Chapter 32 – Damara
Chapter Thirty-Two
Damara
Ineed to redo my hair and weave the pink hair into Senegalese twists this time because the heat has officially ruined my edges.
I’m sweating more from nerves than heat for several reasons.
I don’t know what to expect here and I told Magnum that I loved him, which feels more dangerous than whatever answers we’re going to find.
“Promise me nothing changes after we walk in there,” Magnum says. “Promise.”
His grasp on my hand tightens. The nervousness I felt before calms instantly in his presence. The flutters of nervousness I used to feel around loving him feel replaced with this deep sense of security in our connection.
“I promise,” he says. The earnestness in his voice scares the crap out of me.
It’s easy to forget that Magnum is in love with anyone, least of all me.
But his voice seals his feelings for me, and that scares me too more than I would like to admit.
Love has always been a battlefield for me if not an outright war.
Magnum Sinclair. I can’t believe a man with the ability to change my mind about everything was sitting right there in that biker clubhouse. I guess it’s because he’s more of a business man than a biker. And more of my man than either of those two things.
“I love you, babe,” Magnum says in his deep, gruff voice. He stirs something deep inside me every time he talks. The words don’t struggle to leave my mouth this time because I really mean them.
“Love you.”
I intertwine my hands with Magnum’s and we walk together into the casino. Magnum drops my hand and I feel his body tensing up instantaneously. The energy in the room shifts and lovey-dovey Magnum is gone. When his hand drops from mine, I take a step back instinctively.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Magnum snarls. He reaches for his gun.
“CONDOM, WAIT!” Deacon screams, stepping in between him and the two people who look kinda-familiar, but I don’t really recognize. It’s possible I met them at a previous club meeting. Magnum fires his weapon and everybody in the room screams.
He just shot Deacon. I lunge for Magnum’s arm to pull the gun away, but I’m not the only one and apparently, other people in this room have orders to keep the peace.
“YOU SHOT HIM!” the red-headed woman screams. Magnum’s too big for even three people to pull the weapon off him.
He throws the tatted up blond dude who looks like a movie neo-nazi (no offense) halfway across the room and fires again.
This time, the woman jumps in front of her husband and I’m pretty sure Magnum hits her with a bullet too.
He said he was going to stay calm and handle this rationally.
“Magnum, stop!” I scream.
“If you don’t explain yourself, I’ll shoot you too.
Then there won't be anybody left behind to call an ambulance,” Magnum says with nothing but pure outrage in his voice.
I’ve never seen him like this and a part of me would have doubted that Magnum had this energy at all if I hadn’t seen him in this state.
The entire room spins around me as I watch the tall, pale red-haired man that Magnum just shot clutching his arm while his skin turns white and blood rushes out of his face.
“I barely feel anything. I’ll be fine,” Deacon Hollingsworth growls, even if he doesn’t look fine and also did nothing to stop Magnum from putting a bullet in anyone else so far.
Magnum still has the gun and all the power, even if there are multiple men in this room who are bikers, and equally large as Magnum.
The guy he didn’t shoot has some facial features that might be a family resemblance.
I’m more worried about the giant biker who might bleed out and ensure that Magnum catches a charge.
I didn’t think he would get this crazy. But I also know better than to get in the way of this until Magnum considers the matter resolved.
I keep my eye on the giant bleeding out in case things take a turn and I have to risk my life to call 911 – more to keep Magnum out of jail than anything else.
The shock might keep Deacon pain-free for the time being but judging by the red splotch on his shirt getting bigger and bigger, that won’t last and he’ll need to go to a hospital.
Deacon grunts and tries to stand up. It hurts to see another human in pain but Magnum doesn’t seem affected – at all.
He came here to get what he wants and I can tell he won’t give up until he gets it.
I grip Magnum’s arm, hoping to reason with him silently since clearly he’s beyond speaking right now.
“Isaac,” Magnum growls at the man who clutches the red-haired woman as she bleeds to stop her from hitting the ground. “I need you to talk right now, or I’ll shoot Tylee dead right in front of you.”
“I had no idea what she was up to or how she found out, Magnum. I swear,” Isaac says, pleading for his life like anyone would in that situation.
