Page 38 of Darkness and Duress

“Yup. It's a good time. And Jer fucking lives for this shit.” I tugged my phone out of my pocket and sent him a text so we could meet up. The reply came mere seconds later, but I was distracted by the adorable way the helmet had mussed up Marco’s hair. Between that and his pissy pout face, he resembled a petulant child and I wanted nothing more than to kiss the look right off him while messing his hair up even more. I snapped out of my swooning when another text came through.

“Uh oh, Jericho’s feeling impatient.” I skimmed the messages and jerked my chin. “Come on, everyone is over at the starting line.”

Marco grumbled something under his breath and hurried to catch up as I strode back toward the bedlam. Our position at the side of the building had dulled the noise, but as soon as we rounded the corner, the shouts and cheers and chaos amplified tenfold. Throngs of people made it difficult to move. Marco’s hand balled into a fist around the collar of my jacket and that was when I started second-guessing this decision. I'd thought getting out of the house would be good for him. I hadn't taken into account that the crowds wouldn't be so great for him. The first time an idiot stumbled and bumped into me, he growled. The second time, he shoved back. When another swell of people pressed in too close as we tried to get to the starting line, I swear I heard his molars crack seconds before he started dragging me behind him as he bulldozed through the crowds. Honestly, the cave man thing was sexy as fuck.

We made it to the edge of the road without anyone dying, which was a feat in and of itself. Jericho's smile grew in wattage once he caught a glimpse of us, jogging forward before grabbing me in a hug. Marco, once again, growled.

“Easy, big guy.” Jer smirked and spread his arms. “Hug?”

“Fuck all the way off,” Marco ground out, his eyes narrowing.

“Yo, where’s King?” I scanned the pulsating waves of onlookers in search of Jer’s beloved dog.

“Nico and Luca have him. They're taking a bunch of thirst-trap pictures with the cars.” Jer made a vague waving gesture toward the parking lot.

“Figures,” Marco grumped, squinting as he tugged me closer.

“Look, I gotta go, but I needed to tell you something.” Jer pressed in even closer, trying to be heard over the cacophony while lowering his voice. “Tonight's fucking wild, and one of myguys told me Moretti's men are lurking. I haven't seen them yet, but I told Luca. Keep your eyes peeled, Hen.”

A chill raced down my spine with his words. The last thing I wanted to deal with were those fuckers. Judging by the murderous glint in Marco’s eyes, he was no more pleased to hear the news than I was.

“Yeah, I hear you.” I grabbed Jer’s hand and pulled him into a quick bro-hug. “Worry about your race. We’ll keep watch.”

And by we, I definitely meant Marco. The guy was at risk of having a Goddamn stroke for how tightly-wound he was. His eyes darted everywhere. His grip on my jacket tightened, but even that wasn't enough. Eventually, he had my wrist wrapped in his hand to the point of discomfort, but I didn't have the heart to say anything. Not with how paranoid he’d become. I don't think he even realized the drag race had started, and it was over in seconds. Jericho won and my hooting cry startled Marco from his vigilance.

“Jesus. Pipe the fuck down.” He glared at me for the briefest second before returning to his obsessive scanning of the crowd.

“Earth to Marco; are you there?” I gestured to the end of the straight-away. “Jer fucking killed it.”

Marco grunted and tugged my arm. “Good. We can leave now?”

“Hold up, Sad Panda.” I dug my heels in and scowled. “There’s more matches. We just got here.”

There was a soft grumble of dissent despite his reluctant concession. To his credit, he really did try to watch the next few drags. The air was ripe with the odor of nitrous and exhaust. The roar of the engines was thrilling. The energy of the crowd was invigorating. I couldn't enjoy any of it, though. Not with how much discomfort I could feel sloughing off Marco’s body.

“Alright, alright. Lemme text Jer and give him—”

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

I spun in a circle toward the familiar voice. Before the movement was complete, I was pulled around like a rag doll and in the blink of an eye, the immovable mass of Marco’s body was in front of me, blocking me from the assholes who’d managed to creep up behind us. Moretti’s goons—just like Jericho had warned.

“What do you want?” Marco’s voice was all ice and murderous. I shivered and it wasn't even directed at me.

“Just saying a friendly hello to our favorite allies.”

I shifted, peering around Marco’s bulk at the sleaze balls. Way, way too many of them had appeared from the mass of people around us. This was getting too real, too fast. I slipped my phone from my pocket, using Marco’s body to hide the movement and thanking all my lucky stars for how dark it was as I opened the device and began texting with one hand. Jericho. Luca. Nico. They all got the same message: gtfo now. With any luck at all, the short and sweet warning would do the trick.

“Cut the bullshit. Allies? I think you lost that title with the shit you pulled. Fuck off.” Marco’s body overflowed with tension. The pervasive tremors were damn near a vibration as I watched his hands clench at his sides. Plastered to his back, I could feel every single sensation as if it were my own body trembling. I pressed my palm to his lower back and froze—my thumb brushed against the hard steel of a handgun tucked into his waistband. I hadn't seen him tuck it there after we got off the bike, but I sang silent praises over it.

“Be ready,” I whispered, my position at his back making it possible for me to be heard as I breathed against the nape of his neck.

This could be a terrible idea or a brilliant one. I wasn't the smartest, definitely not a genius, but I was a resilient fucker and I was placing all my bets on the element of surprise. The jeering taunts and catty comments kept our visitors busy as they goadedus and laughed at one another. With one hand, I dialed 911, with the other, I snuck the gun from Marco’s back. I connected the call, dropped the phone, and pointed the gun toward the sky in one seamless motion before pulling the trigger three times. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Everyone reacted. Literally everyone. As the shots rang out, people screamed and ducked, including those surrounding us. I grabbed the back of Marco’s shirt and ran. We had seconds, precious seconds, to flee as the panic overwhelmed the massive throngs of people. With little time to think, I dragged Marco with me until the chaos swallowed us, cutting us off from Moretti’s men. But I didn't stop. I didn't stop until we were through the bedlam and behind the strip mall.

“What the actual fuck?!” Marco, despite his bitching, grabbed the helmets from the handlebars of my bike, handing me one as he grabbed the gun from my hand.

“Hey, it worked.” I strapped the buckle under my chin and swung my leg over the seat. “Hurry, the cops are on the way now.”

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