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“Looks pretty over.”
“There’s still the issue of who stole from them,” Junior insisted.
“Oh, that. Figured that out yesterday,” A said, and I could feel Junior tense.
“Hey, not to interrupt or anything,” Junior’s dad butted in, “But I think maybe we should leave the crime scene now.”
“Aight,” A said, using the edge of his shirt to wipe down the chair he’d sat in.
Then, like nothing at all had happened, he turned, and jumped out the damn cargo door.
“Let’s go,” Jackson’s dad said.
“Give me that,” Junior said, taking the gun, tucking it into his waistband, then grabbing my bloody hand, and dragging me along with him.
I was pretty sure I only moved because he tugged me along, because I couldn’t seem to connect my mind and my body right then. We ran through the woods on the side of the building before breaking onto a side street where a SUV, car, and truck were waiting.
“Meet you back at your place,” Junior’s dad said as he collected all the guns.
With that, everyone separated.
Junior had to pick me up into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat and pulling off. Driving away from the highway, taking the back roads.
“Is she okay?” Barry asked, and I was aware of his gaze on me, but my focus was out the window, everything kind of blurring as we drove.
“She’ll be okay,” Junior said, sounding a lot more sure than I felt as my mind kept replaying Jorge’s head exploding until I felt bile rise up my throat and had to choke it back down.
“What happened to her face?” Barry asked.
“What?” Junior barked, his gaze finding me in the rearview.
“He hit me,” I said, my voice sounding robotic to my own ears.
A growling sound escaped Junior, but he said nothing as he drove.
“Are you bleeding, Boss?” Barry asked, making my gaze slide up toward the front seat, seeing the blood smeared on the steering wheel.
“No,” he said, tone clipped.
When we pulled up to Junior’s apartment, Jackson, his father, and A were already standing out front waiting for us.
By the time Junior and Barry climbed out, Junior’s father’s truck pulled up as well.
The door at my side opened, and Junior moved in, reaching for me. I must have flinched as my memory flashed back to being pulled out of the last SUV, because Junior’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.
“I’m just helping you out, doll,” he said, fingers gentle as he helped me out. “We need to get you inside, okay?” he asked.
I followed him on numb legs up into the elevator, then into his apartment.
It didn’t occur to me until Junior was leading me to the bed that no one else had followed us into the loft.
“One second,” he said as he pressed me to the edge of the mattress.
With that, he moved away. When he came back he had a wet washcloth, and was scrubbing my hands free of blood. His own were already clean.
Then he lifted an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel to my cheek.
“You okay?” he asked.
