"Hi." He looked around. "Do you know where Robert is? He never answers his cell, and I've left a hundred messages on his voice mail."
"No, I haven't seen him since Sunday. I hoped he was with you guys."
"He was. That means….Shit." Paul pulled on his helmet.
Julie grabbed his arm. "What's up? Where did he go?"
Paul sat for a moment then removed his helmet. "He went into Blood territory. The council's declared war. I was hopin' I could find him. You were my last guess."
A tightness gripped Julie's throat. "Have you tried the ranch?"
"Not today."
She turned towards her home. "Come on in. I'll call Carl."
Paul shook his head. "No. I'll sit here."
"Don't be stupid, Paul. Come on."
The overwhelming need to know where Robert was made Paul tuck his helmet on his handle bar and followed her into the kitchen. Julie pulled her cell phone out of her purse. "Hi, Mom. This is Robert's friend, Paul. Has he come home?"
Shaking her head, Mrs. Anderson checked the cut on Paul's face. "Pleasure to meet you, Paul. Please, have a seat. A cup of coffee? Coke?"
While Paul shook his head, he settled on the chair closest to the exit. Mrs. Anderson bit back a smile. Paul's uneasiness reminded her of Robert the first few days he was there. She wet a cloth and walked over to him. "Look up. May I?" She reached to wipe the blood off Paul's cheek.
He stopped her hand.
Resting her hands on her hips, Julie's mother said, "Look, I've had it with you macho Shoresmen not letting anyone tend to your wounds. Now you let me clean these."
Paul chuckled. "Bob was right. You are tough."
"He said that?"
"Yea. He talked about you and Julie a lot."
"What's happening in Shore?" She wiped the last of the blood then picked up a tube of ointment.
Paul looked at the floor. "It's not good. Robert tried. He had them under control – 'til he disappeared. If he don't show up soon, there's gonna be a lot of killin's."
"What do you mean disappeared?" Julie placed her cell on the table.
"Bob decided to go into Blood's turf and talk with'em. We wasn't to do nothin' 'til he come back. No one knows where he is. Blood says they don't know, but I think they's lyin'. It's startin' to get bad. Tonight's the night, we either find Bob…."
"Or what?" Julie clenched her fists as cold fear flooded her veins.
"If Bob was in Blood territory, he'd contact someone to come and get'im." Paul lowered his voice. "If he's still alive."
Julie closed her eyes and held back a moan.
Paul met Julie's gaze. "The chances of that ain't good. He's been gettin' a lot of grief cause he's hangin' 'round here. The guys've been sayin' he's not one of us no more. Knowin' Bob, this is his way of showin' he's still Shoresmen."
"By putting his life on the line?" Julie's voice cracked.
"Yup."
From the sadness in his face, eyes and voice, Julie knew Paul was deeply concerned about his friend. Almost as much as she was. She paused. Five days ago, she wanted nothing to do with him, but now she yearned for him to be back safe within her arms. Did she want him back? Her body said yes. Her soul agreed.
"Well he hasn't been to the estate. Carl has no idea where he is."
"Then I think Blood has him. If they do, he's dead." Paul glanced at the floor.
"No, Paul." Julie shook her head. "He's hiding somewhere. Maybe this just got to be too much for him."
Paul stood. "No, he'd never run."
"I'd rather believe he's hiding than think he might be dead." Julie walked Paul to the door.
***
The news from Shore reported sporadic fighting between the two gangs and now another gang, Death's Desire, had joined the trouble. The police tried to control the tension, but there had been reports of casualties on all sides.
Julie was quiet through supper. Afterwards, she wandered downstairs to the family room. Ashley was watching cartoons. Julie grabbed the remote and sat.
"Mommy, Julie changed channels." Ashley pouted.
"Oh, shut up, Ash." Julie threw a pillow at her little sister. "You watch TV all the time, for once, I'd like to watch."
"Mommy!" Ashley raced upstairs.
Julie flipped channels until she reached the news. She sat through the world news without hearing a word. The local news started.
