Fuck. I’m guilty… Why? For doing my job? This doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense.
Before I can think about it too much, the car comes to a stop, and I have to be present. We are pulled up between some bushes of a very popular beach downtown. There’s a cabana next to the main boardwalk where Romeo is meeting with the leader of the Pirus Gang. We wait for my signal to exit the car, but before I can call it, rounds of gunshots followed by screams erupt from one of the pavilions directly beside the cabana.
“What’s going on, boys?” I call into the walkie. No response. The car is dead silent. Too silent. I tilt my eyes to them.
“What the fuck did you guys do?”
“They’re only warning shots—” Blake begins, but I don’t let him get out another word. My body moves before my mind does. I’m not certain why, not positive if this is just some reflex that I didn’t know I had. But I slide on my mask and jump out of the car, sprinting down the beach and straight towards the gunshots.
“Get back here!” I hear in my earpiece, but I don’t stop running. My whole body is moving so quickly that I might as well be in another dimension. There is nothing that can stop me. As I near the pavilion, I jump over the barricade already set up and push through the crowd beginning to form. I gasp when I see who’s in the center of the ring, that the crowd has formed.
Romeo and Barrett are hand-to-hand combatting, grunting and throwing punches.
Barrett isn’t even wearing his mask, and I don’t feel the slightest bit annoyed about it because he’s got a bloody nose, and I think he deserves it for what he just tried to pull. It looks like the Pirus Gang scattered. I don’t see their signature under-eye tattoo on any of the faces in this crowd. There’s blood on the wooden deck, but by the amount, I don’t think it’s Barrett’s.
Romeo has him pinned to the ground now, throwing punches over and over, making him less recognizable by the second. Barrett’s swollen eyes lock with mine, and I think there’s a twinge of remorse as the final blow knocks him out cold.
Romeo doesn’t care. He’s a savage. I’ve never seen him like this— eyes glazed over with fury, body completely in action to destroy whatever is in his path. I know if I don’t stop him now, Barrett will die. We don’t do that shit to our team, don’t let them fight their battles unless they insist. He made a mistake. And despite my loathing of him, I would never let him die.
I leap into action, even though I know this is a poor plan. I barely get a foot from Romeo, and he leaps towards me, mouth foaming as he bares his teeth, hands clinging to my neck before I can stop him. My legs swing about as I try to kick him, but he doesn’t let me move, locking me onto the ground the same way he did to Barrett.
This isn’t me; I’m never out-powered, never this helpless. Just as he raises his fist to punch me, I take in the air his movements allow and punch Romeo in the throat. He clutches and coughs, but I don’t wait for him to regain composure as I flip him on his back and swiftly knee him in the balls. He sputters again, and I leap off him, grabbing Barrett by the hand and dragging him through the circle.
The people gathered around parted for us, and I make haste, dragging him through the sand with all of my might. Blake jumps out of the car first, running to meet me as he helps pull him to one of the cars, now parked adjacent to ours. We load him in, and I order the boys to head straight home. Everyone is asking me questions that I don’t bother to answer as I slam the door shut.
Blake trails behind me as we head back to the car, and I hold out my hand. He looks at it dumbfounded as we stop in front of the car.
“What?”
“Keys,” I grunt.
“I always drive.”
“And I’m in charge.” I spit. “Give me the fucking keys, Blake.”
“Okay, Jesus.” He tosses them to me, and I grab them.
“You’re lucky I caught them.” I glare back at him as I jump into the driver’s side, and he takes my spot in the back. No one in my car can be bothered to ask any other questions the rest of the drive home. In fact, this is the quietest I’ve heard them. Though I’m sure they all knew about this, planned it behind my back, and now I have the power to smite them all if I so please because of it.
This isn’t my first time being on a team that didn’t listen to me solely because of male-dominant power struggles. That perspective is so beyond outdated that I won’t even begin to rant about it because if you don’t know by now that girls are badasses, then I can’t help you. All I know is that when we get home, we will all be having a very in-depth discussion about this.
I won’t include Kias until I have the details because everyone is innocent until proven guilty. The problem is that I feel they’re all guilty, but I guess feelings never got anyone anywhere good. Certainly, not my brother, nor Barrett, nor me for that matter. It’s a rough lesson we have to learn in the Bratva early on. A lesson I won’t soon forget because every time I do, something like this happens to wake me up.
We almost lost Barrett today because he was too off on himself that he thought he could lead this team on his own. Felt he was so right that it drove him to a defiant fury. I won’t let that bit go unnoticed. The moment he wakes up, we will be having a private discussion about how things will be going from here on out.
As soon as we arrive back at the penthouse, I make sure the boys in the other car have called a medic for Barrett. They must have arrived before us because I haven’t gotten a chance to ask when I realize there is already a doctor present.
“Give them space.” I clap, and the boys scatter to different areas downstairs. I roll my eyes at their stupidity and watch the doctor stitch Barrett up from a distance. After twenty minutes or so, the doctor looks up to me.
“Can I speak with you in another room?” He quietly asks as he pushes his wiry-framed glasses up his long nose. I nod and motion for him to follow me into the first room beside the stairs. It’s meant to be an office, but two of our guys have made camp in it. The doctor joins me, and I close the double doors.
“I’m just going to get right out with it,” he clasps his hands together in thought. “He’s going to need to get to a hospital. We can get him into surgery. Based on his wounds, I think he is having some brain bleeding.”
“We don’t normally go to the hospital—”
“Ma’am, he will either die or not wake up if this goes untreated. I need to call an ambulance and have him taken to the nearest hospital. It’s a procedure.” He’s insistent. Not posing a question, ordering that it happen. I’m not convinced why he needs my permission if this is legally a procedural duty.
“So, you’re just going to take him then?”