Page 67 of Six
I nod. “You know about me?”
“Ollie said you’re a beast in the fighting ring.” His breathing sounds choppy.
“Are you okay?” I ask, looking at his chest heaving frantically. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.”
I hear movement behind me, and then Lori’s head of curls appears.
“Sully!” Lori slides his tiny body under my arm and kneels near the relieved boy. The worried gazes between the two men hint at a close relationship. “Are you having one?”
Sully nods, looking pale. Lori curls an arm around the boy’s skinny torso and pulls him up on his feet.
“Help me.” He glares at me while trying to hold the taller body upright. I slide my arms under Sully’s long legs and skinny back, and lift him up easily. Unlike Ollie, his brother is all skin and bones.
“He’s having a slight panic attack. Take him outside. Fresh hair can help.”
I follow Lori’s instructions, remembering Sari used to have them when he was a kid. I carry Sully all the way to my Jeep, open the door, and sit him on the back seat, one leg in, one out.
Lori holds his hand in his.
“I’mmm fff-fine. O-Ollie,” Sully says shakily, pointing a trembling finger at the house.
“How many with him?”
He raises three fingers.
“I’ll get him out,” I promise, and leaving Lori to take care of the boy, I rush back inside. My fury is sizzling under my skin. I’ll kill whoever caused Sully’s panic and any other motherfucker who touched Ollie.
When inside the house again, I move to the hallway. I pass a bathroom and then a bedroom. It’s small and cold, and the ceiling has a huge water spot on one side. There’s only a dirty mattress on the floor with a couple of backpacks on top of it—one is Ollie’s. Is this his bedroom? This humid, freezing closet?
I hear a thump and then a bump coming from the wall on the left. The music is definitely coming from the room next door.
I stop in front of the thin wooden door, more laughter coming from inside. I focus my eyes on the lock, firmly planting my left foot on the floor, I bend my other leg, creating a forward momentum and give the door a powerful kick. The hinges give out, the lock breaks, and the door falls down on top of someone.
Ollie’s eyes fall on mine with wide-eyed astonishment. “No,” he mouths. His lip is split and bleeding. My shirt—that he’s wearing—is torn on the shoulder and his hair is a mess, like someone has grabbed it while hitting him. He’s against a wall, Richard Truman standing a couple of feet from him. A lit cigarette hangs between his lips and a gun is pointed at me. Another man is sitting on the bed, a beer can in his hand, a bag of pills on the sheet near his outstretched leg. He looks high and like he was enjoying the show.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks me. My growling reply makes him squirm.
My gaze goes back to Ollie. His hand is pressing on his stomach and his face is scrunched up in pain. Still, all he worries about is his brother. “Sully?” he asks me.
I nod reassuringly, unable to say a word. I’m trying to calm myself down, but seeing my kitty hurting and having the man who did it a few feet away from me is like pouring fuel on my rage. The pain starts to spread inside my head, and I know that this time I won’t be able to stop it.
“Your whiny brother is fucking fine. I barely touched him.” Dick dares to sound annoyed. I feel my nostrils flaring. My hands clenching. My chest rumbling.
Dick takes a long puff from his cigarette. And my aching head reminds me of the small round burns on Ollie’s chest. Cigarette burns.
He eyes me up and down. “I saw you at Lenny’s gym. Who are you? Tell me why the fuck you’re in my house before I shoot you.”
“No! He’s nobody. Let him go. I’ll fight Scorpion,” Ollie pleads. My kitty should only beg me and my cock. Nobody else.
My head is turning muddy. It’s happening.Fuck.The pain has reached my chest, rushing down, invading my body. It hurts. I’m trying to cling to the present, to Ollie. But the more I look at his hurting, watery, worried eyes, the more I can’t stop it.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I almost roar at Dick.
“Get in bloody line!” Lori growls like a small poodle from behind me. He’s holding the wooden bat out in front of him.
Seeing his friend, Ollie takes a step forward. His father turns and backhands him so hard, Ollie hits his hip hard on the wooden table near him before falling on it. “Don’t fucking move, you little shit.”
Without hesitation, I jump onto the fallen door—enjoying the moans coming from the man still underneath—and grab Dick’s hand as he fires a bullet. I hear a scream. My shoulder suddenly throbs, but it’s nothing compared to the agony I’m feeling inside.