"North Shore looks and sounds like a war zone. What started as a small territorial invasion by a rival gang called Devil's Blood has become and all out war by the Shoresmen. There's been fighting in both territories as members stage raids on each other. Each gang has been racing through opposition territories with guns blazing."
The scene changed to film footage of a bullet riddled storefront and wounded people being aided by paramedics. The anchorman continued, "As many as five members have been killed with ten sustaining serious injuries. We have a reporter patrolling the war zone in North Shore. So stay tuned for late breaking details."
Julie's father entered. "Any news?"
She shook her head.
"He's probably all right."
"I hope so. I did a stupid thing, and I'd like to apologize."
Julie sat through several sitcoms and part of a movie. Her father sat on the sofa and read the newspaper. As a set of commercials finished, a news bulletin flashed.
Chapter Fourteen
"This is Frank Guiles for CBHY News. Our reporter, Jack Hanes, is currently in North Shore. He has some eyewitness, late-breaking news. Jack?"
The camera focused on a crouching reporter then panned over to an area where a group of men stood. It zoomed closer as the reporter spoke in a barely audible whisper. "Yes, Frank, we're in the field next to Bells Shopping Center. Both gangs are here, Devil's Blood is on the left of your screen and Shoresmen on the right."
As the camera focused on each group, Julie scanned the screen to find Robert. One man from each gang stepped forward and squared off. The screech of tires interrupted their stares. A tall male strode over and stood between the opposing groups.
The reporter looked at the camera. "We're going to open our directional mics to find out what's going on. I advise you to censor who is watching. The language may be offensive and this could get violent."
"Where the fuck did you come from?" The shortest of the three males spoke.
"None of your fuckin' business."
"It's Robert." Julie jumped out of her chair. "He's alive." She settled onto the edge of her seat, fists clenched and heart pounding.
Robert pushed the person to his left. "Move Marco. We got Pete's killer. Get out of here."
"You fuckin' disappear and then try to tell us what to do." Marco shoved Robert.
"I was tryin' to keep the god damn peace." Robert grabbed Marco's jacket then released it with a flick of his hands. "Now, get back or I'll take ya out here and now."
The two Shoresmen stood nose to nose. Marco blinked first and walked away. Julie released the breath she'd been holding.
Robert turned to the shorter man. "Juan, get your guys outta my territory, or I'll let my guys eat ya alive."
"You sure you got control of them?" Juan nodded towards Marco.
"He'll be dealt with. Now get outta here."
"Let's say, for the fun of it, you and I fight. Winner takes all." Juan stood tall, trying to appear threatening.
Robert snorted. "No problem. I ain't got no plans for the next two minutes."
Juan pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket. "Big tough guy. Thinks he's so fuckin' tough."
"I'll pound your face into the pavement and take your gang." Robert threw his arm out and pointed. "Just get the fuck outta here."
With screeches of brakes and slamming doors, several carloads of gang members lined themselves alongside the Blood gang. Another person walked over to the spot where Robert and Juan stood. He was almost as tall as Robert was. Even his long, unwashed hair added to the impression of height. His voice was too low for the microphone
to pick up what he said.
"Fuck!" Robert shook his head and aimed his index finger at Juan. "Point for ya. I didn't realize ya was stallin'. I just thought ya was just fuckin' stupid." Robert shifted and yelled over his shoulder. "Blood and Death want Shoresmen turf."
The Shoresmen screamed obscenities and threw visual insults at the other gangs.
Robert waved his arms silencing them. "You'se guys sit. This is between me and them. Last man standing."
"Shoresmen rule!" A voice called out.
Robert raised his right fist. "Shoresmen rule!"
The leader of second gang jerked his thumb towards Robert. "Who gets to go first?"
Juan sneered. "I've had to put up with this hombre for longer than you. I get the first crack at killin' the bastard."
Robert gave Juan a push. "Leave my lineage out of this."
***
"What's happening?" Julie's eyes widened. "Did he just say what I think he said?"
"I don't think you should watch this." Her father held the remote.
"No, Dad, I have to know."
He hovered his finger over the power button. "He can't fight both men and win. Especially since the one has a knife."
