16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Jemma
“I thought you were playing at babysitting a little man tonight,” a man dressed as a Sinner interrupted our barely civil conversation. “Remember me when he falls asleep. I’m not little in any way, and I’d love to prove it.”
“Rod, fuck off. I have no interest in seeing your cock. You’ve waggled that thing at too many whores for it to interest me,” Flame replied with a sneer.
“Are you still jealous, babe? I’ll make it up to you. I promise to do you more times than all those whores added together,” he answered, taking his whiskey from EZ and downing in.
“Aren’t you the romantic,” Flame sarcastically said. “What girl wouldn’t want to screw you when you talk so damn pretty?”
“Exactly,” he stated as he turned to walk away.
“Damn shithead!” Flame cursed. “Always up in my face talking shit, the fucking asshole.”
I caught her watching him walk away and saw her turn slightly red. She wasn’t mad. There was a different emotion in her eyes.
“You like him, don’t you? You are jealous of the others. I didn’t see you as a coward, Flame.”
“I’m no fucking coward. You have no right to talk to me like that, bitch.”
“I’m trying to be a friend. I bet Sweet would say the same thing. Be brave. Go get your man,” I replied.
“Mind your own business,” she said, turning to leave.
However, I heard her mumble words I doubted she wanted me to hear.
“I’m not beautiful enough for him. I’m scarred, and it’s ugly,” she told herself.
Sweet stopped by to kiss my lips and hand me a small bag that smelled delicious.
“I had one sent to Jackson, too. It’s just a burger and fries from down the street.”
He handed a small, white package to EZ and said, “Take that to Prime. He’s been waiting for it.”
Without asking I knew it either had to be drugs or the cash for them. It turned my stomach to see it in Sweet’s hands. I knew the Sinner’s were involved with drugs and that Sweet was a Sinner, but to see this with my own eyes made it too real.
I told myself to put it aside, forget I’d ever seen the transaction. To the depths of my soul, I knew Sweet was a good man, at least when it came down to Jackson and me. But this was indisputable evidence that he wasn’t as far removed from the same type of lifestyle Mitch dealt with. He was just not taking the product into his system as my ex was. He wasn’t an addict.
The argument was sudden and loud. It drew me out of my own head space and back into the atmosphere of the bar. Two men and one woman were fighting. I didn’t know how any of them understood what the others were saying. They shouted over each other. Then, one man dared to shove the woman. She fell, hit her head on the corner of a table, and the men started tearing into one another.
“Don’t leave the bar,” EZ warned me. “This is gonna get messy, but you’ll be safe here.”
Then, he jumped over the bar and joined Sweet who was already trying to break up the fight.
“Stop!” Sweet commanded when he managed to briefly get between the pair. “End it before it gets ugly.”
The dark-haired man took a swing at Sweet, catching him on the chin. “Don’t tell me what to do, asshole. The fucker put his hands on my woman. Nobody touches what’s mine!”
“I had her first!” the blonde screamed and launched himself at the man Sweet was struggling with.
EZ tried to stop the blonde’s actions but took a kick to the groin for his efforts. He went down with a grunt of agony.
Sweet got the dark-haired one in a headlock and kicked the blonde in the gut. I assumed that would end the fight, but I was way wrong.
The man in the headlock used one free arm to wrap around Sweet’s leg. With the other he pulled a knife with an evil looking serrated blade from an ankle holster. He sliced at Sweet’s thigh, cutting through the leather and drawing blood. The gash didn’t seem to phase Sweet. He punched the man in the face, breaking his nose. He dropped the man to the ground to faceoff with the blonde.
The blonde had the woman by the hair and was dragging her toward the door. She was screaming and crying.
“We don’t treat women that way in here,” Sweet growled. “Let her go and get your ass out of the bar.”
“I don’t fucking care how you treat women, you pansy ass! This one’s mine, and she’s gonna pay for screwin’ that fucker. Just mind your own damn business and we’ll be just fine.”
“I can’t do that. You see, Suzy is a regular here which puts her under my care. She can damn well screw whoever she wants whenever she wants. But you can’t hurt her unless I say so or she offers that kind of service. Let her go.” Sweet’s tone was mild, but his eyes were hard. He was the devil. He scared me. He was ready to do whatever it took to make the man release his hostage.
The dark-haired man was rising. He’d gotten a gun from somewhere. I screamed a warning, but EZ had already seen what was happening. He fought the man for the gun. It went off, and EZ was left on the ground, blood pumping out of his shoulder.
Sweet slammed a fist into the blonde’s face causing him to drop the woman. He turned to wrestle with the man who held the gun only to find himself facing the barrel. He raised his arms as if he was surrendering, then brought them down in a karate chop motion that moved the gun from his face toward the floor. He twisted the guy’s arms until I heard a bone crack, and the guy screamed in agony.
With the gun he’d taken from the dark-haired man he was ready to send the blonde packing, but the blonde had a gun, too. A shot rang out. The bullet missed Sweet and sank into an innocent bystander’s arm. Without hesitation, Sweet shot back, using the dark-haired man’s gun. The blonde fell in a puddle of blood. The bullet had hit him in the gut.
I leaped off the barstool and ran to EZ. I put one hand over the wound and put pressure on it with the other, trying to slow the bleeding. Someone else, a woman, was doing the same for the bystander. No one seemed to care about the blonde man who was pumping out blood all over the floor.
I felt hands trying to lift me away from EZ, whose blood was now all over my hands and my jeans. “Don’t! I can’t let go or he’ll bleed to death!”
“Jemma, it’s okay. Doc is here. He’s our medic,” I heard Sweet say as he again tried to lift me off the floor.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off me, you bastard! Don’t touch me! Not now or ever again! I don’t ever want to see you again. This is too much, just too damn much! Stay away from Jackson and me. We’ll be fine without your kind of protection. In fact, we’ll be better off without you period!” I screamed.
I rose from the floor, letting the older man take my place. I saw sadness in Sweet’s eyes, but I didn’t give a damn. I had a man’s blood on me, and I blamed Sweet for it.
“You’re not who I thought you were. Stay away. Don’t contact me or Jackson. I’m taking my son and going home.”
I rushed to the back, running into Flame who stood guard at the door to keep my son from coming out or anyone else from going in. She’d never let him come to harm.
“It’s his job,” she quietly said. “He did what had to be done to keep that fool from shooting a lot more innocents. Cut him some slack, chica.”
“It may be his job, his duty, his life, but it’s not mine or my son’s. I don’t want any part of this!” I shouted.
Tears streamed down my face as I collected my son and stormed out the back door. I heard the sirens and chose to ignore them. If the cops wanted a statement from me then they knew where to find me. I wasn’t hanging around, not even to wash off the blood.
Jackson wisely kept his mouth shut. He was smart enough to know his mom didn’t want to answer questions, not even from a horrified child who must wonder how much of the blood all over her was her own.