Page 80 of Violent Skies

“Absolutely not,” I finally spit out.

“You aren’t leaving me here. I’m not watching another man climb into a car to not know if he’s coming back to me. I won’t do it,” Cress snaps. She’s terrified. Her hands shake, her bottom lip, although pressed into a tight line, trembles. Her big eyes scream at me: please. It doesn’t matter what I say to her, she’s made up her mind.

Birdie growls, knowing that the fight is lost before I even open my mouth. She tosses her head back, hollering a string of profanities before she stomps over to her car in her heavy boots. Rifling around in her backseat she holds something at each of her sides.

“Put this on.” She pushes a vest against Cress’s chest.

“Why do—” she starts to ask but stops, stripping from the leather jacket to do as Birdie asks. I help her get it over her head, rubbing the velcro around her ribs so it’s snug before helping her slide back into the jacket. She tugs her unruly curls up into a ponytail to keep the strands from catching and it does something to my chest that I’m not expecting. She looks cold. Too hard. Not like Cress at all.

“And this.” Birdie holds out the handle of a smaller gun. I snarl at her and she whips her head to me. “It’s not like half these assholes aren’t carrying. A fucking Polly Pocket pistol isn’t going to raise any alarms,” she snaps. “Take it.”

“No.”

“Cress.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You want in that car, you’re taking it,” Birdie fights. “I won’t lose anyone else.” Her voice cracks and Cress’s eyes roam over Birdie’s face carefully, considering the words like they’re giving her papercuts. A tiny wince, a watery set of eyes and three full breaths later, Cress reaches out and takes the gun.

The crowd parts and Jesse slips through with Jake in tow as Rafe and Murphy convene from the other side.

“Riggs is driving,” Birdie tells them with an attitude laced in her voice.

“What?” Rafe looks between us with surprise on his face. “We have a plan.”

“You guys are so fucking obsessed with the plan,” I groan under my breath.

“Yeah, because the last time we didn’t have one, we lost Koa,” Murphy clips quietly at my side and guilt rushes through me. I shut my eyes with a small nod.

“The plan’s completely the same, except I’m driving. Birdie will run point with you. Rafe, meet us on the other side, on the line?” I ask him, confirming, knowing he’ll be there. He nods, shifting in his jeans and stupid bright colored shirt. “Cress is coming with me,” I explain. Cress presses her hand flat into mine, all three of them clocking the motion without a word. “One last race.”

“You ready?” Jake asks, only interjecting once we all go quiet again.

“Yeah.” I breathe out, leading Cress to the car. I get her situated inside, checking the harness mindless as my brain runs through every possible scenario.

“Hey,” she whispers, pressing her hand to mine. “I love you.”

I catch her gaze and clear my throat, pushing away all the thoughts to replace them with that look on her face. It burns with trust, loyalty, and with so much love. I wrap both hands around her face and kiss her finally, drinking in that confidence she has in me to pull this off and replace the doubt that free-flows through my veins.

“Good luck,” she whispers as I pull away, a smile on her face.

My eyes flicker up, missing hers but hitting the driver’s side window and my blood turns to ice. Koa stands there with his hands in his pockets, eyes on me—as vicious as ever with a dark smile on his face.

“Don’t lose,” he mouths.

2009

I storm into the house, climbing the stairs to his room and push open the door to find him lying in bed, face down on the pillow fast asleep. My chest heaves with a kind of agony I didn’t think I could feel and it’s all because of him.

“Koa!” I snap but he just digs himself further into his sheets. “Koa you fucking asshole, wake up!” I’m tempted to sucker punch him in his sleep, because then he’d know what it feels like to be blindsided by a fucking truck. “Koa!” I reach out, palming one of the empty bottles of beer from his dresser and chucking it violently at the wall.

“Holy shit, Riggs…” he groans awake, shielding his face as the glass rains down over his bed. “Can you be quiet? No one knows I’m home yet.” He rolls over, rubbing his face with his hands before throwing his arms over his knees. When he finally focuses on my face, his sleepy expression hardens. “Mm.”

“Yeah,” I snap, stepping forward, unsure what I even want to do about the anger that’s coursing through me. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“Don’t go all lover-boy on me, Riggs. We both know you were never going to do anything about those sappy little feelings you have.” He shrugs, knowing exactly why I’m so pissed off and I think that only makes it worse. Him being so aware of it and still not caring.

“Why did you do it?” I snarl.