Page 60 of Crusher

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I skid in front of the ice rink not even eight minutes later, breaking all the speeding laws, and I run towards the front doors just as a gunshot echoes and true fear hits me for the second time in a space of three months.

I roar, “Alexiana!” and run inside, not stopping, several boots echoing behind me.

Another shot goes off, and I run inside the rink as everything fucking slows down.

My wife's mother is lying on the floor, her eyes open, dead, a man smirking down at her. Another man holds a gun up towards the ice and my wife, lying on it, blood pooling beneath her, and I roar out again, gaining their attention.

The fat one freezes as Crash tackles him to the ground, punching him several times while a man a few inches shorter than me, looking rough, quickly turns and lifts his gun. I grab mine and beat him to it as I shoot, not once, not twice, but three times as I run past him.

One bullet hits his shoulder, another hits his heart, and the last one hits his mouth.

His body drops, but I pay no mind as I hear another gunshot, knowing Crash killed the other man as I run onto the ice, slipping slightly as I go to my wife.

Please, please, please!

I slip beside her before gently lifting her, and her head lolls to her side, a nasty bruise already forming from where she's hit the ice. I choke seeing a bullet wound in her arm, and I shout, “Trick!” knowing I can’t assess her, I’m not in my right mind.

The man skids beside me and mutters, “Fuck, I hate the ice,” before he checks my wife over, looking at her arm first, and he sighs.

“It’s through and through, it didn’t hit anything,” he rasps before checking her pulse, and he relaxes. “Pulse is strong, hitting her head most likely knocked her out, but I need to run some tests, let's stabilize the bleeding and then try and get her off this fucking ice.”

A sob works its way up, and I can’t help but let it release as I hold my wife closer to me. My body shakes, seeing her lying in her own blood just like I did with my son…it is too much to fucking handle.

Trick grips my shoulder in support while I let my emotions out, the struggle to breathe too fucking hard.

I nearly lost her again, but this time, permanently.

Chapter 28

Alexiana

Pain hits me out of nowhere, my arm killing, but my head, oh ouch…

I feel like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer, and I know I must have fallen and hit my head on the ice like I did when I was seven. I ended up in the emergency room that time with an ugly concussion.

I think that was the only time I actually saw true worry in my mom’s eyes.

I squeeze my eyes tightly and go to move my left hand but a grip on it has me opening my eyes. I turn and lock eyes with my husband’s tearful ones and everything comes back to me like a bad movie and he chokes, “Freckles, I can’t take seeing you or our son be shot at again,” and I squeeze his hand seeing the redness in his eyes, the fear.

“Kay-Kayden?” I croak, seeing it’s already dark outside.

“With my mom,” he admits, and I nod, but wince at the sharp shooting pain and Hayes chokes, “Be careful, baby, you have a concussion.” I wince but squeeze his hand so he knows I heard him, afraid talking would hurt, while I slowly look around the room.

It looks like a hospital room, yet the rustic walls say otherwise.

“You’re in the club medical room, baby, after we got you a head CT, Trick managed to get you transferred here,” Hayes whispers, and I hum in acknowledgement just as the door opens and Knuckles walks in. My husband sniffles gaining my attention and the image of that guy enters my mind, him gripping Mom’s head and twisting it when she tried to run to my dad, to stop him from shooting me and I begin to tremble.

“Tell me,” I choke, and a few tears fall down my husband's cheek, which has me flinching.

“Your mama had her neck broken, she died instantly,” he whispers, not sugar coating it, “I killed your father while Crash killed the Charger.”

I nod slowly while trying to take steady breaths.

“Sweetheart, come on, it doesn’t look that bad,” Mama says, trying her hardest not to laugh, and I scowl at her as I point to my mangled hair.

“Mama, I look like someone who belongs in a scary movie! No, actually, I look like the goddamn Chucky doll!” I snap, “Why on earth did you suddenly want to be a hairdresser?!”