by Xyla Turner
“Move out of my fucking way, you big ass beast,” she yelled.
Oh, fuck no.
Fuck no!?!
“Problem,” one of the guys that were atop his bike asked me.
“Yeah,” I nodded.
All three guys turned to face me, and one of them had Shay by the upper arm.
“Boys, this one here has a problem.” The bigger guy got off of his bike, looking like he consumed way too much beer over the years and had way too much sun with his orange complexion matches with light blotches.
Assessing the guys surrounded Shay, one had to be a leader, and the others would follow him. Two were husky like they were football players and the other was short but bulky. They did not seem like the active types, so counting the odds, I would have to take them before Razor came.
One of them stepped forward, he had a braided beard, with beads on the end, and greasy unkempt hair. That was the leader.
“You are?” He asked.
“This is Guardian territory.” I did not answer him.
“Ahh, heard about you angels, walking around trying to keep the streets safe.” The rest of them laughed. “What business you have here?”
“This is my town; what business do you have here?” I asked.
“We’re just passing through. Came to collect some information.” He pointed to Shay, who was surprisingly quiet. “And we’ll be on our way.”
I nodded my head and assessed my boots before I spit on the ground.
“Problem is, she’s mine.” I pointed to Shay.
Her eyebrows rose, but I sent her a quick look of ‘shut the fuck up.’
“Oh, now the little lady didn’t say she belonged to no one. Now did she, fellas?” The leader added.
They all shook their heads and grunted various versions of their bullshit no’s.
“I see.” I stepped closer to the leader and said, “But I’m telling you, she’s mine.”
His guys moved in to close in on the two of us.
“I see how that could be a problem.” The man smirked. “Now, it’s five of us and one of you.”
“That’s fine. Wasn’t planning on leaving anyone standing.” I noted.
The leader tilted his head to the side, probably trying to figure out if I was bat-shit crazy or that deadly. The rest of the men burst into laughter, but he didn’t.
“Let me take care of him boss.” The first guy that was off the motorcycle called as he moved within five feet of me.
The leader nodded and took a step back. I pointed to the bold guy and said, “You get one hit, so make it count.”
“This fucker is whacked.” He laughed with the other guys.
“Bronx, no,” Shay called.
Acknowledging her comment would let them know how much she meant to me, so I ignored her as the guy stepped to me and delivered a hefty ass punch. I swear a couple of my teeth loosened as I stumbled back. Looking up at him, I nodded and said, “Good one.”
Raising my balled fist up covering my ears, I crouched low as he moved in again to swing. I quickly moved out of the way, jabbed him twice in the face, then raised my boot up to slam into his crotch.
He went down with an agonizing groan.
“Holy fuck,” one of the guys whispered.
“Take ‘em,” the leader said to the others.
Three of them came at me at the same time, leaving Shay with him.
“Sorry, guys, you already got your one punch.” I taunted.
My fist went back up to my ears, as I walked them away from Shay. The one with the beer belly moved to my right while the others spread out. Then the one in the middle advanced, attempting to tackle me to the ground. I dodged him then moved to my right and punched the big one in the throat. The one on the left advanced and I gave him two body shots and lifted my left boot and brought it down on the back of his calf, causing an ear-wrenching crack that was followed by a scream as it was broken. The first guy who I pushed out of my way, saw his other two friends on the floor and advanced in the same way. This time, I grabbed him by the shoulder and brought my knee to connect with his face.
Blood splattered everywhere as he screamed on the way down. Slowly, I turned towards the leader who was now against the brick wall with a knife at Shay’s throat. The man did not look scared, but he looked uncomfortable. Shay, on the other hand, looked like she was ready for war. Her face was hard, mouth tight and the tears were rolling. I raised my hand up for her sake so she would at least look at me and calm down.
“Don’t come any closer.” The leader said.
That did not stop me as I kept moving at a measured pace. Too fast and he would strike, I could tell and too slow, he’d have time to think. I didn’t want either, but I kept moving.
“I said stop,” he warned.
I slowed down with my hand still up. Then I said, “You should know, if there is even one drop of blood drawn from her, I will kill you.”
“You’re not in a position to be making threats.” The man pointed the knife at me. “We didn’t come down here to start shit, but we can do that.”
My lips turned up, and I repeated, “One drop and you’re a dead man.”
Shay caught my eye, and then she looked down trying to signal me for something. It was too late before I realized what she was going to do.
Her fist came up and slammed into his crotch, causing him to yell out in pain, but not before he tried to slice her throat.
Thank God, he missed and sliced her shirt as he keeled over. I blacked the fuck out and grabbed his messy mane and began to slam his head into the brick wall.
It had to be about the fourth time before I realized Shay was screaming and grabbing on my arms trying to get me to stop.
Fuck.
She hadn’t bled, but I was about to kill him.
“Bronx, stop. Please, stop.” She begged.
I let him go, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Seconds later, Razor and about ten guys rolled up on their bikes. Shay was crying profusely, so I went to see if she had, in fact, got hurt. Her eyes were on mine, and when I pulled on her torn shirt to inspect her, she ran into my chest and wrapped her arms around me; continuing to cry.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured in her hair.
