Page 14 of Knockout Queen

As soon as my brain catches up with my physical body, I run toward Mag. My hearing returns in stages. Mag’s even yet harsh breaths fill the hallway as we move toward the elevator. The guards in the hall look away, giving Mag the respect he deserves, but not in any way shocked about what just happened. It’s as if they all expected it. Did fucking Mag know this was going to happen? Getting shot because Johnny got taken?

I ask myself this all the time, but what kind of fucking world is this?

“You didn’t have to do that,” Brawler says when we get in the elevator.

“He was going to do it to me anyway,” Mag says, leaning half on Brawler and half against the back wall.

“You knew?” I ask, confirming my suspicions. He just walked in. Hell, he returned to the tower, even when he knew that was going to happen. The balls on this guy. Fuck.

“That’s how things work,” Mag says.

“In a fucking crazy world.”

“Shh,” he chastises, then sucks in a breath when the elevators open.

We go straight for Mag’s apartment. Out of the choice between mine and his, his is the best bet on actually having what’s needed to deal with this new wound.

We take him in and set him on the couch. For being shot, he’s being surprisingly calm, gritting through what must be pain to put on a brave face for us.

“First-aid kit?” Brawler asks.

“On top of the fridge.”

Brawler retreats while I drop to my knees in front of him. I help him unclasp the buttons on his pants and maneuver them carefully down, revealing the small wound still leaking dark crimson blood.

Mag peeks down and sighs. “Through and through. He barely got me.”

“This is insane,” I say, heart pumping loudly in my chest as I watch the blood seep through his fingers. This reminds me so much of the night of the shootout when he was hit in the arm. He was casual about that, too, bandaging himself. He’s done this to himself too many times.

Brawler returns with the first-aid kit and within minutes, the entry and exit points are cleaned and bandaged. Magnum pops a couple of pills and lies back.

“Why the fuck would he do that?” I seethe, still staring at Magnum’s wound, not understanding.

“To teach me, and everyone else, a lesson. Not doing your job has consequences.” Brawler sits back on the coffee table. I reach out for Magnum’s hand, and he squeezes mine. He looks over at Brawler. “I know you have to get home, man. Go check on your Mom. I’m good. Kyla can take care of me.”

I squeeze his hands a little tighter while Brawler hesitates.

“Seriously,” Mag says again. “I dropped Oscar home, so he wouldn’t be involved. It’s best if you lie low for a bit. Get everything better at home, and we’ll all talk soon.”

Brawler leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. He runs his hand down my arm before getting to his feet and heading toward the door. “Lock this behind me,” he says.

He leaves, and I get to my feet, doing exactly as he said before returning to the couch. “Can you get me an ice pack from the freezer?”

I nod, grabbing the pack and returning to find Mag stretched out on the couch lengthwise. He reaches for the ice pack, and I place it in his hand. He lifts his shirt and places the gel pack on the bandages before pulling his shirt back down to cover it.

I bite my lip. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay? Doesn’t the Crew have a doctor we can go see?”

“It’ll be fine, Kyla. The doc won’t be able to do any more for it than I just did. Just come here.” He motions me toward him and scoots to the edge of the sofa, leaving me room between his body and the couch. I carefully maneuver myself there, placing my head at the junction of his arm and torso. I reach my hand over his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat under his shirt. The longer we lie there, the more exhaustion tries to yank me under. Mag runs his fingers through my hair. “Don’t fight it, beautiful. We can’t do anything more right now.” Even as he says it, he brings his phone out of his pocket and pulls up an app. His screen pulls up a feed of us right now. He rewinds the time-stamped video and then watches it on fast forward.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure no one came into my room while we were gone.”

“Bugs?” I guess. If K doesn’t trust us right now, it wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to watch over us.

He shifts on the sofa and lets out a long breath. “I should’ve looked as soon as we came in.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re shot. I could’ve done it.”

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