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“Ooh, kitty’s got claws—”
Bob ate Cash’s fist, the sharp crack of broken teeth splitting the air. Their former coach went flying, landing on his fat ass with a hard thud on the casino floor.
What happened next was absolute pandemonium.
Casino guests gasped, shouting as they hastily ran for safety. The paparazzi pushed and pulled, some trying to get pictures of the fistfight while others tried to get to Julia.
One of them made the mistake of grabbing her by the arm. Red made sure the man regretted it, punching him in the gut so hard it winded the poor bastard.
Now people were taking pictures of Red beating on the photographer while casino security attempted to break up the commotion.
I tried pulling Cash off Bob but wound up getting kicked in the jaw for my efforts. He drove his heel into Cash’s knee — the same one he ordered McConnell to aim for during their fight.
Cash let out a roar of pain and agony, crumpling in on himself. Hopped up on adrenaline and fury, I let loose, no longer able to keep whatever shred of logic about me. I started pummeling Bob, too, punching and kicking to serve him his penance.
It wasn’t long before the police arrived, adding to the chaos. It was an endless barrage of shouting, fighting, and desperate pleas to stop the madness. An officer took Julia by the arm to lead her away from the chaos, and I lost it.
A burning protectiveness made my body seize .Nobodyput their hands on our woman.
The next thirty seconds were a blur. All I could remember was watching the officers pull out their tasers, aim it at the three of us, and fire.
My whole body seized, every muscle contracting so painfully tight that I saw spots. The next thing I knew I was face-down on the ground.
I was vaguely aware of Julia crying somewhere above us. The sharp cold metal of handcuffs bit into my wrists, every inch of my body simultaneously numb and also on fire.
Everything that happened afterward came in odd flashes. I must have passed out at some point because I blinked and suddenly found myself in the back of a police vehicle. I blinked again and I woke up in a jail cell, Red seated next to me on the cold, hard bench. Cash was noticeably absent, and so was Julia.
My ears were ringing. My knuckles were skinned and bruised.
They locked us up for five or six hours. It could have been a whole day for all I could tell. When Patrick finally showed up to take us home, he looked none too pleased.
“Cash is in the hospital,” he informed us gravely.
“Is he alright?” I asked, voice hoarse and foreign in my own ear.
Patrick pressed his lips into a thin line. “No. No he most certainly is not.”
