Page 19 of Beautiful Soldier
Coward.
“I’m coming with you,” I say, getting to my feet and facing Magnum.
He sighs. “I knew you were going to do this.”
“Johnny will get pissed,” Brawler offers.
I shrug. “I want to know what happened to Farmingham. Plus, I’m in the Crew now and K gave us an order. I’m rolling with it.” I head toward the door. “Be ready in five. I just need to change.”
Mag and Brawler exchange a look, but I ultimately win, and it’s mine and Brawler’s asses parked in the back of the car as we make our way to the old warehouse.
8
We arrive at the rundown warehouse, and a flood of emotions almost bowls me over. For starters, this place looks a lot shittier in the middle of the day. Little things stick out, like the litter of human waste on the sidewalk leading toward the alley. Cigarette butts, empty McDonald’s fries pouches, plastic wrappers, and just general trash dropped and forgotten.
When we step inside, though, it’s back to normal. The place looks the same as I remembered it, except it smells a little better without the raging fighters’ sweat and blood pooled over the ground. The same dim lighting leaves the shitty pallet-like seating in a haze. The place lacks the raucous crowd, making the area feel both bigger and void of life.
My heart squeezes painfully. I miss this. Brawler’s fingers tangle in mine momentarily, and I glance over to find him staring. His resolute blue eyes shine, and I know he’s following my train of thought. From what I’ve gathered, they shut the fights down. The cops were out in full force, so they didn’t want to dangle the underground fights in their faces like a carrot. A snowflake can turn into an avalanche quickly.
“Any idea where this...body is supposed to be?” Brawler whispers. His trained eye searches the interior. He knows this place better than anyone.
Magnum shrugs but moves forward on confident legs. He’s stealth, hands at his sides, eyes darting everywhere. “I don’t know much about the kid, but he was here, and he wasn’t supposed to be. Where do you think he’d be if that’s the case?”
Brawler’s gaze tracks upward. At once, we all look with him at the box they built for Johnny and the other higher-ups in the Crew to sit while watching the fights. I’ve spent my fair share of time up there, too, and yeah, it’s by far the most comfortable spot in the building. Why Farmingham would be up there, I don’t know, but he certainly wouldn’t find a better spot unless he likes chipped tile in bathrooms.
Magnum takes his gun out of the waistband of his pants and edges forward. His knees are bent, arms outstretched in front of him with his finger already on the trigger. “Watch her.”
Brawler moves me behind him as we follow Mag up the steps. There’s no getting around the creaks of our footfall on the old wood, so hopefully, whoever killed Farmingham is long gone, not waiting around to watch this play out.
“How did someone even find him?” I whisper.
Brawler reaches back for my hand, and I put mine in his. He gives it a squeeze. “I’m not the only one who comes in and out of here. Anyone with a key could’ve found him and reported it.”
Magnum crouches as we approach the box with its face full of windows. We’re staying just under the ledge to remain hidden. He climbs to the landing then turns to look at us. “I’ll check the place out. The vantage point isn’t ideal, so stay back until I tell you it’s safe.”
Brawler and I both nod. My stomach tumbles over itself as Magnum prepares to enter the room. He knows what he’s doing, but that doesn’t make it any less scary to find someone you care about seconds away from potentially putting himself in danger.
Magnum reaches out with his left hand to turn the doorknob. The catch releases, and he steps back, letting the door open on its own. He waits until there’s just enough space to allow him through before he lifts himself to full height and charges in. He cases the room like I’ve seen Navy Seals do on TV. I can’t lie and say watching him doesn’t turn me on, but that’s doused in a fraction of a second when he calls out, “Stay the fuck back.”
Just the tone in his voice, I can tell he’s not talking to us.
Before I can even think, Brawler moves. He doesn’t wait for Magnum’s orders. He charges in, pulling me in behind him, shielding me with his wide body. I’ll always want someone like Brawler on my side. He may get annoyed with Oscar, but he went after him last night. That wasn’t the first time either. And now, he’s just charged into a room to help out another one of our guys.
I squeeze his hands tightly, and he pulls me against him from behind, mistaking my show of emotion for fear.
“Mag…”
“What are you doing here?” Magnum demands. He hasn’t lowered the gun, so this person must not be a friend. He’s tense, shoulders bunched, still lining up his shot with the barrel aimed in front of him.
I peek around Brawler’s shoulders, which is a feat in and of itself since he’s twice my size, but I’m too curious about the man who’s shown up at the warehouses on the day Farmingham’s dead body was found. It can’t be a coincidence. Before I find the intruder, though, my gaze freezes on the prick who bullied me the first day at Rawley Heights. His arrogant expression is wiped from his face now. There’s a hole in his temple, his prone body half on the leather couch and half off. A small blanket bunches at his waist as if he was sleeping here when someone came up on him and shot him. Congealed blood puddles on the sofa and where it subsequently dripped to the floor. A smell in the air filters through my nostrils. Repugnant, but not terrible yet.
“Mack?”
Brawler bristles, and along with him, my back straightens. I peer up to find the guy they’ve both been staring at. He looks to be between Johnny and Mag’s age. Brown hair, shorn closely to his head. He has earrings adorning his ears and the flames of a tattoo licking up the side of his neck. Not to stereotype, but he definitely looks like the gang member type, so why Magnum hasn’t lowered his piece yet is beyond me. The air thickens with tension the longer the standoff continues. With my hand inside Brawler’s, he tightens his fingers to fists, almost crushing my small finger bones. Thankfully, it’s the hand I didn’t hurt in the accident.
“Did you do this?” Magnum barks, gesturing toward Farmingham’s lifeless body.
The guy has the audacity to roll his eyes, even though he’s barely spared a glance away from Brawler since he’s recognized him. If Brawler knows who he is, he hasn’t confirmed as much, and with the bunching of his muscles, I’m not sure he has. It has to be someone from the past though. No one calls him Mack anymore.
