“Wouldn’t be digging around if you stop using kids to do your illegal shit,” I protest, straining against him. He grabs tighter, I yelp from the pain. He switches his hand from my waist and pulls back my arm behind me. Overstretching all the muscles and ligaments. I can feel every muscle pulse under his touch.
His chest vibrates from his laughter, something clicked in his mind.
“Ah, so you’re “Teach”. Your troublemaker mentioned you. Didn't think you’d go for someone like her, Johnson.” he taunts. Keola just grows angrier.
“Where is he?” I plead.
“How the fuck should we know?”
They didn’t have him. They don’t know where he is.
“Let her go, Xander,” Keola growls out. Red flashing in his eyes.
“Or what? Judging by that gash on your head, you don’t want to lose that battle again.”
“I seem to remember you being left in the dirt. I can take out that other leg,” Keola continues, taking another step closer.
Other leg? This man has to be doped up with heavy drugs to be walking.
“Careful, one pull and this bitch goes down.” Xander threatens again. There’s no reasoning with him, he’s ruthless, coldhearted. He’s serious as the once hand that pulled my arm, whips out a hunting knife pinching it towards my side.
Ideas flood my head, then finally something sticks. If Keola can get a clean shot, we might make it out. My eyes flash left to right, signaling Keola to answer my hidden question. He cocks an eyebrow. I shift my eyes again. Left and right.
Which leg? Left or right?I try to signal subtly.Come on 5-0, get the hint.
Keola finally answers, glaring to the left side.
I give one last look, prematurely apologizing for what is to come.
“You should have listened to,” I say as I raise my foot to kick behind his left shin. He cries out in pain as his body twists to the side, taking me along with him, but I move my other leg in time for Keola to take out the other leg.
The sound of the gunshot echoes in the empty house, my ears ringing from the shot. My body was thrown on the floor from the impact, he howled in pain cursing at us or at least I think so. Everything hurts. I scramble away from him, before Keola hoists me up, but I feel something warm trailing down my side.
Keola’s eyes worry, he keeps repeating, “No. No.”
He gathers me in his arms rushing to the truck, buckling me in. A sharp pain grows. My hand is strained from brushing over and taking a look. Crimson grazes the scene.
I must have been sliced by the knife in my side. I’m not bleeding profusely, but the pain creeps in as the adrenaline escapes.
Voices are muffled as my mind tries to replay the accident. Keola bypasses any speed limit. I can’t let Finn see me. Sorrow buried in my chest, we weren’t any closer to Cedric, Falcons don’t have him, and I’m injured. I don’t think we call that successful.
I try to move, my ears slowly recovering from the ringing.
“Keola,” I say breathlessly.
“I know, angel. I’m gonna get you fixed,” he promises as he reaches over behind him and grabs a shirt. “Keep pressure on it, okay. I don’t think it’s deep but just in case.” His voice shakes, trembling.
My mind scatters all thoughts, I can’t think, I can’t focus. I need conversation to focus on something.
“Ask me something,” I say breathlessly.
His eyes narrow on the road, dodging any traffic, turning sharp corners, heading deep into the mountain roads.
“What?”
“Ask me anything, start a conversation with me, keep me focused on something,” I say. My hands trembling, holding the shirt on the wound that’s still bleeding. I try to move, getting comfortable.
Keola’s knuckle almost turn white, thinking it will make things go faster.
