“Why? I thought you were like, together?”
“Nothing is as it seems,” is all I say.
“Dar, Amelia’s not like the girls around here. She’s a good girl. She was good for you.”
“But I’m not a good guy. You think someone like her would be happy around this life? You think I could be anything in her world and change anything about who I am?”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and I finish my beer, launching the bottle across the backyard.
The truth is never easy to hear or clear cut to understand. And the truth is, Amelia Haynes is too good for me and always will be. I knew it from the start, but I let myself fall just so I could see her smile and know I was the reason for it.
The back door slams open and Jermaine barrels out, phone in hand, impending violence gleaming in his eyes.
“Trouble at one of our bars. Shen’s calling for backup.”
Tariq’s on his feet before Jermaine finishes talking and I’m quick beside him.
“Who?”
It doesn’t really matter to me who’s trying to fuck with us through one of our contacts. This is the perfect excuse to blow off the anger rippling through me and I run through the house, jumping down the porch steps and bundle into the car with Jermaine, Tariq, and Rodrigo.
Tariq leans back and hauls the holdall from the trunk through the battered seat back. Holding my hand back, the cold, heavy weight of a gun is slammed in my hold, and I cock it back and make sure it’s loaded.
“2-Guns are growing brave,” Jermaine murmurs calmly taking the corner onto Main.
“They’re going to die if they’re still there,” I point out needlessly.
“While Shen was on the phone, they were smashing the place up. I’m guessing they’re trying to make a point.”
“And what point would that be? The fact they can break bar stools and liquor bottles? If they want to make a point, they should come and step to us.”
“They’re pussies,” Rodrigo mutters and I agree.
In less than ten minutes, we’re pulling up outside the bar and jumping out of the car. I notice the black van sat two cars up before running inside.
They’re still here, one of their boys, Chunkz, swinging his bat across the bottles of liquor behind the bar.
Fuck shooting, I stow my shooter in the back of my pants and launch myself over the bar. I run at him and knock him on his ass. In the red haze of violence, I can hear shots flying across from us. The bat clatters to the floor and rolls off. The fucker doesn’t stand a chance against me tonight. Swinging punches to his jaw, I embrace the pain rocketing up into my arm. I pictureAmelia’s crestfallen face and blame this asshole for the shitshow my life has become without her.
The scent of his blood wafts under my nose. His face is fucked but it’s not enough. I hear my boys yelling but I can’t make out what they’re hollering.
The pain in my knuckles becomes too much and I start using my elbow to ram into his face. Arms wrap around me and pull me back. I land on my ass and the guy lies there unmoving. Jermaine holds out his hand and helps me up to my feet. The bar is fucked. There isn’t a stool or chair that hasn’t been broken.
“We’ve got to get out of here, cops are on their way.”
Now he says it, I can hear the sirens. Turning to Shen, I wipe my hand over my face forgetting it’s covered in blood.
“We’ll cover the damage.”
He knows to keep his mouth shut. Looking around the bar, half of my boys have already left. The rest throwing one last kick to the pricks bleeding on the floor.
“Let’s go,” I holler, and we all file out, splitting off to our cars.
Jermaine pushes his foot down on the gas and we peel away before the cops show.
My breath comes out in heavy rushes of energy, and I punch the dash. I can feel the stiffness already setting in.
“That should show them,” Tariq hollers from the back.
