Page 2 of Knockout Queen

Brawler wraps his hands around me from behind, dragging me backward a few feet. “We just have to wait.”

“Fuck that,” I snarl. Desperation triggers my muscles to move. I push away from Brawler, heading in the opposite direction the fireman went. I scan the building, looking for another door, looking for Oscar, for anything. All the while, Johnny’s pained expression stays forefront in my mind. If there’s a chance we can save Oscar, I’m going to do it. Then, I’m going to kill whoever took Johnny, make them suffer like I know he’s suffering right now.

Magnum and Brawler flank me as we make our way around the side of the building. A cop stands in front of a barricade that leads down the alleyway between this building and the next. He straightens when he sees us moving toward him. We must look like a sight. Brawler and I in fight gear, but looking like we took a bath in char. Then, there’s Mag, the ever-steady sentinel whose usual calm demeanor is marred by the sweat and fallen embers that litter his clothes.

“You can’t go back there,” he says. “It’s been deemed unsafe.”

“We’re looking for our friend. He was in there,” I say again. Panic has taken control over my voice until I barely recognize it. It’s high and squeaky, riddled with heartache.

The cop’s lips thin. He gives me a pitying look that does nothing but anger me. “Listen, you’re better off heading back the way you came and then give his name to—”

I don’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. I fake him out, squeezing past him and ducking under the white and orange roadblock that acted as a barrier. My feet slap the uneven pavement as I take off at a run. No doubt I’ll have cuts and scrapes on the bottom of my feet, but I don’t feel anything right now, other than the determination to find Oscar no matter where he is.

Luckily, the other end of the alleyway isn’t manned yet. I turn the corner, scanning the wall for a different entrance. This side of the building isn’t quite so chaotic with people, so hope blooms inside me. If I could just find a door. Something. Anything.

Except for blown-out windows, the fire hasn’t even reached this side of the building. I skip over the glass as best I can until a scream pierces the air.

I spin on my heel. Further down the block, a gang of guys spill out of an alleyway. Hands shove a dark-haired boy to his knees and aim a gun at his head. Fear crawls its way up my throat. That’s Oscar. “No!”

I run toward them. They’ve angled themselves away from the building, so I can’t see what’s happening, but I don’t stop. The burning in my lungs increases, but my gaze narrows ahead with laser focus. I leap toward the taut shoulder of the asshole holding a gun to my boyfriend, tackling him with the force of my body. We go down hard, and the gun slips from his hand and skids across the concrete.

Hands grab for me, but I posture up and bring my fist down on the back of the guy’s head. His head cracks against the sidewalk in front of us. Knocked out from the impact, he doesn’t move, but that’s not good enough for me. Rage fuels my movements. I pick his head up and slam it into the concrete again and again. Blood rushes over my fingers and pools on the concrete below us.

“I’d stop if I were you,” a voice says.

I throw the lifeless head back to the ground and gaze up into a barrel of a gun. The same gun that skidded over the concrete. I don’t dare look away from it, not to even peek two feet to my right where Oscar should be to make sure he’s okay. Instead, I stare down the abrupt end to my life.

2

Agunshot cracks through the air, and I wince, waiting for the explosion of pain to hit. It never comes.

I open my eyes. The guy who was holding the gun is now face-down in front of me. A second shot rings out. I jump, but a lifeless hand lands to my left seconds later. A stampede of footfalls barrel toward me. I blink, finding Magnum and Brawler running this way, Magnum shoving his gun back into the waistband of his pants.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. That crack shot of a man. Hallelujah. They never made it around the policeman like I did but thank fuck they’re here.

I scramble off the guy I’m still towering over. He moans, but he won’t be going anywhere for a while, so I crawl toward Oscar.One Kyle and Anna. Two Kyle and Anna. He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay, I tell myself. The sidewalk bruises my knees, but that’s a pain I can handle. The one that screams in my brain, wondering if something is seriously wrong with Oscar? That one I can’t.

Brawler gets to Oscar first. He lays his fingers on his neck and closes his eyes. Within a moment, he breathes out an easy breath.

A sob works its way out of me. Heisokay.

When I get to him, we turn Oscar over. His lids flutter open. Cuts and bruises litter his face, and red marks mar his perfectly tan skin. His mouth opens, and then he winces before saying, “Princesa?”

I wrap my hand around his, biting my lip at this variation of my nickname. Emotion threatens to barrel right out of me. “I’m right here,” I tell him.

He smirks. “I came to save you.” His bloodied, cracked lips are still so perfect I could kiss him.

I chuckle, the deliriousness coming back. “Nice try, Drego, but it looks like it was my turn to save you.”

He tries to get up and groans, hugging his free hand to his stomach. “Why do they always go for the ribs? Fucking assholes.”

Tears threaten my eyes, but a joking Oscar is a living Oscar, and that’s all I want.

He surveys our group, looking to see who’s here and who’s not. Looking for the one person we’re missing. He tilts his head to the side. “Um, Princess?”

A lump the size of my frail heart lodges in my throat. I blink away the tears as I inspect him. He’s clean. Other than the fact that he looks like he got the shit kicked out of him, it doesn’t appear as if he was in the fire or the explosions or anything. He’s certainly not as dirty as the rest of us. “You’re okay?” I ask, doubtful and not totally trusting what I see. There must be something wrong with him. Internally, perhaps? I continue to scan him, but he only nods. It’s too much. I throw myself at him. A half sob-half crazed laugh escapes my throat. “I’m so happy.”

He pulls his hand through my hair. “You don’t sound happy, Princess,” he whispers, pulling me close and cupping the back of my head as I let the warmth of his skin melt into mine. For a brief moment, it’s like heaven. Then, he asks the question all of us want to know. “Where’s Johnny?”

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