She held tighter, so I wrapped my arms around her until Kylie showed up to take over.
“So, apparently Shay’s cousin is in town, and she was hooked up with some prospect at a club over in Norristown.” Razor was informing me about why the drama hit our town.
“Some guns went missing on his watch, and when he was confronted, he ran and when they came to take it out on her. She ran here to start over.”
That shit made me madder. Instead of using their manpower to find the actual guy, they came to confront a woman and her cousin.
“Shay denied her cousin was here and then apparently you showed up. I talked to the club’s president. He was saying he apologizes for his rogue members. The guy with the braided beard was the one to vouch for the prospect, so he felt personally responsible when the guns went missing. As a show of good faith, I told them that we’d inform him if the guy surfaced.”
“Hmm,” I nodded.
“He doesn’t seem to have a handle on shit over there.”
“He better get it.” The anger started to come back.
“Brother, they’ll be protected until we deem it’s no longer necessary.” He was waving his finger between him and I.
“Razorrrr,” a guttural escaped from my throat. “They had her.” I pushed from against the wall as the guys started to get back on their bikes. The ones that could. “They fucking had her.”
“Yeah, man. I get it. Believe me that shit won’t happen again.” Razor nodded. “You good?”
The look in his eye resembled the same one when Kylie was taken. He was just as livid but as our leader, he didn’t have the luxury of losing his shit. I usually didn’t lose it, but one way to guarantee that was touching Sharon Russell. That would bring down fire
, hell and brimstone.
“Yeah, I'm headed to take care of some business.”
“Alright, brother.”
We slapped hands and went our way.
“Bronx, huh?” Greg sneered.
“Greg, got a minute?” I took a step back on the porch so he could come outside.
“Well, I actually did want to chat with you.”
He was a little too smug for my taste.
“Say what you got to say.” I held out my hand.
His arms folded over his broad chest and he inhaled.
“I gather, Shay doesn’t know about you leaving my sister at the altar, huh?”
Fuck.
“No, and I’d like to be the person to break it to her.” I noted.
He smiled brightly.
“Ahh, and you’d like me to keep that bit of information to myself, then?” His arms unfolded, and he placed them on his hips. “Would you also like me to stop fucking her, too?”
“Careful,” I growled.
Greg laughed sounded like that of a sinister villain, causing the heat on my back to return from earlier. I had already pounded one guy’s face in, and I was game for another.
“I should be careful?” He chuckled. “The way I see it, you’re the one that should be careful. Any fool can tell you’re in love with her, and she wants nothing to do with you. Serves you right. You don’t deserve happiness. My sister was devastated, embarrassed and humiliated when the entire wedding was planned and your punk ass decided not to show. Now you walk around here with your biker cut on and the Army of the Guardians to fight your battles, and you couldn’t even stand by your commitment.”
And there it was, in all its shameful glory.
My cowardice was ever present before me back in a time when all that mattered was my next beat down. Shelly was sweet, kind and followed me around like a lost puppy and I was so broken that I let her. We said we’d get married and planned a small wedding to honor that. Yet, on game day, the bells started to chime, the music started to play, and I could not gather the courage to walk down the stairs and down that isle. My best men and her bridesmaids were all downstairs except her and I. I left and ended up traveling for a couple of years in the underground boxing circuit and didn’t come back to Pennsylvania for some time for fear that I’d run into her or have to face that shame. The most cowardice moment of my life.
I had heard Shelly moved and married some guy from out of town. They had a couple of kids and from what I heard, she’s happy.
“You’re right.” I nodded. “I fucked up royally, and I’ve been beating myself up ever since. I'm not here to rehash shit; I'm here to fix it. Like I should have sixteen years ago.”
Greg seemed surprised by my admission, but he remained silent.
“I'd like to speak with Shelly and do what I didn't do all those years ago.”
He scoffed.
“Oh no. She's married with kids and believe me you're dead to her. To our whole fucking family.”
“That's fine, but I'd still like to speak to her.”
“Yeah, that's not going happen.” Greg jeering stopped, and he continued, “You're going to stay away from Shay, I'll keep fucking her till I make her mine, and I'll keep that bit of news about Shelly to myself.” He smiled. “Well, on the other hand. It might be worth my while to just tell Shay, and then another woman of the world will know just what a coward you are.”
My heat levels were at an orange, and all I wanted to do was bash his face in. I was in his space now and though he physically stayed in place, his eyes betrayed him, showing the well-placed fear that should have been there.
“You’d do best not to give me idle threats, Greg. Let me be clear, wearing this cut does not make me tough. My brothers will have my back, but if I strike you down right now, they'll have my back while I sit in jail. If anything, Greg, this cut limits me from unleashing all holy hell on people who cross me, like now.”
I got closer to him, our noses practically touching as I hovered over the lanky man. “I am not that guy from sixteen years ago. I’m worse.”
That was all I had to say so I turned around and left. I had a foyer to fix and some shit to figure out.
