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But from what I could see, each body was still moving.
No way.
Cash jumped over to us, grabbed my other hand and started running with me and Bishop towards the door the bouncer had first led us through.
“What the hell happened?” I shrieked, still looking over my shoulder at all the men on the floor.
“Ricochets,” Bishop grinned. “Lots and lots of ricochets. Nonlethal.”
“Ricochets?” I screeched in disbelief.
“I’m lucky,” Cash laughed as he dashed up the stairs.
“If I hear another thing about your stupid luck!” I swore under my breath as I stomped up the stairs after him. Bishop followed behind me.
Luck didn’t avert the trajectory of freaking bullets!
We ran down the long dark hallway and then burst through the door to the alley. The door knocked into the bouncer standing outside, who obviously hadn’t expected us. “Hey!” he shouted.
“Run,” Cash called to Tank and Mason who’d been waiting for us.
They knew Cash well enough—and the scrapes he could get himself into—to instantly obey. Although Mason waited until he could grab my hand and pull me with him as we started sprinting down the street.
None of us stopped until we hit the main Vegas strip, where the lights were blinding after the darker back alley. I hadn’t looked behind us even once to see if the bouncer was chasing. Only now I did, but there was only Tank and Bishop huffing behind us.
We all got onto the strip, hurrying past the restaurant that was lit up like the Eiffel tower and didn’t stop until we got to the Bellagio fountain. It sang out Gaga’s Bad Romance as water bounced and flew.
Ha. The irony.
I put my hands on my hips and spun on Cash. “What the hell were you thinking?” I screamed in his face. “We could have been killed!”
He shrunk back from me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would—”
“You didn’t think. You never do. And YOU.” I turned my rage on Bishop. “What the fuck was that, going in there guns-blazing? You could have fucking died!”
Whereas Cash had the good sense to look ashamed, Bishop still had a stupid fucking smirk on his face. “I had it all under control.”
My mouth dropped open and a squeak of fury came out of my throat. “Under control?” My voice was so high, dogs would flee.
But Bishop just stared me down. “Under control.”
I could only shake my head at his ignorant arrogance. “You could have died.”
He shook his head, and by the expression on his face I could see he still wasn’t taking this seriously.
“What if Cash had been hit by one of those bullets? Or me? Would it have impacted your sociopathic brain then?” I shouted.
He just stared at me as if he didn’t know what to say.
Fine. I was so done with him. I was done with this entire fucking city.
“I’m over this.” I said with a bitter laugh, turning and stomping back the direction I thought our bus was.
“Wrong way, Princess,” Bishop’s voice rang out.
Goddamn him. I had a horrible sense of direction. I turned around and pounded the pavement past where all of them stood, not looking their way.
I felt them all melt into step behind me. They’d finally gotten smart, though, because not a one of them tried to engage me in conversation.
SIXTEEN
TANK
Things had been tense on the bus ride back from Vegas to our home base in San Francisco.
Luna had retreated to her bunk and yanked the curtain shut almost the whole ride. She wouldn’t open it for anyone, no matter how much Mason tried to get her to come out. When she cussed him out, he finally left her alone.
Bishop acted like nothing was wrong.
I was ready to get out of a cramped space with that guy. Usually it was Mason he caused friction with, but man, he was straining my last nerve. After I heard about the bullshit he pulled in that poker den... I shook my head as I pulled out my keys to the big house.
As soon as I opened the door, I winced at the noise. Somewhere a television was blaring, and in another room, voices were shouting, obviously gaming.
I sighed. My four brothers.
I’d do anything for them. Give up anything.
Once upon a time, I had. What was a soul in comparison to knowing I’d be able to take care of them for the rest of all of our lives? Of course I said yes in that bizarre dream of a shadowy neverland.
A week later, I got the gig playing bass with Faust. And it was only upwards from there.
Which was just a damn miracle. ’Cause playing was the only skill a guy like me had, other than changing oil.
I’d never made good grades—not with always having to skip to fill in as a parent to my brothers. Plus working at the garage five nights a week to help pay bills. But there was a ratty old bass I found in the attic of our shitty townhouse in East San Jose. I hid it from Mom as long as I could and learned to play in the eight months I had it before she found it and sold it for booze.
