They’re torturing him. They’re torturing my Johnny Rocket.
6
Big Daddy K looks over his shoulder. He traces his gaze down to find me still on my knees, staring at the now paused screen. Moving forward, he reaches his hand out. I loathe this guy. Every time I touch him, I want to stick my hand in bleach to erase the feeling, but I stick my hand out anyway. He helps pull me to my feet.
His nostrils flare. “They’re doing that to my son.”
I can’t keep from staring at the screen. Johnny’s jaw is clenched tightly. Blood from his nose stains his teeth. “They sent that to you?”
K releases my fingers, drawn to the screen as well. “I was sent this an hour ago.”
“What do they want?”
“No demands yet.”
Brawler edges up beside me, and at least I have his strength to pull from. His formidable body still uncovered except for the joggers around his hips. “I was there, sir,” he starts. “When Johnny was taken.”
K whips his head around, glaring at Brawler. He inspects him, his beady pupils rounding ever so slightly. He gazes around the room, finding Trey as if looking for corroboration. “Magnum’s coming. He confirmed the story though,” the guard informs him.
K turns back to Brawler. I replay him leaving The Ring again in my head. First, seeing him run off like a pussy with his one remaining guard. Part of the anger he feels better be directed at himself. He fucking ran while his son was shot. “After we got down from the box,” I say, starting to relay the story. I don’t like the way he’s looking at Brawler right now. “...a crack opened up in the foundation of the building. Flames shot up through the center, and it threw Mag and I one way and Johnny and Brawler another. Whoever has Johnny accosted them when they were trying to escape out a separate fire exit.”
“I tried, sir,” Brawler says. “They flanked us, knocking me out.” He looks up at the bulge on his forehead. “I didn’t see their faces. I didn’t even see how they got away. By the time I came to, they were long gone.”
K starts to pace, still strangling the remote in his hand. The words to call him out for his actions are on the tip of my tongue. If he didn’t leave with the other guard, maybe Johnny would be here. Maybe if we fled together, they would’ve ended up on Brawler and Johnny’s side, and with two more people, those bastards would’ve had a harder struggle to take Johnny.
“Is it Gregory?” I ask. K doesn’t know everything we know, but he received the footage somehow. He must have an idea of who sent it.
“No confirmation, but that’s our best guess,” K says, voice even despite his haggard appearance. At least he has the decency to look like shit. Unlike all of us, he hasn’t showered. Small pebbles dust his hair. He got away before the fire, but not before the bombs started going off.
Bombs? Seriously? That’s twice now. Who fucking does that shit besides Johnny? This is getting too close to World War status, except the fighting only takes place in the Heights.
“Where would he get access to the firepower, the men, or the explosives?” I ask, thinking aloud. Gregory went from Crew businessman, running Candy’s, to the larger threat he is now. Either they underestimated him, or the Dragons have done wonders for his power and reach.
K lifts his gaze to mine. He narrows his eyes, inspecting me. “That’s exactly what I’d like to figure out.”
“I want to help in any way I can,” I tell K, letting the truth bleed straight through me. I don’t like Big Daddy K, and I certainly don’t want to work with him, but we have the same goal right now: to save Johnny, and he most certainly has the power to do that.
“I think you’ve done enough,” he bites out.
We lock gazes, neither one of us backing down. I don’t want him to see my fear, or maybe I’m well past that. I don’t have fear for myself. I have fear for what’s happening to Johnny. “We have the same goal,” I tell him, lifting my chin just slightly. I don’t want to defy him, I want him to see how motivated I am.
“If it weren’t for you,” K starts, falling back onto the leather couch with pressed lips. “Johnny wouldn’t have let his work slip. The Johnny before you would’ve already found Gregory and had him dealt with by now. You’re making him weak.”
Fire singes my veins. He’s wrong about that. So, so wrong, but arguing about this with him would be fruitless. I’m giving Johnny a life, not taking it away. The only thing he cares about is that he doesn’t have his errand boy at his beck and call anymore.
Also, the only person K should be blaming for all this is himself. That’s probably why he’s lashing out. He fucked up. He knows it. But a big man like him will never admit when he’s wrong.
“He never shared the information he’d been able to get on Gregory, so I can’t speak to that.”
“Because there wasn’t anything,” K roars. He throws the remote. It shatters against the wall beside the TV that still shows Johnny’s anguished face. The veins pop out on K’s arms as he breathes heavily. He lifts his gaze to us again, but locks on Brawler. “And you, you were there, and you didn’t save him? In the Crew, your elders are your priority. You either save them or die trying. Since you’re not dead, I’d say you didn’t do your job.”
I clench my hands to fists. There’s no way he’s blaming this on Brawler. He’s not even a part of the damn Crew yet.
Footsteps thud into the room. Big Daddy K moves his gaze that way. “You...”
I glance over my shoulder to find Magnum. Oscar is nowhere to be seen.
The black-clad, copper-haired bodyguard moves in close. He stands in front of K. “It’s my fault. I was tasked with keeping Johnny safe.”
“You’re damn right you were.”
K leans forward. I don’t immediately see what he’s doing until his hand is in front of him. Pressed into his palm is a small, black gun. He aims it at Magnum’s hip.
“You know what happens,” K says.
Mag nods.
I step forward, but Brawler catches my arms and holds me back. The bang that reverberates through the room rings in my ears until a tinny sound is the only thing I hear. Magnum grits his teeth, immediately placing his hand over his hip. The fabric under his hand turns shiny with blood.
“Now, get out of my face. All of you.” K tosses the gun to the coffee table and sits back, staring at the screen with dead eyes.
Brawler pushes past me to wrap Magnum’s arm around his neck. He helps him hobble toward the door. I make my feet move because the alternative is staying in the same damn room as K, and the only time I want to do that is when I’m the one pulling the trigger.
As soon as my brain catches up with my physical body, I run toward Mag. My hearing returns in stages. Mag’s even yet harsh breaths fill the hallway as we move toward the elevator. The guards in the hall look away, giving Mag the respect he deserves, but not in any way shocked about what just happened. It’s as if they all expected it. Did fucking Mag know this was going to happen? Getting shot because Johnny got taken?
I ask myself this all the time, but what kind of fucking world is this?