The flicker of the TV screen caught their attention as the picture changed from the dark parking lot to a bright sunny day. A leading brand of laundry soap's clothing hung out on the line claiming their success at cleaning and brightening. Julie stared in disbelief at the stupidity of the commercial. She turned to face her father. "Did you do that?"
"No, I didn't touch a button."
Julie glared at the TV. Robert's a good fighter. But the other guy had a knife. What if…? Don't think about it. He'll be okay. He'll be okay. He has to be.
When the commercial ended, the movie continued. Julie tapped her fingernails on the arm of the chair and chewed her bottom lip. At the end of the next set of commercials, the news bulletin cut back in.
"We have re-established communication with our reporter— Jack?"
"Yes, Frank, we've moved closer and are hiding next to a trash dumpster. The first two gang members fought. Devil's Blood's leader is down and not moving and the other has started to fight. The Shoresmen leader is cut and bleeding."
"Julie," Her father voice was stern.
"I'm not leaving, Dad."
"He could get killed."
"I'm not leaving, and if you turn off the TV, I'll just go watch it online."
A cheer arose from the TV screen. Julie refocused her attention to it. The camera zoomed to the inner circle. Two opponents were sprawled on the ground. Robert towered over them, barely able to stand. "Get'em outta here." He turned towards the other gangs. "We own your territory. Shoresmen rule Blood and Death. Submit to our rule or we'll take you down."
Robert stood alone until the last Blood and Death member had backed away. He turned to face his gang, headed directly at Marco and drilled a clean, direct punch into Marco's jaw.
Marco stumbled but caught himself. The others backed away leaving the two in the center. "I'm fuckin' callin' you out." Marco's voice dripped with contempt.
"Hey, no, man," a member called. "He just put his life on the line for us."
"The rules say a member may call the leader out anytime, anyplace. I am callin' him out now." Marco threw out his chest and strutted in front of the gang. "I'm sick of ya rulin' like you're some king. You're scum like us. Just 'cause you're goin' to some rich bitch high school and fuckin' some rich babe, don't—"
Robert's snapped his fist straight out, hit Marco's chin and retracted all in a split second. Still breathing hard and having troubled standing, Robert growled, "Leave the babe outta this or I'll put you where I put your brother."
Marco grinned. To him, the threat was meaningless. He'd found Robert's weak point – that Westland chic.
Robert knew he was in trouble. He got lucky with that last punch. Marco wasn't expecting it, but he couldn't trust the muscles to respond with the speed and strength he'd need to defeat him. His side hurt and the swelling in his left eye was starting to hinder his vision. His lungs burned and his head pounded. Nausea and dizziness kept his mind numb. Was it exhaustion? A bad injury? Could he stall to give his body a chance to energize?
Paul stepped forward. "I say the war council meets right now and decides if Robert's gotta take this challenge."
"There's no room for sentimentality in a gang. The rule I live by says to be Shoresmen leader, I must be ready to fight." The longer Robert talked, the more exhausted he became. He stood with his head tilted back and breathed in, attempting to absorb as much life-supporting, energy-providing oxygen as possible.
The sweat on his body chilled as the night air cooled. He opened his eyes and glared at Marco. Somewhere deep down he gathered his last bit of strength, rolled his shoulders and tilted his head side to side. "I'll fight ya."
In the spot of the parking lot light, they started the ritual circling. Marco was smart enough to be wary of Robert. He'd survived many leadership challenges.
Robert trained Marco, but what he didn't know was how smart his opponent was. Could Marco make good use of the fight training, or was he just another dumb gang member from North Shore?
Marco swung first. Robert leaned back to dodge the punch but lost his balance and stumbled. Marco turned and drilled a kick into Robert's chest. He fell back, hit the ground, rolled back over and rested on his hands and knees. As the pain spread through his chest, he gasped for air. The click of a knife locking open, snapped Robert's attention back to Marco. He pushed up off the ground and tried to focus on his opponent.
With a howl, Marco dove forward and swung. The tug of the knife told him he had connected with flesh. Blood dribble down Robert's shirt. Marco reversed his swing to slash him again, but Robert slammed his foot into Marco's knee. Twisting and screeching, Marco dropped to his knees.
