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“The fuck is this guy?” Jersey asked.
“Right. Jersey, that’s Utah. Utah, Jersey. Everybody good now?” I asked, still trying to drag him along faster.
“Utah?” He hissed and planted his feet to take his arm back. He swung around way faster than he should’ve been able to move for the state that he was in and raised the gun right back to Utah’s face.
“You’re the one who’s trying to collect on her contract now?” Jersey asked.
“No,” I said before Utah could even open his mouth and grabbed Jersey by the wrist again. “No, no, no. We don’t have time to do this now. Memphis called him. He’s helping us. Please. Let’s go.”
“Don’t let him shoot me in the back,” Utah said impatiently before he turned around to watch the end of the hallway again for anyone who was still coming after us.
“I swear we can talk about this all you want once we’re out of this fucking building, J,” I whined and started to pull his arm. He winced at whatever part of his body I was hurting, and I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet, but I pulled again because we needed to move. He caved after that one and lowered the gun again. I kept my hold on his hand that time and power-walked my way back toward the door.
That door swung open as I reached for it. Jersey managed to push me out of the way and against the wall to kill the two men who thought they were just going to walk right inside. He looked at the gun for a second after that and tossed it straight to the ground when he noticed the slide was all the way back. I immediately reached into the jacket that I was wearing to unfasten the gun that was holstered against my chest and handed it to Jersey. Even with only one eye to see out of currently, he’d be way more effective with the gun than I ever would.
“Go,” Utah urged again. “They won’t take a gunfight to the streets. We just need to get off this lot.”
“You don’t know Bryson,” I said, suddenly very worried about Jersey having to walk all the way to where the truck was parked from here.
“Don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Jersey said. We made it nearly half way across the lot of the warehouse before there was more gunfire from behind us.
“Just keep moving,” Utah said and swung back around to face whoever was shooting at us. Jersey tried to stop too.
“Nope,” I said and continued pulling his hand. “You don’t get to stop, J.”
“He’s going to need help,” Jersey said.
“We need help. Keep walking,” I argued.
An astounding level of deep and dull pain exploded from my right shoulder blade and blew me forward right out of Jersey’s grasp, where my head promptly met the asphalt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
jersey
I collapsed to the pavement right there beside her to roll Trista to her back.
“She’s got a vest on!” That other fucking punk shouted. I ripped her jacket open to see it for myself before I was able to breathe again. There was no blood anywhere that I could see, aside from the small trickle coming from the little gash on her forehead from where she hit the ground. I’d never be able to pick her up and carry her to wherever the fuck we were supposed to be going in my body’s current condition. And that kid was obviously fucking useless at covering people while retreating. I went right back to where he was trying to pick off men as they came out of the building from which we’d escaped and grabbed his shoulder.
“Take her. Lead the way,” I said and held my hand out toward him. “Give me the gun.”
He only glared at me for a brief second before his brain seemed to grasp what needed to happen and he flipped the gun to place the grip in my hand. He hoisted Trista right up over his shoulder and started to run. At least he was able to do that much correctly. I paused to fire at another set of men who were trying to sneak their way between parked vehicles before I trailed behind Trista and that boy. I kept up as best I could while still having to stop and check behind us every few feet too. Our new friend slowed significantly once we were out of that parking lot to give me a chance to actually catch up to them. He didn’t wait long though. As soon as I was within a few feet, he was walking again. I wouldn’t normally think of myself as a bitch, but my body was very much trying to give out on this walk. Everything I had left went into making it this far.
“New Jersey!” That kid yelled. “She’s coming back around.”
That perked me up just slightly; just enough to pick up the pace again to catch up as he tried to lower Trista to her feet. My blood should have boiled at the sight of his hands on her hips while he tried to stabilize her. Instead, my blood felt like it was trying to stop flowing entirely. I dropped to my knees before I actually reached the two of them.
“Son of a bitch,” that kid hissed. “I can’t carry both of you and kill everybody else.”
Lightweight.
“Come on,” Trista said a second later. She was slipping her shoulders underneath my right arm to try to force me back to my feet. It took everything in my willpower to not scream while this punk shoved his body under my left arm. Every step he forced me to take that way was like touching my left arm to a live wire where all the electricity was directed straight to the metal shards of the bullet that were never removed from my shoulder.
Trista slipped out from under me when we got closer to a fucking pumpkin colored truck. I about threw up when she opened the back door.
“The fuck is that? Where’s Seph?”
“Jersey, please. Just get in. We can’t stop right now,” she begged.
