Page 43 of Johny B

We had riddenat a ludicrous speed, that would have made it hard for the Sherrif to turn a blind eye, to only take us fifteen minutes or the abouts, to get to Scarlett’s apartment. When I found the door still ajar, and the sight of Violet’s pot broken on the floor, I’d lost my shit. Stone quickly reasoned with me, shaking me out of my rage and grasping for my phone to check the tracking. It showed that she was on the move, not far from where JB had reported the DVI’s were hanging. It was quickly confirmed when my phone rang.

Ghost, who had been watching the place in case we needed to go in and grab JB out of there in a rush, was telling me that after seeing a woman being pulled from the trunk of a car, he’d moved in for a closer look, only then had he realized that it was Scarlett. He’d wanted to go in there and then to get her out of there, but the numbers were against him, however good the fucker is, so I told him to wait, that we were on our way but would need his input as soon as we got there.

We’d all scrambled back onto our rides and taken off like the devil, in seek of the guilty who would be destined for hell for this.

Breaching the premises was easy, especially as Ghost had a clear layout of the building. The two guards that they had circling the perimeter were easy targets. Ghost seeing to one, Mayhem the other, while the rest of us made our way inside. Their job done both followed behind, covering our backs when the shit started; fist fights, gunshots, breaking down doors. The tracker showed Scarlett was here, but it wasn’t clear exactly where. It didn’t take long for us to deduce that she must be on an upper level.

Three guys had come bursting out of a door at the top of the stairs, firing shots off erratically. We took cover, but it soon was clear that Dunne’s men were amateurs with zero weapon skills. They couldn’t hit a cow’s ass with a banjo, so it wasn’t hard for us to pick them off, one by one quickly.

At first, I thought of nothing other than getting to Scarlett. Although, finding JB laying with his head against her chest, pleading with her, his devastation almost choking him while he blurted out his love, had me stumbling for a moment. But my need to get to her was strong, so I pulled him away and took his spot. When she pushed herself to the limit, searching for just a glance of him, I was no longer blind to what I had desperately tried to ignore.

What we saw in that room had even my stomach rolling. The air had a metallic smell, and blood and brain fragments splattered the floor. Paddy (Jimmy) Dunne, was now barely recognizable after JB had pulverized his face with the Shamrock-encased paperweight. Talk about the luck of the Irish. Dunne had found his lucky charm in a rather unconventional way.

Dunne was fucking dead. JB had made sure of that. Although I hate to admit it, JB had done good, but I can’t deny that I’m also as pissed as fuck with him for robbing me of the chance to make Dunne suffer by my own hand.

It wasn’t until I’d shouted out orders, moving a foot or two away from Scarlett after realizing that she needed medical attention urgently, that I became aware JB was down too, and being hauled off the floor by Mammoth and Edge.

I’d grabbed Stone to find out what the fuck happened, but he’d just shrugged. Fortunately, Ghost had shot Doc a message once things started going down, so he’d been pulling up outside. After checking them both over, Doc concluded that nothing was life threatening, and neither were in need of hospitalization.

Scarlett had a slight concussion, emotional trauma and exhaustion, and required observation and pain meds. She was up and stubbornly wanting to see JB within a few hours. It was clear that she was bottling up her emotional pain at what she’d been through, the need to see him taking precedence.

JB’s diagnosis was somewhat of a surprise to us all, and not something we had heard of or would have guessed at either.

The strong adrenaline surge had caused his body’s ‘fight or flight’ response to overreact to an emotional trigger, causing a condition called vasovagal syncope. I think that’s what Doc called it. That, as well as the puncture wound on his side from a chunk of wood where Dunne had hit him, had put him into a state of unconsciousness. Although normally only for a short time, in his case, his brain had put his body into a temporary shutdown, to rest and recharge, and it was more than forty-eight hours before he’d started to come around and then only momentarily before he’d slip back into a deep sleep.

Scarlett had stayed by his bed as much as I’d allowed because she was still recovering, so I’d begged her to let Mammoth take up some of the vigil.

I checked in too occasionally, but only Mammoth was privy to that, and sworn to keep his trap shut.

Now JB is up and moving around, I’m giving him another twenty-four hours, but after that, we need to talk.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Johny B

The cool shower I’d just taken had cleared the last of the haze, that had been filling my head since I’d finally woken up early yesterday. Every joint of my body ached like a motherfucker, now I’m just stiff, much like my dick has been. Guess even when your brain needs to take a time out, you can still have morning wood.

I wrap a fresh, clean towel around my hips, then use the back of my hand to swipe the steam from the mirror and look at my reflection.

At least today, my complexion is less pallid than yesterday. When I lean closer to the mirror, I can still see the yellow remnants of bruising on my cheekbone, but that should be gone within a day or two.

I squirt a ball of shaving foam into the palm of my hand and start to work it over the stubble on my chin right up to my ears. I contemplate shaving my head too, but as I turn my head from side-to-side surveying how it looks now it’s grown out some, I decide I kinda like it. Picking up the cutthroat razor, I slide itopen, and with it held firmly between the tips of my fingers, I push up my jawbone, ready to start. I’m about to make the first sweep of the blade when I hear a loud knock at the door. Mammoth mentioned last night that he wanted to talk now that I was clear-headed, I just didn’t expect him to come this early.

“Come on in,” I shout out. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I add when I hear the door open and close again. When I don’t hear his heavy footsteps, I hesitate further.

“You need a hand with that?” I use the reflection in the mirror to see if it’s really her and not my mind still playing tricks on me before I turn to face her. Red hair loose and cascading around her shoulders, eyes sparkling like precious stones, lips framing her perfectly white teeth. She honors me with a heart-splintering smile, looking absolutely stunning and hot as Hades leaning seductively against the open-door frame.

“You’re so fucking pretty, the sight of you might throw me back into a catatonic state.” I take a step towards her with every intent of kissing the fuck out of her, but she places a hand on my bare chest, keeping me at arm’s length. She slips the cutthroat from my fingers, flips the lid down on the toilet and points to it.

“Sit,” she demands. I don’t argue, I slip my ass onto the top, not once breaking eye contact with her. She steps into the space between my open thighs and pushes back my head, ready to start. “I’ve kinda got used to the new rugged, unshaven, tattooed version of you. I’m not sure I want you to go back to how you were before.” She pouts her lips and tilts her head to one side as her eyes roam my face, taking in every inch. Her fingers run over my head, fingernails scratching my scalp just enough to light a fire within my belly. “This look is much more fitting for a badass biker dude.”

I snatch the razor from her hand, giving no fucks if I nick myself with the sharp edge, and toss it into the sink.

With my hands firmly on her hips, I pull her down to me, my mouth covering hers. I break just for a second. “Whatever you fucking want, you’ve got it.” She slides into my lap easily, and it feels like she’s made specifically for me. I quickly get back to devouring her mouth. My hands skim across her warm skin, up under the olive-green t-shirt she wears.

“Fuck…” I hiss out against her lips when, instead of finding another layer of clothing to breach, I touch the naked rounds of her breasts. “You want this?” I question, brushing my thumbs over the already hard nipples, hoping to God that it is and that I’m not going too fast for her. But when I’m met with a breathy yes, I grab the bottom of her top and pull it clear from her body. “Jesus, Scarlett, you’re fucking breathtaking.” I grab a washcloth and wipe some of the shaving foam from her cheeks where it’s transferred from me before swiping it over my own face. “Is this crazy?” I suddenly gush. “We’ve never actually fucked, yet I’m so stupidly in love with you that I know I don’t think I can live without you, Scarlett. I sure as hell don’t ever want to try.”

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