Robert backfisted Marco's face then jumped on his chest as Marco fell. He grabbed the hand that held the knife and twisted until it fell to the pavement. Robert grabbed it and tossed it to his right. It bounced off the light post. Marco gripped Robert's throat and squeezed. Gasping and sputtering, Robert struggled to free his throat and inhale.
His fingers couldn't pry Marco's hand from his throat. He didn't have the strength. Black dots swirled in front of his eyes. He straightened onto his knees and piledrove his fist into Marco's stomach, who gasped and released his grip.
Heaving as much air as quickly as he could into his lungs, Robert rolled to the right and lay on the cold pavement. When Marco moved, Robert scrambled to his feet. While he tried to clear his head, Marco slammed his fist into his stomach and face.
Robert swayed. He couldn't judge Marco's distance or anticipate his next move. His lungs burned. Sweat stung his eyes. The pain in his ribs seared. Why he was still standing, he didn't know.
Marco stared at Robert with a victorious sneer. He knew he didn't have the strength left to defend himself. "Think you're so fuckin' good." He feigned a move. "Come on. Hit me. What? Can't catch me?"
He'd start to throw a punch then retract it, enjoying watching Robert attempt to duck when there was no punch. "Is the Westland bitch good? Once I'm leader, she's mine. I bet she tastes fine." He stepped closer and tossed a punch.
Strength and energy surged through Robert, he side-stepped the punch and grabbed Marco's arm. Throwing two rapid roundhouse kicks to Marco's head, he twisted Marco's arm and with a quick, violent move slammed his hand onto the elbow. The sickening crack of the bone filled the air.
***
Marco's arm drooped at his side. After throwing a couple of rapid right-hand punches to Marco's face, Robert spun and kicked him in the chest. Marco fell back onto the ground and hit his head on the pavement. Robert waited to see if he moved. When he didn't, Robert tilted his head back and looked at the stars. His chest heaved as he puffed and panted trying to restore his body with oxygen.
In a barely audible voice Robert said, "Get him outta here. He's gonna need a hospital." Three
members dragged Marco's unconscious body to a car.
With a rage-filled voice, Robert's eyes darkened as he stared at his gang. "Anybody else got the guts to try and take me on?" He glared at each member. No one moved. "Pete's killer is in jail. The guys inside will deal with'im. Now get outta here." A few started towards their cars. The scream of police sirens drew closer. "Move!" Robert stumbled. "Paul."
Paul stepped beside him.
"Hospital." A car drove closer and stopped. Paul helped Robert inside. With a squeal of the tires, the car raced across the parking lot, the TV camera following its path. Three police cars encircled it, forcing them to stop. The officers exited and pulled their guns. Paul and another member pushed open their doors while an officer opened the back door and dragged Robert out.
His shirt was covered in blood and he could barely stand, but he refused to be cowed by the policemen. Three officers pointed their guns at the Shoresmen. The officer closest to Robert spun him around and slammed him against the car. Paul jumped to protect Robert but was stopped by the wave of a gun.
"No weapon. No knife. Nothing," called the officer, whose gun was aimed point-blank Robert's head. "He's bleeding badly and has a few knife wounds."
"So let us take him to the hospital," cried Paul.
"What happened here?" asked the officer.
"Nothing," Robert had more words and adjectives he'd like to have added, but the cool feel of steel on his head made him keep his mouth under control.
"You always look like this?" The officer grabbed Robert's shirt, pulling him to attention.
Standing toe-to-toe and not blinking, Robert responded, "Cut myself shavin'." The officer moved. Robert braced for a punch then threw a sharp look at Paul. Robert's voice was filled with a contemptuous growl. "Ain't no gang. Ain't no fightin'. Just three guys pulling outta the mall parkin' lot. So piss off!"
Frustrated, the officer slammed Robert against the car and left. Paul moved to help Robert. "You shoulda let me hit the bastard."
"They coulda blown us away and nobody woulda ever known." Robert's brow crinkled. "I don't hurt no more. Cold. Tired. Feel like sleepin' for a long time."
Dancing in Circles (Circles Trilogy) Page 17
