I could tell.
The barrel of the gun was cold against my forehead.
So this was it.
At least Crave would finally be caught. At least I wouldn’t die with any what-ifs.
I wished I didn’t have to stare up at Crave’s ugly face while it happened, though.
Then, suddenly, his bulldog face disappeared from view, along with the cold press of the gun. Heath had tackled him off me with a shout that was half anger and half terror. Crave’s gun skidded across the asphalt and his skull hit the pavement with a thunk. He groaned.
We had an audience of horrified students now. Sirens wailed in the distance, rapidly getting closer. Crave shoved Heath off him and staggered to his feet, dizzy from the hit to his head. “Get up!” he howled at his scrawny companion. The guy got up like an obedient dog.
Crave climbed into the truck as his lackey hurled himself into the bed of it.
Oh, fuck.
The truck turned on.
Yep. I’d left the keys in the ignition. Well, they could fucking take it if it meant they’d stay away from Heath and we’d both get out alive.
Heath and I sprawled back on the sidewalk as the truck peeled away. The sirens were still approaching, but louder than the sirens—closer—was a familiar, roaring engine.
“You all right, kid?” I turned my head on the asphalt toward Heath.
He was lying on his back as well, breathing heavily. The gash on his hand was still bleeding sluggishly as he pressed the fabric of his t-shirt hard into it. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You did good,” I said. “Took that guy out like it was nothing.”
“Didn’t feel like nothing,” Heath grumbled.
I started laughing a little breathlessly from the shock of it all. And the fucking truck was gone. I’d taken it to annoy Tex, but I hadn’t intended to do this much damage.
“What’s so funny?” Heath asked.
“The truck.” I shook my head to myself, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. “It’s Tex’s. It’s his baby. Second only to his bike.”
“Is he gonna be mad?”
“So mad.” I started laughing again. “He’s gonna blow his top.”
The motorcycles arrived first, with cops and the ambulances close behind them. I raised myself onto my elbows, heart suddenly racing.
Tex leaped off his motorcycle, shoving past the students and the cops, Blade and Gunnar close behind him. He crashed to his knees on the pavement at my side. His face was flushed from exertion, eyes wide and scared like I’d never seen before, searching mine like he wasn’t sure if I was real.
“Hey,” I said.
“Fucking hell,” Tex said. He reached for me and snarled his fingers in the front of my shirt, like he did when he was angry at me, but it wasn’t anger in his face now. “I thought—I thought—”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I tried to joke, but it came out a little desperate.
The rest of the world faded to static. The cops, the EMTs, the students, even Heath just a few feet away. There was only this: Tex’s sharp green eyes red-rimmed, a little bloodshot, the furrow in his brow, his fingers tangled in my shirt.
And then he tugged me forward and kissed me.
I was stunned. Frozen. From a gun to my head to Tex’s lips on mine. Hell of a day.
It felt—
He felt—
Like the sunshine on my face outside the gates of San Quentin. Like the waves on my ankles in Monterey. Like the leather of my bike saddle cooled from the Ankhor Works garage.
Like coming home.
I reached for him instinctively, sliding my hands gingerly around his waist to his back, part of me still sure he’d pull away—sure this couldn’t be real. But instead Tex just opened his mouth against mine, a sharp inhale that sounded almost like a sob. My heart stuttered in my chest like a car engine starting. It felt so right, firm and careful, like a promise.
Tex pulled away and tipped his forehead against mine. His grip on my shirt kept me upright.
“I must be concussed,” I muttered.
That surprised a laugh out of Tex, some of the fear melting from his face.
I was safe.
The knowledge swept over me like a wave, and my adrenaline crash immediately followed. The fear, the fighting, the brush with death had set my nervous system on fire. Now that it was all over, I couldn’t fight off the exhaustion, and the last thing I saw before I succumbed to the crash was Tex’s terrified face.
18
Tex/Jazz
Tex
I paced the hallway for what felt like the hundredth time. Jazz had been