“What?”
“Something’s not right. Get the fuck down!”
They listened to me only because of the forcefulness of my words. They hit the floor. I went upstairs, pushed open the door to my room, grabbed a pistol, and peered out the window.
There were about a half-dozen Bandits outside.
Damian was one of them.
And they were all carrying guns.
“Fuck!” I roared.
I drew attention upstairs, but that was the point. I fired two rounds off, ducked for cover, and then remained still as gunfire pointed up at me.
This was a new level of violence. Not only was this attack taking place atour fucking house,but it was also happening inbroad fucking daylight.The Bandits had moved past giving a shit about the law. They were turning all of Santa Maria into a war zone, and there were no limitations.
This was the consequence paid for the murder of Damian’s brother. And it would not stop until Damian—and probably Eduardo—were dead.
Fuck!
“What the shit!” I heard Mason yelling downstairs. “Get guns and take cover!”
As much as I wanted to join the rest of the guys downstairs, the stairs were in direct line of sight of the front door and the front windows. If I walked down, I might as well have worn a giant bullseye. I bit my lip, waited for the gunfire to die down, and shot out the window when I could.
The fight was relatively quick, no longer than maybe a minute or so. We could hear sirens in the distance, and the Bandits dispersed well before anyone even came into view, let alone got to the house. But I hadn’t managed to kill anyone, and really, the more dangerous thing was that the Bandits had sent a message.
There were no limits to what could happen. There were no safe spaces. We were under attack, and they could strike at any fucking moment.
I hurried downstairs, rushing to check in on the rest of the guys. I didn’t hear anyone cry out in pain, but that didn’t mean anything. Someone could have gotten shot and killed. Someone could have gritted the pain out.
Mason was the first guy I saw. He looked tense and ready to kill, but he was unharmed.
And then, behind him, I saw Garrett with a wound in his shoulder. The blood was not gushing, but it wasn’t like a gunshot was as simple a wound as a fucking knee scrape.
“Zack?”
“Right here,” he said, tucking his gun into his pants as he came around a corner. “We should get him to the hospital. He needs attention.”
“Bad?”
“I don’t think so,” Zack said. “But do you really want to risk having one of our guys suffering complications? We can take him to Albuquerque. He’ll be away from the Bandits’ reach.”
“Yeah, please, I’d rather not get shot up with lead while getting a hit of morphine here!”
It was a bit of a farther drive, and it wouldn’t work if he had a more pressing issue. But for now, it could work.
“I’ll call Brock,” I said. “I need to let him know what’s going on. Especially since…”
My voice trailed off. Garrett didn’t know.
“Since what?”
Well, so much for that.
“I killed Damian’s teenage brother,” I said. “It was by accident, but that’s why we got attacked here.”
“Fucking hell, Connor!” Garrett said. “You’re a real fucker. You’re an idiot, but a real fucker.”
