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But I knew all too well the pull she had on him, because I felt it, too.
He’s just the ignorant bastard that’s taking it for granted.
“Listen,” I tell the girls. “I don’t want to interrupt. I know how long it’s been since you two got to see each other.”
"Are you kidding?" Cora laughs. "I word-vomited my entire trip in like four minutes flat. And June here is a closed book, so it's safe to say we're caught up enough for you to join."
I side-eye June and consider my options. I don't want to leave her, but I don't want to impose, and I sure as shit don't want to impede the real reason I'm here, to protect her.
“Everybody, down!” someone yells.
Two shots ring out.
I react without thinking, shielding June with my body and yanking her off of the chair and under the table. My heart races, those memories of that night in the council home rushing back over me. I fumble my hands over her, frantically searching for the blood.
“I’m fine,” June reassures me. “Simon, I’m fine.”
But I don’t believe her. The image in my mind is too vivid to shake, and I can’t suppress the fear that she’s going to die on me again.
Cora responds much slower than I do, joining us under the table and cowering next to us.
I grab her and pull her toward June, covering them both with my frame. “Are you hurt?” I ask her.
“No.” Cora’s chest heaves. “What the fuck is going on?”
I shake my head. "I don't know. Active shooter. I won't let anything happen to either of you, I promise." I rip my shirt out from its tucked-in position and pull out one of the guns on my body. I verify that it's loaded and press it into June's hands.
She eyes me seriously and takes it.
“If anyone approaches that isn’t me, you fucking shoot them. Do you hear me?” I slide the other gun out of my ankle holster and check the chamber. “Do not leave each other, and whatever you do, do not try to run. You’ll make yourself an easy target.”
“Where are you going?” June asks me.
“To kill the bastard.”
Cora stifles a gasp, but I ignore it and focus on the sounds happening within the confines of this death trap. A woman screams, feet shuffle against the floor, furniture creaks as it’s moved. Panicked whispers spread and somebody muffles something incoherently.
“Simon?” June meets my gaze. “Be careful, please.”
I run my hand along her cheek, not giving a shit how fucking inappropriate it might be. “I will, love.” I push the gun in her grasp toward her. “You know how to use it.”
She nods stiffly and I turn, still crouched but trying to get a better look before I rise completely.
A shaking couple stares at me from their spot under the table closest to us.
I press my finger to my lips to signal them to be quiet and scoot myself over near them. I scan the crowd ahead, looking for anyone who isn’t pissing themselves with fear. That’s when I spot the set of legs walking carelessly around the cowered patrons. I point my gun toward him but can’t find a clean shot. I glance back at June before I move closer to the danger zone.
Her hand clenches the gun, but not in a way that makes her appear weak, but more so that she’s ready for whatever comes her way. Her face is set in a hard line and her body gravitates toward keeping Cora concealed.
That’s my girl, protecting those she loves.
“You,” the gunman yells. “Get on your fucking feet.” He points his gun at a scrawny man hiding behind a woman. “Both of you.”
The man and woman hesitate but comply with the gunman’s demands.
She mumbles something but I can’t quite make it out.
The attacker is wearing common clothes. His hair is unkempt and if I had to guess, he hasn’t showered lately. I mean, why would you if you planned on shooting up a bar? His hands shake, the gun trembling in his grasp.
