Jules rushed over to Damion’s side and that’s when she noticed his fat bloody lip and swollen eye.
“Are you okay?” she asked him, but his eyes were focused on the other group of people.
The presence of two pregnant women seemed to bring people somewhat to their senses and the fighting miraculously stopped.
“You just crossed the wrong people,” Brett said. “I’m a cop.” That only seemed to piss the other men off even more. Even though Brett had officially retired last year, she knew that he still thought of himself as the law and always would.
Slurs and curses filled with racial hate were being shouted at them, aimed at Damion, Lea, and even Jules herself, along with hate aimed at law enforcement, but no more fists flew. Even the women in the other group seemed to get into it, and they pointed at Damion, her, and Lea. More racial slurs were thrown their direction than she’d ever heard.
Brett turned and said something to Owen before he made his way back to the sailboat and climbed aboard, no doubt to call it in.
The Costa men, Aiden, and Levi made a blockade to protect Damion and the women. It seemed they had made a decision that no one was going to cross them.
Then she heard one of the women with the other group say something about her ugly swimsuit and how she was obviously a nigger lover.
Jules couldn’t help it, she laughed at the woman, a brunette that easily outweighed her by fifty pounds. The woman rushed through the men like a lineman in football and headed directly towards her.
When the woman started rushing towards her, Damion put himself between them, but Jules touched his arm.
“I’ve got this,” she said softly.
Damion looked down at her and nodded. “I’m here for backup,” he said softly.
Jules knew better than to throw the first punch. Letting the woman grab her hair and yank hard took courage. What didn’t was easily slamming her palm into the woman’s chin, a move she’d learned in one of Aubrey’s self-defense classes. The heavier woman fell backwards, landing in the waist-deep water as blood gushed from her obviously broken nose.
“Damn girl,” she heard Damion say behind her. “Where were you when this all started?” He chuckled.
“You bitch,” the woman came up screaming. “I’m going to sue you. You did it now. You and your kind deserve to rot in prison.” The woman screamed at Jules as she held her broken nose.
“You assaulted her first,” someone new said, getting their attention. A woman was rushing towards them through the water, holding up a phone. “I have the entire thing on video.” She was a blond woman in one of the smallest bikinis Jules had ever seen. To say this woman was beautiful was an understatement. She was… gorgeous.
She rushed closer, waving her phone, and added, “I’m still recording. When the cops get here, you and your friends are the ones who are going to go to jail,” she said to the bloodied woman.
The woman turned to Damion and asked, “Are you okay?” and a wave of jealousy washed over Jules.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Damion held the ice pack to his eye and watched Jules. The move she’d used to take down that racist bitch had been damn impressive.
He couldn’t get the image of her taking the woman down out of his head while he sat and listened to everyone give the coast guard details of what had happened.
It appeared that the woman who had caught it all on video was a semi-famous swimsuit model. She’d been doing a social media post on a boat nearby and had been doing a live stream when she caught the entire thing on camera. Needless to say, the video had gone instantly viral.
While the woman showed one officer the video and gave her account, Brett filled another officer in on what had happened.
Everyone gave their statements and photos were taken of Damion’s cuts and bruises.
When that was all done, Jules sat next to Damion on the sailboat and held an ice pack to his lips.
“What happened?” she asked after he was done answering some basic questions. She needed the entire story and had only heard snippets of it so far.
By now, his sailboat was surrounded by coast guard and police boats, as was the other group’s boat.
“Shortly after your group left to go the bathroom, these guys showed up. Apparently, they’d been partying further in the crowd. They were trying to make their way out and decided to anchor here to continue partying. The big one there”—he motioned to a heavyset man who was now being cuffed and hauled out of the water onto a police boat— “chucked the anchor right at me.” He motioned to his leg where a long red mark had formed and it was starting to bruise. Thankfully, it wasn’t bleeding. “I said something like, hey, watch it, and he came back with…” He closed his eyes and shook his head. How many times in his life had he been called a nigger? Too many to count. “Words,” he finished, not wanting to upset Jules any further. As it was, she looked slightly pale and a little green. Her eyes were filled with worry for him and her friends. “Then, before I could respond, he jumped in the water, landing directly on top of me. I thought for a moment I was going to drown under a three-hundred-pound racist,” he said, meaning it as a joke. “Thank God for Brett and the others. They pulled him off me, but not before the man got in a few good punches.” He touched his lip with his tongue and winced. “You guys showed up right after that.”
“What is wrong with people?” she asked softly.
“I guess they were mad that I had a bigger boat than them,” he joked, taking her hand in his.