Magnum continues calmly, “You owed me that money fair and square. I have been more than generous with the terms of the loan.”
“You’re a cheap Jew bastard,” Tylee says, earning eyebrow raises from everyone in the room, myself included. It’s not a slur on its own, but the way she said it really made it sound like a slur. I can’t just stand here and watch Magnum kill them.
“Stop arguing,” I snap. “You two need to get to a hospital so tell him what he needs to know and I’ll call 911.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Magnum growls at me as if using that tone on me has ever worked to allow him to control me. The man is out of his damn mind.
“You can’t murder a bunch of people.”
“Yes. I can. Ghost owes me over $780,000 and his wife over here must have found out. That’s what happened, isn’t it? She paid some goon idiot–”
“Hey!” Deacon scoffs, earning a glare from Magnum who doesn’t really stop himself.
“Tylee paid someone to make the biggest mistake of her life,” Magnum continues, the sympathy from his voice totally gone and replaced with a dark vein of detectable cold anger.
“She’s hormonal, Magnum. She doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Isaac says, glaring at his wife, who doesn’t want to take Isaac’s way out.
“I knew what I was doing,” Tylee says. “This man is a multi-millionaire and we keep having more damn kids. The last thing he needs to do is nickel and dime our asses when we work hard for this club and we’re never going to have millions in properties or any of that shit just to waste it all away on booze. ”
Her husband groans and tries to clasp his hand over Tylee’s mouth. She swats Isaac’s hand away. I do my part to get Magnum to put an end to this.
“Magnum, stop,” I hiss. “We have our answers.”
He doesn’t give a fuck. Anger replaces anything else that might have been going on in Magnum’s head.
“I should kill you right where you stand,” Magnum says, snarling at Tylee. “But what’s going to happen then? Wyatt gets on my ass?”
“You’re going to get away with whatever the fuck you want because of your money, Sinclair,” Tylee spits at him. “If you want to be a selfish asshole instead of writing off my husband’s debt, you deserve a little pain.”
“What about Damara, huh? She didn’t ask for this. There’s more than one person caught up in your little scheme,” Magnum throws back.
She clearly hates being called out, but we can’t keep arguing when the people in this room need medical attention.
“Magnum. I’m calling 911.” I love Magnum. I can’t let him go to prison for this. It’s not worth it, especially because we love each other.
“Doesn’t matter if you call 911,” Magnum says calmly, leveling the gun at Tylee’s head. “I need assurance that shit like this won’t happen again.”
“Pull the trigger and kill me,” Tylee says.
“You’re a goddamn mother of THREE,” Isaac Sinclair yells at her. “So pipe the fuck down!”
“Assurances, Ghost,” Magnum growls seriously, using Isaac Sinclair’s club name to evoke the loyalty, vows of brotherhood and long-term experiences as family to get Isaac on his side. “Damara, you keep your ass right there unless you want blood on your hands.”
The worst part about the shit going down right now is that Magnum is not out of control. He has a handle on every bit of this situation and he’s fine with letting this woman die.
“Magnum, I swear I didn’t put her up to this.”
“How long have you known?”
“Long enough that I worked out getting most of the money.”
I watch Magnum’s posture shift and try to fight the complex feelings running through me right now.
Is Magnum seriously about to let her bleed out over money?
His own family member’s spouse? Part of me knows it’s not just about the money.
It’s about sending a message that this won’t remain unpunished. And he won’t stop protecting me.
Deacon, meanwhile, has been dressing his wound with whiskey and only alerted the rest of us to his presence when he drops the bullet he pried out of his own forearm onto the ground.
“If I’m not at a hospital in thirty minutes, I’m going to bleed out,” Deacon says, with an angry growl as he slams a bottle of whiskey on the casino bar. “Sort this shit out.”
“I have $500 grand cash I could give you,” Isaac says. “I’ll sort the rest. I promise.”
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Tylee says, groaning in pain from the awkward jerking of her body. “We’re supposed to buy a new Jayco RV.”
Tylee seethes with real anger and her face changes color to a bright, contrasting pink against her fiery hair. Her husband glares at her.
“Tylee, enough. I’m giving him the money and we’re putting an end to this. Magnum, do we have a deal?”
