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Tangy, musky adrenaline and blood.
I tried to stand, but my body refused to move. Somehow, I was able to crawl toward the open front door, but I was too weak to stand. Too weak to scream for help.
If I could just get downstairs to a phone…
Smoke continued to pummel Knox. Panic filled my throat as I saw Knox flip Smoke over using moves he’d learned in mixed martial arts.
How quickly the brawl had turned in favor of Knox. Smoke took an elbow to the face which split the skin of his forehead. Blood began to flow into Smoke’s eyes, and he hastily swiped at his face, hoping to see.
They pushed and pulled, elbowed and grappled. One moment Smoke was winning, the next Knox. Time ceased to move.
Finally, Smoke shoved Knox off him again and attacked like a pit bull. Smoke pinned Knox to the ground with a massive arm. Muscles bulged and veins popped, rippling his tattoos so they looked alive beneath his skin.
I watched in mute horror as Knox pulled a knife from his pocket. Smoke screamed as Knox thrust a knife over and over into his lower abdomen. Smoke immediately began wrestling for control of the blade, but he lost his balance and fell backward. Blood spewed from the wounds in his side.
Knox spit bloody saliva onto the floor and then rose to stand above Smoke. He dropped the knife and watched as Smoke lay in a pool of blood, unable to rise.
Knox looked at me and then back at Smoke, and then calmly said, “The last thing you’re going to see before you die is me fucking your whore.”
A whimper of fear escaped my lips.
Knox stalked toward me, blocking my view of Smoke.
I stared into Knox’s terrifying gaze as I heard the faintest rustling of Smoke moving—and then a gunshot drowned out every other sound in the room.
Knox’s body jerked and fell, and blood poured from his head.
Bile climbed up my throat, but I shoved it down. My hands were cold and I shook with fear, but I had to get to Smoke.
“Smoke,” I cried. I scrambled toward him even as my body screamed in pain.
He was propped up against the wall, his mouth moving, but no words escaping. His white shirt had bloomed red, like someone had taken a paint can and turned it over onto him. His head lolled onto his chest and his hand still held the pistol.
I pressed my hand to his wounds and he lifted his head for a moment and then grunted in pain.
“Help!” I yelled. “Help, someone, please!”
It was useless. We were on our own. I had to get someone, but how was I going to leave Smoke long enough to run downstairs and—
The sound of frantic footsteps echoed in the distance and suddenly Jazz appeared in the open doorway of the apartment.
My eyes met hers.
“What the fuck happened?” she blurted out as she pulled out her cell phone, her fingers flying across the screen. A few seconds of silence went by, then she commanded, “I need an ambulance at Pie in the Sky. There’s been a shooting and someone is badly injured…”
I tuned out everything around me. Jazz’s voice faded into the background as she answered questions for the 911 operator. I kept my hands firmly on Smoke’s wounds, willing them to close. Willing him to survive. Praying for the bleeding to stop.
“Smoke,” I whispered.
His eyes fluttered open.
“Hey,” I said, trying to smile. “There you are. Stay with me.”
“I’m here.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“You came back.”
“Missed…you. Didn’t…want…you…to…be…” He struggled to take a breath. “Alone.”
