into my thigh. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Because you’re one of us now.” Johnny reaches around to tip my chin toward him, so I can see his face when he says, “You’ve proven that.”
Dread washes over me. It isn’t so much what he’s said. It’s what it means. Being one of them is what I’ve wanted from the beginning. I have to get close to do what I came here to do, but what if I get too close? What if I get stuck?
What if I like it?
A musical tone sounds from the other room. Johnny stills then takes off for the bedroom, holding his pants up as he runs. The elastic band of his boxers clearly showing. Not even the sight of that can keep me chill.
“You look like you’re going to be sick.”
Magnum would notice, of course. It’s his job. I stand and start to pace, diving my fingers through my hair. I can’t let anyone get to my aunt and uncle. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to put everything together, especially not with sadistic people like these guys. What’s left of my family can’t be brought into this at all. They’re my only family left in this world. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Now you really look like you’re going to get sick.”
His voice is closer now. When I turn to make another pass through the room, he’s right in front of me, a blockade of muscle and warm hazel-green eyes. There’s something in his gaze that makes me remember the soft way he said I could trust him. But can I? The rational part of me says no. I can’t trust any of these guys. But, I’m desperate. “What’s the probability they got to my apartment?”
“I say about eighty percent,” Magnum answers. “You beat their best fighter. He was third in command under Roza. They probably torched all your shit. Not that you had much, anyway.”
I curl my hair around my ears, then lace my fingers around the back of my neck.
“I take it there’s something in your place you want.”
“I need,” I say, eyeballing him so he knows how important this is to me. “I can’t let anyone else get their hands on it, Magnum. It’s important.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “What is it? I’ll see if I can find it.”
I shake my head. That’s not fucking happening. What if this trust thing only goes so far? He is, after all, charged with keeping Big Daddy K safe, and if I threaten that, I know what he has to do. I’d be willing to sacrifice myself, but not my aunt and uncle. No one else in my family dies. “You said I can trust you, right? I need you to take me there so I can get it.”
Magnums shakes his head. “Not fucking happening. We don’t know who or what will be waiting for us there.”
“Magnum, I’m serious. I need it. If you don’t fucking take me, I’m going on my own.”
The soft pad of footsteps sound from the other room. Johnny’s coming back. Magnum’s face twists into a grin. “I’d like to see you try getting away from Johnny. You’re not going anywhere, Kyla. So, you either tell me what it is, or it’s gone forever.”
I suck in a breath. Our gazes lock on one another until Johnny reappears through his bedroom doorway. I turn away from Magnum at the sight of Johnny and take my place back on the sofa where the bodyguard found me earlier.
Hopefully, my silence speaks volumes. If he won’t help, I’ll just do it on my own.
4
I’m left alone again as Johnny and Magnum leave the apartment to talk to Big Daddy K. Before he goes, Johnny shows me where the food is and how to work the expensive smart TV he has even though my aunt and uncle have the same exact TV in their game room in the basement a world away. I pretend I don’t know what I’m doing anyway, and Johnny loves taking care of me. Seriously. The glow on his face and the delight in his eyes is unmistakable as he shows me how to connect to Hulu and Netflix. The kiss before he leaves is strong and fueled by promises he hasn’t said yet.
I’m fucking messed in the head.
While they’re gone, I peek out the windows. I don’t know what I’m hoping to see. A clear escape route? Arrows in the street telling me exactly where to go to avoid the bad guys—both Heights Crew and Fonz’s people. What I do find are guys dressed in black, walking casually up and down the block. Maybe, just maybe, they have other people fooled, but not me. These guys have Big Daddy K written all over them for the simple fact that they look like Magnum. If I walked out of this place, they’d be all over me.
Just to ram the point home, I peek my head outside Johnny’s door into the barren hallway, which isn’t barren anymore. A slew of guys mill around. Big Daddy K must have brought up more security to make sure whoever’s here is safe. A quick scan later and I don’t recognize these guards from being here previously. A few of them might look vaguely familiar, like it’s possible I know them from school or perhaps even last night.
