“You didn’t have to do that,” Brawler says when we get in the elevator.
“He was going to do it to me anyway,” Mag says, leaning half on Brawler and half against the back wall.
“You knew?” I ask, confirming my suspicions. He just walked in. Hell, he returned to the tower, even when he knew that was going to happen. The balls on this guy. Fuck.
“That’s how things work,” Mag says.
“In a fucking crazy world.”
“Shh,” he chastises, then sucks in a breath when the elevators open.
We go straight for Mag’s apartment. Out of the choice between mine and his, his is the best bet on actually having what’s needed to deal with this new wound.
We take him in and set him on the couch. For being shot, he’s being surprisingly calm, gritting through what must be pain to put on a brave face for us.
“First-aid kit?” Brawler asks.
“On top of the fridge.”
Brawler retreats while I drop to my knees in front of him. I help him unclasp the buttons on his pants and maneuver them carefully down, revealing the small wound still leaking dark crimson blood.
Mag peeks down and sighs. “Through and through. He barely got me.”
“This is insane,” I say, heart pumping loudly in my chest as I watch the blood seep through his fingers. This reminds me so much of the night of the shootout when he was hit in the arm. He was casual about that, too, bandaging himself. He’s done this to himself too many times.
Brawler returns with the first-aid kit and within minutes, the entry and exit points are cleaned and bandaged. Magnum pops a couple of pills and lies back.
“Why the fuck would he do that?” I seethe, still staring at Magnum’s wound, not understanding.
“To teach me, and everyone else, a lesson. Not doing your job has consequences.” Brawler sits back on the coffee table. I reach out for Magnum’s hand, and he squeezes mine. He looks over at Brawler. “I know you have to get home, man. Go check on your Mom. I’m good. Kyla can take care of me.”
I squeeze his hands a little tighter while Brawler hesitates.
“Seriously,” Mag says again. “I dropped Oscar home, so he wouldn’t be involved. It’s best if you lie low for a bit. Get everything better at home, and we’ll all talk soon.”
Brawler leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. He runs his hand down my arm before getting to his feet and heading toward the door. “Lock this behind me,” he says.
He leaves, and I get to my feet, doing exactly as he said before returning to the couch. “Can you get me an ice pack from the freezer?”
I nod, grabbing the pack and returning to find Mag stretched out on the couch lengthwise. He reaches for the ice pack, and I place it in his hand. He lifts his shirt and places the gel pack on the bandages before pulling his shirt back down to cover it.
I bite my lip. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay? Doesn’t the Crew have a doctor we can go see?”
“It’ll be fine, Kyla. The doc won’t be able to do any more for it than I just did. Just come here.” He motions me toward him and scoots to the edge of the sofa, leaving me room between his body and the couch. I carefully maneuver myself there, placing my head at the junction of his arm and torso. I reach my hand over his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat under his shirt. The longer we lie there, the more exhaustion tries to yank me under. Mag runs his fingers through my hair. “Don’t fight it, beautiful. We can’t do anything more right now.” Even as he says it, he brings his phone out of his pocket and pulls up an app. His screen pulls up a feed of us right now. He rewinds the time-stamped video and then watches it on fast forward.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one came into my room while we were gone.”
“Bugs?” I guess. If K doesn’t trust us right now, it wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to watch over us.
He shifts on the sofa and lets out a long breath. “I should’ve looked as soon as we came in.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re shot. I could’ve done it.”
“Remember when I said people should be taking care of you now.”
I gaze up at him. “Yeah, that was before K shot you.”
He smirks, and little-by-little, he starts to relax. I don’t know if it’s the painkillers kicking in or if lying with me is calming him down. Hopefully, it’s a bit of both. “I can’t believe I had to get shot for you to lay with me like this.”
I smile into his side. “I’ll lay with you whenever you want.”
He tucks his phone near his thigh after watching the footage and shifts toward me. He lowers his lips to mine, kissing me softly for a couple of beats before resting his head back against the throw pillow he shoved under his neck.
“Did you get Cole back to the Heights, too?”
Mag nods. “He’ll call when he hears something.”
“K isn’t going to just sit back.”
“All the better,” Mag says. “Both sides working on it means we’ll find something sooner rather than later.”
“They’re torturing him,” I say, trying not to think about the video replay I saw but failing.
“I saw.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat.
“K won’t trust any of us anymore.”
“This is the gang life, Kyla. He issued his punishment to me, which means it’s done. It’s not you he’s mad at, technically. It’s what you’re doing to Johnny. He’s afraid. He’s acting out. He’ll get his shit together, and tomorrow, everyone will be on deck to do whatever we can to find Johnny.”
“Except he shot you.”
He squeezes my arm. “He knew what he was doing. The wound is superficial at best. It’s just a reminder of the stakes for everyone.”
No one needs reminding. Not when we just lived through what we did, only to have the people who are supposedly on our side turn on us, too. I’m no gang expert, but I can’t imagine this kind of ruthless tyranny will last forever.
Instead of fighting against Gregory, maybe we need to be working with him.
7
Something stirs my hair, and I blink awake. It takes me all of a half second to remember where I am and what happened.
I peek up to find Magnum staring at me, a soft smile curving his lips.
“You’re awake?”
He nods, then reaches up to run his fingers through my hair.
“Why didn’t you wake me? I’m supposed to be watching over you.”
“We can agree to disagree,” he says. His hazel green eyes are laser focused, sharp. His intense stare awakens my nerve endings.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
I start to sit up, but he pulls me back down. “I just need you. Here.”
My lips buzz. I peek at his mouth and then move back to his eyes. He certainly looks like he’s fine. He’s not grimacing in pain anymore. I lift his shirt, revealing his tight abs and flexed muscles. He’s kicked his pants all the way off, and his boxer briefs are dangerously low and tight over the bulge of his cock.
I tear my gaze away from all the fun stuff and glance at his bandage. There’s a blotch of darker coloring from the red underneath, but it’s only the size of a nickel. Maybe what he said earlier is right. K knew what he was doing, and he only shot him for attention, not to really hurt him.