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“What?! Oh God. No. Come with me.” she pleads, pulling me toward the door.
“I can’t. I am the only one here who knows what is going to happen, so I have to try to change it.” I tell her, shaking her hand from mine. “Just go and….” The sound of popping and screams fills the room as the man with the gun fires into the air.
“Oh, shit!” Diamond exclaims, ducking behind the counter. “What do we do?” she whispers, panic rising in her voice. I feel her panic mixing with my anxiety, but I have to stay focused.
“You call 911. Stay low and out of sight. I have to help.” “No! Stay here.” She says, shaking her head.
“Everybody hands behind your back and throw your purses and wallets in the middle of the room.” The perp screams. All around us are people panicking and crying. Pleading for their lives. So far he doesn’t know Diamond is over here and we have to keep it that way. She is going to be the lifeline to the cops. I aim to move and then a vision knocks me on my ass. It’s a man, one not in this room. This one is bigger. Stronger. His voice is like molten lava, smoky and spicy, mixed with a growl that makes me squirms. I see this man looking at me. He is saying something I can’t make out, but in it, I know I am reaching for him… toward him, this handsome stranger.
“Well, shit.” shaking my head I gather myself.
“Hey. You. Get the fuck over here.” the madman yells, pointing his gun at me. Slowly, I move toward him, hearing Diamond in my ear amid the cries in the room, on the phone with dispatch. As the gunman tracks my movements, a want to be hero launches himself at him and bullets fly from the gun during the struggle. Some get up and run out the door as I search for the little boy I saw catch a stray bullet in my vision.
I hear the scream before I see his mom holding him as blood gushes from his chest. I lean to come to the aide, but my head is pulled back by my ponytail. “You bitch.” he says before dragging me toward the door with him.
“Please. You can end this and run away.” I tell him to try to keep him calm long enough to help them arrive.
“Shut the fuck up.” he says, snatching my head harder. I yelp, the motion painful and restricting.
“I’m sorry.” I whimper, trying to appease him. He puts the gun against my back before shoving me forward toward the door. It’s then I see the flashing red and blue.
“Fuck!” he yells, knowing he is blocked in. It is when he turns me I see the Branch Devil’s tattoo on his arm, and I know I am in more trouble than a little bit. He reaches for my purse and grabs my wallet. “I know who you are, and I will never forget.” That is the last I hear before everything goes black.
Chapter Two
Loid
“Shit.” Stumbling back against the wall, I lean against the wall as I am struck by this feeling of angst. My chest is constricting, and my vision is being blocked.
“March are you alright man?” Busby asks, hitting my back. Fuck. I need to pull it together. This is not the time for this…whatever the fuck is happening.
“Yeah man. I am fine. Is it time?” he nods his head.
“Yes. We need to escort the widow to the courtroom.” Shaking my head attempting to clear the fog that has shrouded me, I take a deep breath and on wobbly legs I make my way to the place we had her waiting. I walk into the room, and every ounce of rage I hold inside of me from my childhood and being in the marines, comes flooding back as I see this waif of a woman, tucked into the corner of the room, afraid of her own shadow. “Elena. It’s time.'' I lower my voice knowing she is triggered by loud sounds.
Nodding, she walks behind me as I take up the front and Busby in the rear. We are not allowed in the courtroom; they are afraid we will intimidate the Jury. Bullshit if you ask me. They don’t want us there because the witnesses will be more intimidated without our protection there.
It's this part of our organization that I love and loathe the most. See, when I was twenty-one, I joined the marines after years of neglect and abuse from my parents and not knowing what my path in life was supposed to be. It’s there, in the service, that I found my family. Nine other guys, who like me, were searching for something and found themselves here. My passion. My calling. My squad, the 88th regimen nighthawks and I went all over the world saving and rescuing politicians, putting down totalitarian leaders and putting villages back together. We were the crazy fucks jumping out of choppers into unknown territory, guns blazing. We went through three tours, and all decided to retire together.