I wonder what the casualty rate was of yesterday’s shootout. Are the police asking questions? Surely, the Heights Crew can’t have a shootout without the police getting involved. Somewhere, Detective Reynolds is all over this even though his hands are tied.
A whistle splits the air while I’m still looking out the hall. It’s a flirty whistle meant to tell females they’re looking fine even when they haven’t asked anyone’s goddamn opinion on the subject, and certainly not asshole men who can’t restrain themselves.
The sea of black-clad bodies part and none other than Glo from the dress shop downtown comes into view. Huge-rimmed white sunglasses take up most of her face. Her lips are painted a bright pink, and of course, her fingernails match. They come out to points, looking more like weapons than fashion. “Hey Girl,” she calls out when she sees me.
I step back into the room, noticing the two bags draping off each side of her. This must be Johnny’s solution for not having any clothes. Glo walks in with a flourish. Next to her, I look like a hobo on the street. I haven’t even bothered to brush my hair today, but mostly because I don’t have the basic necessities here and I’m confined to this space.
A guard follows her in. He’s not Magnum, and I’m immediately tense. She turns on her silver sparkly heels. “This is going to be all girl stuff. You’ll probably get bored.”
He stands off to the side, arms crossed over his chest. He watches her as she moves deeper into the apartment. I don’t like this one bit. I’m not going to get ogled while I talk to Glo. “You can leave,” I tell him.
His jaw hardens, but I just stare blankly back at him until he leaves the room, mumbling shit under his breath.
“So much testosterone,” Glo says.
“Trust me, it’s fucking everywhere,” I tell her. She has no idea.
She makes a face and then looks around Johnny’s digs. Her lips part slightly like she’s stepped into Buckingham Palace, but Johnny certainly isn’t royalty.
“Let me guess,” I start. “Johnny asked you to bring by some clothes.”
She drops the bags to the floor and turns. I’m barely paying attention when she does. I’m staring at the bags of clothes like I’d rather do anything than go through the girly shit Glo has picked out for me. Or even Lynette. There probably isn’t a single outfit I want to wear in there.
When a clicking noise interrupts the silence, I peer up at Glo. Her face is twisted into a mask of fury, and her bright pink nails clasp onto a small, silver handgun pointed right at my face. I gasp, and her gaze drops to the gun, stunned. I don’t give her a chance to try to get another shot off. I run forward, slamming my shoulder into her side to tackle the bitch.
“You cunt!” Her scream pierces the air loud and clear as I wrestle her to the ground.
I reach for the gun. Her finger is still against the trigger. Her long ass nails capturing it there. I finally grab hold of it and rip it away from her. She cries out, her fake nail tearing off with it. A sound of fury bursts past her lips and with a sudden motion, she knocks me to the side, and the gun slips from my grip. We both scramble for it. I’m trying to push it away from her, and she’s trying to grab it. She must think it was a fluke that it didn’t go off the first time.
I don’t want to find out if it was.
Instead of focusing on the gun, I elbow her in the face. This bitch tried to shoot me. I was five feet away from her. Even someone who hadn’t shot a gun before could have hit me at that range. Thank fuck it didn’t fire properly.
The door bursts open at the same time Glo pulls the end table on top of me. The lamp crashes to the floor next to my head. She screams in defeat as the guard I sent away hauls her to her feet, pinning her arms behind her body. She doesn’t have the gun, I realize. I breathe a sigh of relief.
More of K’s guys stream into the room. Shouts rise up, and before I can even think to slide the end table off me, Magnum’s doing just that, righting the table and helping me stand. In front of us, Glo sobs. Black streaks track down her face from beneath her sunglasses, which sit askew on her face from the scuffle. Her lip is split. A smear of blood mixes with her pink lipstick, ruining the whole effect she had going on. Instead of looking like a Barbie, she looks like…Well, she looks like an angry Barbie that got her ass handed to her.