5
A Gun?
Shay:
“She's just in there pacing, honey,” Kylie whispered. “I'm telling you, I know her. She freaks out differently. She'll perseverate and then attack. Shay does not let shit go. I told you she would go after Bronx. You saw how she went after Apollo when he said that shit to Lori.”
“Fuck. Believe me, I know.” Razor replied. “She's tough, but she's goin to crash with all of those things bottled up like that.”
“Right. Should we call…” She let it hang.
Razor must have made a gesture because I could no longer hear them.
“Why? Maybe he could help?” Kylie followed up.
At that moment, I went to their guest room and stopped eavesdropping on them in the kitchen. I had no idea who they were talking about, but it was one of the men. My father, Greg or Bronx and I did not want to see either of them.
My father would get into his protect my daughter mode. Greg was useless and Bronx. Well, I couldn't deal with him now. I was angry, pissed and my blood felt like it was about to explode out of my skin at any moment.
There had been a violation, in my hometown and Bronx, of all people, had to save me because he was in the fucking neighborhood.
My neighborhood.
Only God knows what those fuckers were going to do. I had never felt so unsafe in my entire life. It was a disconcerting feeling. As if I was on autopilot, watching my life transpire before my eyes.
I was helpless and on top of all of that, I froze. My parents didn't raise me to be some weak-willed woman. I could change a tire, fire a gun, ride a horse, hold my own in a fight and slice a man from navel to chin if necessary. My dad called it survival for his only girl.
He never wanted me to be a victim, and that's what I felt like.
A victim.
When Monday rolled around, I was beyond tired, since I hadn't slept much and was still fuming over what happened on Saturday. Kylie and Razor even tried to get me to laugh by having her talk about her new book she started reading by some author who writes about weird stuff like country guys falling in love with city women. They lived in two different states, and when she stopped talking to him, he flew there and nursed her back to health. Some real romantic shit, I guess. Razor was trying to act like he wasn’t into it, but he knew the story better than Kylie. When I was in a better mood, I’d pick it up. Kylie had everyone using their eReaders with her and her damn books. The book was called By Chance, No Choice by Xyla Turner or was it, Twyla? No, Twyla Turner wrote Scarred from the Damaged Souls Series. People probably always mixed their names up.
Anyway.
The only way I was able to go home was because I semi-convinced them that I was okay. They were both skeptical, but Kylie drove me home Sunday, in the early afternoon. Neither of them needed to know where I was headed after work on Monday morning and especially that I’d be talking to Ed at Manor Guns.
“Shay, what brings you here?” Ed asked.
He had to be around six foot and five inches. His legs were skinny, but his top was hefty like he only worked out that half. His sun-beat skin was reddish, and his long brown and gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The clear goggles hung from around his neck, and his holster was tight around his jean-covered waist.
Ed had been here ever since my dad brought me as a teenager. He was the one that taught me everything about guns.
“Hey Ed, I’d like to purchase a gun?”
One of his hairy eyebrows raised on his long face, then he said, “That so?”
“Yeah. My dad taught me for a reason. He brought me to you, so I think it’s time.”
I tried to keep my voice measured and not sound anxious or angry.
“Okay, were you looking for anything specific?” He asked.
“Well, I’m o
pen to recommendations. Something that fits my hand, and doesn’t need a lot of strength to pull or have a strong kickback.”
His head nodded, then he said, “Okay, you know there’s a fairly short process but it does include an application, background check and if the gun needs any customizations, then I’ll have to order it.” He slid me a thick packet and said, “Fill this out, sit tight and I’ll get the paperwork started for you.”
They asked questions about my mental state, criminal records including abuse and any DUI’s. Bronx saved me from going to jail that day with Apollo because the abuse would have definitely occurred. The man actually slapped me on the ass to shut me up. To this day, I wasn’t sure why that worked, but I felt compelled to keep my mouth shut.
I shook my head at the memory and finished answering all of the questions.
“Thanks so much Ed, I appreciate your help with this.” I handed him the paperwork and took a seat.
Wow.
I thought I’d have to do some more convincing, or he’d threaten to call my dad to see what was going on or something.
Nope. He simply trusted me as a grown adult and respected that fact and I’d have my gun before the end of the month if all went well. I needed to add Ed to my official Christmas list because his faith in my …
What the fuck?
No need to finish that thought, because Ed just got put on my shit list.
“Shay, what ya doing here?” Bronx asked as he walked in with a purpose.
I was his purpose.
“Ed, call you?” I looked towards the office. “That son of a bitch.”
“Looking out for you.” He nodded.
“I can look out for myself,” I said rather loudly. “Thank you very much.”
“You need a gun to do that?” He asked.
“Maybe?” I stood and folded my arms over my chest.
Bronx nodded his head.
“Alright, you know how to shoot one, but the question is, do you need one?”
Who the fuck did he think he was trying to analyze and question me?
I stepped to him and said, “It’s for my safety?”
“You in some danger I need to know about?” He looked down at me with concerned eyes.
