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Bang! Bang! Bang!
I knew it wouldn’t have taken long for word to get back to Optimus about gunshots at the gym. I glanced over at Deacon, who stood, arms folded in the middle of our little kitchen. I sighed and rubbed at my temples as I walked to the door.
I’d barely even flicked the lock when the door came swinging open, almost knocking me off my feet. My feet were off the floor before I had time to speak. One arm around my waist and a hand pressed against the back of my head.
“I got you, Blackbird,” he said quietly in my ear. “I got you.”
I clung to his leather, my body craving his smell, his touch, and his voice.
“Op, I’m okay,” I mumbled into his chest but at the same time I attempted to pull him even closer.
He lifted me off my feet, my legs unconsciously wrapping around his waist and my arms around his neck as he carried me further into the apartment. The heavy sound of boots followed us and I peeked over Op’s shoulder to see Leo, Blizzard, Slider and Ham fill the small space. The room was silent for a few minutes until Optimus slowly began to lower me to my feet.
It wasn’t long before he spun on Deacon. “What the fuck kind of shit are you into that you have people shooting up the front of your store?” he roared.
Obviously, he had no idea who had shot up the store and that they were actually there for me. “Op, that’s not it—”
“That’s rich considering they were after her, not me,” Deacon shot back. “Want to let me in on why the Italian Mafia has it out for Chelsea?”
Optimus stormed to him, but Deacon held his ground. I tried to get to them, but Leo held me back with two hands on my shoulders.
“And how the fuck would you know anything about the Italian Mafia,” Optimus growled, pointing at Deacon accusingly.
Deacon looked over Op’s shoulder with a smart ass smirk on his face. “He really hasn’t figured it out.”
Optimus gripped the front of Deacon’s shirt in his fists, lifted him off the ground and slammed him back against the door of my fridge. “I’m about five seconds away from putting a bullet in you myself if you don’t start talking—”
“Optimus, stop!” I yelled, trying to get away from Leo unsuccessfully.
“Five.”
I saw Deacon’s smug smirk as Op lowered him to the ground and reached into the waistband at the back of his jeans to pull out his piece. Deacon was just looking for an excuse to lock Optimus and the boys away. I wasn’t sure what his vendetta was, but he was about to get his wish.
“Four.”
“Optimus, don’t…please!” I pleaded.
“Three.”
“He’s a cop,” I yelled and Optimus froze instantly, turning his attention from the man in front of him back to me. My body sagged, but the relief was short-lived. “He’s a Goddamn cop.”
Deacon looked a little disappointed.
“Why the fuck are you hanging out with a cop, Chelsea?” he growled.
“I didn’t know until just before at the gym,” I said, my body completely exhausted and ready to crumble.
Optimus moved away from Deacon but kept his gun tucked in his hand. He watched him with only his eyes, even as his body moved into different angles.
“Get out,” he growled, gesturing for Deacon to use the door.
“No.” Deacon stood his ground, seemingly undisturbed by Optimus’ air of authority that filled the room.
“This has nothing to do with you,” Optimus told him, no longer letting his emotions control the situation. He was back to stern, and straight-faced. “You need to leave.”
“Chelsea works for me, and whether you like it or not, she’s my friend.” Deacon moved to walk around the table, but I threw myself in between them, pushing against his chest until he was back in the kitchen.
I heard a loud snort behind me. “Yeah sure,” Blizzard scoffed. “You’ve had a hard-on for Chelsea since well before she left the club. And you just conveniently had a job become available practically the day that she walked out on the club.”