“You okay?” Magnum asks.
I open my mouth to say something, but Johnny runs in, eyes wide. He sifts through the bodies in front of him, discarding them one by one until his gaze lands on me. “Fuck.” He runs over, grabbing me by the cheeks so hard it almost hurts. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”
Behind him, his father strolls in like he’s going for a Sunday drive. He’s dressed in a fancy black suit, and he certainly doesn’t have the disheveled look he was sporting yesterday after the shootout. There’s no blood on his immaculate clothing. Not one hair is out of place. He looks as calm as can be for having a gunman in his place. Or excuse me, a gunwoman.
I’m the opposite. Now that I’m not struggling for the gun, I shake uncontrollably. She legitimately just tried to end my life. Fucking Glo. From the fucking clothing shop. The one who looks like she knows more about fashion than even what fucking day it is. Why could she possibly want to kill me?
Johnny’s thumbs trace over my skin. Relief fills his crystal blue eyes when I look up at him. Maybe that’s why Johnny is so alluring. He’s so dark. His hair is dark. His aura. Everything except for his light blue eyes. It’s alarming how attractive he is, actually.
“What the fuck happened?”
My body locks up. My mouth snaps shut. I refuse to look over because I know that voice. I simultaneously want to fall to my knees in relief and kick the person who owns that voice in the nuts. He’s here, and he says that? Fucking that? Just like it’s any other day?
“Hey,” Johnny’s soft voice sounds, bringing me back around. I focus on his blue-eyed gaze before I fall apart. “You’re okay, right? Talk to me, babe.”
I nod slowly.
“Mag,” he says, calling his guard’s name like what he wants is implied, and it must be because Mag has no problem coming toward me, shielding me from everyone else while Johnny walks toward Glo.
“And who is this?” Big Daddy K asks in a monotone clip. Not upbeat or depressed, but somewhere in the middle where slick meets suave. After just fighting for my life moments ago, I don’t think that tone fits the situation at all. I much prefer Jo
hnny’s pissy voice.
“This is Glo,” Johnny offers. With the thunderous look on his face and the growl in his voice, he’s the monster that hides in the closet. He’s Barbie’s worst nightmare. “She works at Lynette’s shop downtown.”
While they discuss what happened, awareness crawls over me. I refuse to look up to find the face I know is watching me right now. I’m not playing this game. I’m already on edge. If I see Oscar now, I’m going to lose it, and I can’t be fucking fragile Kyla. I have to be strong Kyla. I have to be the girl who kicked Evan’s ass and watched someone get murdered in cold blood right in front of her. I have to be the girl who survived being chased and shot at in a car while driving through the Heights. I have to be the girl who just fought her attacker and won.
This is who I am now.
Glo spits in Big Daddy K’s face.
It happens so fast, I don’t think anyone expected it. Even with everything else going through my head, I gasp in shock. That girl has some fucking lady balls on her—and a death wish. I should know.
“You piece of shit,” she barks. “My brother died last night because of you.”
Johnny nods as if he’s just put two and two together. “Her brother works at Dunnegan’s.”
“Worked,” Glo growls. “Last night, he got shot in the head.”
“So, you thought you’d waltz in here and take something from us?” Big Daddy K asks.
My stomach rolls at that. There’s not an us where he’s concerned. At least not truly. Not on the inside because I will hate this fucker with a fury no one will understand until the day I die.
“I was hoping for you or your shitty excuse for a son, but I decided I’d take what I could get while you cowards hid.”
“Well, now you have nothing,” Big Daddy K says. He reaches into his back pocket to retrieve a handkerchief. A fucking handkerchief like he’s a mobster from the fifties. Then, he finally reaches up to wipe Glo’s spit from his face. He does it slowly, making everyone wait as he carefully glides the cloth down his cheek, then folds the blue square in half, using a clean side to do it all over again. “Take her downstairs,” he orders.
