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Riggs and Sullivan stop and spin back around when they hear the commotion. I can see the convention center doors ahead, but it looks like they're blocked with furniture from the inside out.
What the fuck?
"Let go!" War barks, yanking on the militia guy's arm. The guy continues moving, trying to shake out of his hold.
Two more men in those fucking t-shirts stomp War's way. My eyes take in everything around us.
Warrick's brother Ramsey is helping an older lady off the ground a few feet in the opposite direction.
Sullivan heads in his direction to help.
"This isn't your fucking business!" dick number two yells as he aims for War and the woman.
Warrick yanks on the man's arm again, and it all happens so fast. The guy spins around, jabbing something at War's face. The woman screams as blood squirts everywhere.
Dexter does some crazy fucking ninja shit and runs at the pole that frames the sidewalk. He grabs it and spins, kicking one of the two men who are still coming to aid their friend. The guy bounces backwards from a solid kick to his sternum as Dexter lets go of the pole and lands in a crouch.
Vince tackles the other guy, and my eyes fly to War. His cheek is cut to hell. I jog in his direction, but I'm still too far away.
The guy is still trying to jab at him with the pocket knife in his hand.
War grabs the guy's other arm and the woman finally gets free, but the militia guy takes a swing at War's face.
Dexter is a few feet away, helping Riggs up. I have no idea what happened there.
I'm still aiming for Warrick, but I've got no plan of action. The guy jabs his knife at War's throat and stumbles back likehe can't believe he got the hit. He's no longer got the knife, so I tackle his ass to the ground.
My fist flies at his face over and over again until all I can hear is the slick squelch of his blood as I connect.
"Enough," Dexter growls, yanking at my arm.
"Matthews!" Hawkins' deep voice catches my attention. "Clark!"
My eyes fly toward the sound. He's on the second floor of the convention center, on the patio that has tables for people to sit outside and eat.
I glance back at Vince. He's got his t-shirt off, and is holding it to Warrick's throat. I yank my phone out of my pocket and call nine-one-one, but all I get is a busy signal.
"If you're coming, then come the fuck on!" Hawkins bellows.
There's no easy route up to where he is. He's got to be twenty feet off the ground. Even with him offering a helping hand I know I won't make it.
But Dexter can.My eyes fly up to Dexter's and back to Vince. My phone slips out of my hand as I realize I'm still covered in that bastard's blood. Hawkins is leaning over the handrail and looking at us expectantly, but my eyes fly back to Vince. He's pack. I can't leave him out here with no backup.
My woman also needs me.
I don't freeze often, but I've got no goddamn clue what to do. I can't leave Vince out here alone. People are actually getting fucked up and seriously hurt. Love needs us, and I'm still fucking frozen.
I shake my head, blowing out a heavy breath.
"Take care of her," I tell Dexter. "Tell her I love her, and we'll be there as soon as we can."
"Fuck no, dude," Dex says, shaking his head. "She needsyou."
"You and Walker can handle this," I tell him. "We'll be there soon. There's no way I can get up there. I'm covered in blood, and as you always say, I'm a tubby fucker. Go on."
Dexter glances back at Hawk and then at me.
"I could use some fucking help," Vince snaps. "I need some muscle to carry him, and someone needs to hold pressure on the wound."