“We have a deal when you promise me you’ll find a way to keep Tylee in line. She hurt somebody with what she did. Damara and I had the luck of being compatible with each other but… what if we hadn’t? What would have happened then?”
“I don’t need to be kept in line,” Tylee groans. “I need that money. Isaac, don’t listen to him. Don’t do it. My brother Wyatt will make him pay for this!”
Her shrieking gets hysterical. I’m about to defy Magnum and call 911 just to get everyone in this room medical treatment. I might even make a few suggestions about them needing psychiatric help moving forward…
“You have nothing to worry about,” Isaac says, his body stiffening with resolve. “Tylee and I are over after this stunt. I’ll be getting a divorce. If Wyatt has a problem with it, that’s the way it is.”
“What the FUCK!?” Tylee screeches.
“Do we have a deal?” Isaac Sinclair asks.
Deacon Hollingsworth groans in the most agonizing voice, “You two had better have a fucking deal. I need to get hooked up to an IV bag.”
He stitched up his arm, but the liquor won’t keep the pain at bay for long.
I can’t deny that I’m impressed at his sutures, but the entire scene is gory and disgusting, with blood spattered everywhere and the bullet sitting in a lowball glass of clear liquor, blood floating from the metal in gory tendrils.
“We have a deal,” Magnum says. They shake on it.
He turns towards me and I leave the room to go call an ambulance.
I don’t know how we’re going to explain all the gunfire to the authorities, but judging by the numbers I heard flying around, one of these assholes had better come up with a bribe.
The dispatcher stays on the line with me until I hear sirens and see proof that there’s an ambulance outside.
When I hang up, there’s no “getting my story straight” because Magnum drags me outside and gives me a look that tells me I had better go along with what he says.
I’m not arguing with him right now. He almost killed two people tonight and if I hadn’t intervened, I’m convinced he would have killed more.
I thought knowing why this happened to me would change how I felt about what happened, but it doesn’t at all.
I just feel numb and perturbed by the state of the world that this white lady was willing to risk her entire life for what?
Did she say she wanted some type of camper van?
It’s just crazy to me what some people are willing to do.
I wonder if her husband was serious about divorcing her.
He seemed serious. While Magnum talks to the cops and I stand there with my arms crossed, I can’t help but watch Isaac Sinclair arguing with the redheaded woman, who wails and sobs at him with everything he says while the EMT’s strap her to a gurney for the ambulance ride.
I shouldn’t be listening in on their conversation, but I pull out all the stops and push the limits of my Gen X/Old millennial hearing.
Magnum was ready to shoot that woman dead where she stood and what scared me the most about it was how unflinching he seemed to be about the whole thing. I’ve known he was crazy for a while but… could he be so cold? All the situations I got myself into where I had to kill, I had a lot less control.
Isaac’s face contorts with rage, an unmistakable human expression of every last ounce of his frustration with his wife, “I don’t care! If your brother wants to create war over the shit you pulled, then he can go ahead. Tear this fucking family apart for a piece of trash.”
I might have met her before. Tylee Shaw Sinclair? Tamiya spends more of her time with the Blackwood folks, so I wasn’t as familiar.
Tylee pushes back on her husband’s rage, still indignant that my pregnancy had to happen for the sake of their family drama, “How dare you, Isaac. I am the mother of your children!”
“You drugged somebody, Tylee! I tried to see your side of things and I did everything I could to protect you, but the matter of fact is I owed that money. To Magnum! The craziest motherfucker we both know.”
“I was settling things my way,” Tylee hisses. “I was proving a point in a way that didn’t involve gunfire or bloodshed.”
“Great fucking job.”
The EMTs indicate that they’re ready to take Tylee away.
She still has a lot of blood coming out of her gunshot wound, even if Magnum only grazed her and they want to take her back to the hospital.
I might have missed a few sentences here or there, or maybe they were quiet.
The next I hear is Tylee’s voice pleading with her husband.
“Don’t let them take me, Isaac.”
“We’re getting a divorce,” he says. “If your brother wants my head over it, I’ll accept the consequences.”
But I can’t help thinking that if Wyatt Shaw wants his head, all that could really lead to is to an all out war… .