I turn around to look at him.
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Aw, fuck.”
“What the fuck happened?” Jax demands.
“Why the fuck are you over here?”
Callum grunts. Laughs, but it comes out pained. “Fuck!” He lifts his shirt. His entire right side is purple and swollen. “Her fucking dad, man. Why the fuck would you tell me to camp outside like that?”
I shake my head. “We weren’t planning for Tiger to leave.”
“Where the fuck did she go?” Callum groans.
“Barnes & Noble.”
“So you assholes ditched me? What the fuck?”
“We followed her. You were supposed to stay put.”
He’s still hunched over, holding his side. “He had a fucking knife! He’s fucking insane.”
Jax and I look at each other.
“Did he have someone with him?” I ask.
Callum nods. “Two guys. Fucking shit, dude.”
“Where the fuck are you parked?” Jax asks.
Callum snorts. “The same place, you fuck!”
I reach into Jax’s duffel bag in the back and grab his hockey helmet. Then I see movement through the windshield.
Two guys are still there, still near Callum’s car.
Jax follows my line of sight.
Callum peers through the window. “Let them fuck with my car. I don’t care.”
“Fuck that,” I mutter.
Jax parks and holds out his hand. “Give me my fucking stick.”
I hand over his hockey stick.
Callum winces. “That’s a seven-hundred-dollar stick, Jax.”
“And you’re priceless,” Jax says, stepping out of the car.
I follow him out, adrenaline already pumping through my veins.
The two guys are ripping Callum’s car apart. His shit’s all over the sidewalk. The seats are torn. They carved lines into the paint. One of them sees us coming and starts to run.
Jax closes the distance in three strides and swings.
The hockey stick connects with the guy’s shoulder. He goes down hard.
The second guy turns toward me. I grab him before he can pull the knife up and hit him so fucking hard that the knife skitters across the asphalt. I get him in a headlock and throw his entire body weight to the ground. He hits the pavement face-first.
