34. Libby #3
“Not going without Jay.” The oldest Bishop sprints to our group and grabs his little brother by the collar, only to literally lift him from the ground in one swoop. More than two hundred pounds, and he lifts him like it’s easy. “Cut it off her, Griffin. Get up. Let’s go.”
“There’s not enough time. We don’t have time to cut and run and escape the blast zone. Go!” He pushes me to my back so hard that the back of my head raps against the floor. Straddling my hips, he tears wires from my chest and goes to work. “Go! Fuck. Just go.”
“I can’t…” Kane’s eyes flicker between me and Gunner. “I don’t… I can’t–”
“If you stay, you will die! You will both die.”
“But if we run, you die.”
“Forty-nine seconds.” Gunner carefully, so very gently, cuts a wire with a set of what looks like mini pliers. “You already don’t have time. Blast is gonna knock you on your asses. Fuckin’ run!”
“Gunner…” Kane’s eyes almost spill over with tears. “That’s not how… we can’t leave you. Brotherhood, remember?”
“Bastard children don’t count.” Gunner’s eyes don’t leave my body, but he’s not thinking of me.
It’s like he has no clue I’m here. He’s the machine, the computer that can compartmentalize.
It’s a necessity to survive, so he works on my wires and doesn’t notice the torrent of tears that stream over my face.
With a muffled curse, Kane refastens his hands around Jay’s collar and pulls him out the front doors.
“Thirty seconds, babe. Hold on for me. Don’t die from a heart attack.”
“Fix it, fix it, fix it. Please, Gunner. Fix it.”
“I’ve got you, baby. I promised, didn’t I?” Tears fill Gunner’s eyes. “I promised I’d come back to find you.”
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. We’re gonna die.”
“I will never let you die. I promised. One or two? Libby? One or two?”
“What? One or two what?”
“We have two wires. Both black. One is gonna fuck us up. The other will fix this. One or two.”
“Oh my god. I dunno! What do your instincts say?”
“One. It should be one.”
“So choose number one!” I look down to the watch. “Oh god! Ten seconds. Pick number one!”
“But he’s got the number dyslexia thing. Did he do it right?”
“Oh God. Oh no. Seven seconds.”
“Pick one! I’m here with you. Whatever you choose.”
“I don’t know.” My voice is nothing more than a shaking whimper. “I don’t know.”
“One.” He closes the pliers around one of the wires as the watch counts down.
Five.
Four.
Three.
“It should be one.”
“I forgive you,” I cry. “Whatever it is. I forgive you.”
“It’s two.” When the watch reaches one, Gunner switches wires and lines the pliers up, and using his body weight as he comes down to drape his body over mine, he makes the cut.
I hear the snip .
I hear the beep of the watch.
And then I hear the heavy breathing we make on the club floor.
My eyes are closed. My heart has surely stopped, but I count in my head. I count ten breaths before I open my eyes and study the carnage around us. The club remains standing, and my heart slams against Gunner’s while he blankets my body with his.
“It didn’t go off.” I look around in shock. “It didn’t go off.”
Slowly, Gunner lifts his chest and looks at the vest sandwiched between us. His hands shake as much as Evie’s did earlier. His face is pale, and sweat slides over his brow like he’s been jogging for hours.
“Gunner.” I concentrate on my breathing and wait for his eyes. “I didn’t blow up. How’d you know to choose number two?”
“Because… I…” He licks his lips and sends me hurtling back to that day in the gym. “Jesus. I dunno. Because I was gonna go number two in my pants. Fuck, Lib.” He leans closer and presses shaking lips to mine. “He fucked it up. He always fucks it up.”
“Did he fuck the other vest up?”
He leans over me to grab the cutters Jay abandoned earlier. Almost like he’s in contemplation, he snaps the lock from my cage and goes to work on the third. “No, he got the other one right.”
“So if you’d guessed wrong on the other one, we’d all be dead?”
He nods. Snips. And leans over me to cut my cuffs. “Yes. We’re running on fifty-fifty odds at this point.”
“That’s just…” I draw in a long breath when he releases my hand with one fast snip. “Jesus, Gunner. That’s not good enough.”
“I know. Come on.” He climbs off my hips and helps me sit up. Unlatching the cage with gentle hands, he helps open it up and feed my arms through. “Careful, babe. It should be dead, but I’m doubting myself.”
“Don’t doubt.” My voice cracks as I escape the contraption and move as far from it as possible “Don’t doubt.
We don’t have time for doubt. Come on.” I grab his hand when all he does is sit on his haunches and study the allegedly-dead vests.
“Let’s get out. We’ll send the bomb squad in to dispose of them. ”
“Yeah.” He slowly climbs to his feet and turns to study the rest of the messy club. Olly’s Colt lays discarded on the dance floor like some odd memorial to a war we never signed up for. Blood splatters form a pattern up the glass where liquor bottles are displayed for patrons’ delight.
The world is silent, because everyone has already been sent back six blocks.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever been in such a silent world before.”
“They left us,” Gunner murmurs as we approach the doors. “They left us like mongrel dogs tied to train tracks.”
“No, they…” I frown and try not to let his words hurt us. “No, they were ordered back. We’re alive. Let’s be happy that–”
“Let us pass!” Kane Bishop’s booming voice brings our eyes up as soon as we open the club door.
He and Jay fight against Spence and Romeo’s holds.
The soldiers use all their strength to push the brothers back, but it’s a battle that the Bishops refuse to lose.
They fight dirty against their friends and make headway with every second that passes, but then the door slams shut at our backs, and four sets of eyes come to us in the otherwise silence.
Romeo trips forward, because Jay stops fighting him. Spence spins, and when his eyes stop on us, he releases the oldest brother and drops his hands to his knees as though he needs to catch his breath.
For the first time in Gunner’s life, armed to their teeth and running at full pelt, his brothers run toward him with acceptance and love in their eyes, rather than hatred.