I press my palm against the white angel wing covering his neck. It’s always had a look of devastation to me. Beautiful yet sorrowful at the same time.
I’m all for the sad angel. Sometimes, grief can be the best motivator.
“We’ll find him,” Brawler promises, sensing the change in my thoughts. He pulls me to him and presses a kiss to my lips that’s more of a valiant pledge than anything else.
Whoever took Johnny Rocket better watch the fuck out.
3
Brawler and I walk out of the master bedroom hand-in-hand. Oscar meets us at the top of the stairs, hair slicked back and dark eyes like shadows in the night. He catches my hand before I walk downstairs, gaze focusing on my face. He takes a deep breath while scrutinizing the area around my eyes. Eventually, he just squeezes my hand and lets us go downstairs.
I move ahead of them now that I’m on a mission. When I hit the bottom, I turn to find Oscar clapping Brawler on the back in a reassuring gesture. Brawler’s heart is on his sleeve. He’s obviously affected by the bruising on my face, and I get it. I totally do. There are some marks on his face that aren’t sitting well in my gut either, but at least I can tell myself that maybe Jiko did those.
I gasp. Shit. “Jiko...”
Brawler shrugs. “I didn’t see what happened to him.”
“Me either,” Oscar sneers.
Everything happened in an instant, so I didn’t get time to think too much into it, but Jiko fought Brawler. Why?
I sneak a glance at Brawler, but he’s already shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck.
Oscar grunts. “The guy’s an asshole. Who cares?”
I don’t disagree with him, but he grew up like Johnny. Everything he does is for a reason. Johnny wasn’t mad at him for turning him in. Why? Because Jiko was playing the game. The game their fathers set up for them when they were only kids. Since Jiko jumped into the ring, this was just another move on the board. I bite my lip, mulling it over in my head, but I didn’t see everything because I was kind of passed out for a bit. Not that I’m bringing that up right now. “What happened?” I ask. “After...” I trail off, not wanting to drag Brawler even further down the rabbit hole of hurting me. He doesn’t need to hear he knocked me out cold, and I’d rather not re-live it either.
“Brawler knocked you down and was about to end the fight when Jiko just rushed him. He tackled him to the ground and started whaling on him.”
“I wouldn’t say he whaled on me,” Brawler corrects. “He got in some good shots until I recovered from the surprise attack.” The lines in his forehead deepen. “You think he did that for you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess it makes sense he would try to make up for what he did to Johnny. I don’t think he did it because he was mad you were beating me.” I nod, my thoughts forming to the only logical conclusion. “He did it to get back in Johnny’s good graces. By him stepping into our fight, neither one of us actually lost. You still won, technically, but also, I didn’t lose. Therefore, we both got to save face.”
“So...” Oscar says, rolling his hand forward.
“So, I’m saying he did it to show Johnny they’re still friends. Johnny was worried about me losing the fight, even knowing that Brawler had to win because he’s a recruit. This way, I didn’t technically lose because Jiko stepped in at the exact right time.”
Oscar nods slowly. “The crowd loved it, too. They were torn about who to root for when you were fighting each other, but as soon as Jiko came in, they wanted his blood.”
“Good. K will be happy then. Hopefully,” I add because who even knows what makes that fucker happy other than bloodshed. “I wonder if he made it out okay.”
“Fuck him,” Oscar deadpans. I smile because Oscar is as bad as me in the retribution department. I don’t let shit go, and apparently, neither does he.
“I just meant that he would be a good ally to have in getting Johnny back. He’s in the gang business, so he knows how these things operate. Also, I think he actually cares for Johnny.”
“Yeah, well, I’m in the Crew too, so I know how things operate. Then of course, there’s Magnum who’s been in it a hell of a lot longer.” He peeks around the kitchen. “Where is he, anyway?”
I turn to find the hallway to the other bedroom clear. The door to the bedroom is even slightly ajar, but I don’t hear anything coming from inside. I swallow and sidestep Brawler to go look for him. I slip down the dark hallway and peek inside the room. Nothing is amiss. Everything is dark like Magnum just slipped inside to turn around and leave again. There’s not even the heavy coating of steam in the air like he’d just gotten out of the shower.
“Princess,” Oscar calls out. “You’re going to want to see this.”
My heart thuds as I make my way back into the kitchen. Oscar picks up a piece of white paper on the kitchen counter and holds it out to me. “I’ll be back,” he says, repeating the neat scrawl on the note. “Who does he think he is? The Terminator?”
I snatch the paper from Oscar’s hand. “Seriously?” I close my eyes. Of course. He just waited for me to go upstairs. I asked him if he wanted company, and he said no because he already knew he’d be leaving the house. I scan the note again, but there are only three words on the damn thing. No clue as to where he was going or why. “Does anyone have their phone on them?” I ask, glancing between Oscar and Brawler. My phone is still at The Ring. Though, who knows if it’s still even working or if it’s melted by now. I drop my head back at that thought. If it’s intact, the police will find it as soon as they start putting the puzzle pieces together, so they’re going to know I was there.
Fear rips through me. I turn to Brawler. “The phone. My phone.” My real phone. The one with my aunt and uncle’s number inside it. The only clue to my other life. I clench my stomach.
Brawler shoots his hand out and grabs my wrist. “It’s okay. It’s safe. It’s at my house. I didn’t take it to The Ring.”
Relief floods me. “Thank God. Fuck.”
“But your other phone is still there. So is Brawler’s.” Oscar shakes his head. “The police are going to know we were there anyway. Unless that’s why Magnum stepped out.”
Stepped out? I want to argue with him about his choice of words, but he pulls his phone out, so I don’t. I can argue with the guy I’m really mad at.
I try to take it from his hands, but he pulls it out of reach. “Not a good idea, Princess. If we’re connected to what happened at The Ring, they’ll trace our phones. I turned mine off before we left the Heights.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He has a point. I eye a phone on the wall and move toward it. “I don’t suppose you guys know Mag’s cell number off the top of your head, do you?”
They both just stare back at me with blank faces. Of course not. Who remembers numbers nowadays? That’s it. We’re going to memorize everyone’s number after this, in case we’re ever in a situation like this again.
I smile. “So, if the police could track us here and know where we are, couldn’t they do the same with Johnny’s phone? He probably had it on him when he was taken. Unless it fell out of his pocket. But we can trace him that way, can’t we?”