If he catches this wave, he’s going to get his ass kicked.
The swell builds, barreling in, and I see the exact moment that he realizes where he’s at. He turns his board around, paddling in front of a group of black dots.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath.
“What?” She grabs my hand.
Isaac moves, completely unaware that he’s thrown down a challenge and is shit deep in a paddle battle. My jaw locks down and I grit my teeth. Lose, Isaac. Don’t out paddle these guys.
He hits the lip of the wave at full force. It catches, grabbing Isaac along with one other guy on his outside. Shit. I move, headed for the waterline, dread heavy in my gut.
The guy catches up to him. Fuck. He dives off his board and takes Isaac down.
Trix gasps. “That guy went after him!”
Motherfucker. “Yeah, your brother dropped in on his wave.”
Now let’s just hope the dude’s not a local.
“What does that mean?” I don’t look, but I know Trix is scanning the water just as I am, waiting for her brother to resurface.
“Isaac was in the wrong, but . . .” I squint as two black dots surface only to be surrounded by four more. “Fuck. Stay here.”
“Mason . . .” Fear and worry lace her voice.
I kiss the top of her head. “It’ll be okay; just stay with the kids.”
I run into the water, hopping small waves until it’s easier to swim. I break the surface with a dive, powering through waves with urgency. Surf conflicts escalate quickly and under no fucking circumstances will I allow Isaac to learn this lesson the hard way. I make it to the group of guys who are chest deep and bobbing in the current.
“Hey.” I barely get the word out when Isaac takes a fist to his jaw. “Fuck.”
Fights are bad enough, but fights in water while waves thrash all around are almost impossible to win. I make it to Isaac just as he’s about to swing on the guy, wrapping my arm around his chest.
“Let me go, man!” Isaac tries to kick from my hold, and I, again, give the kid credit for his strength. “That fucker hit me out of nowhere!”
“Yeah, I know.” I drag him toward shore. “Don’t worry.” I look back to see that, sure enough, they’re following us in. “It’s not over yet.”
As soon as our feet hit solid ground, the group of guys descends. Trix moves toward us, but I hold a hand up to keep her far enough back so that she can hear what’s going on, but she’s not close enough to get hit.
“Fucking, kook.” The guy shoves Isaac, who at sixteen stands eye to eye with the dude that could be twice his age. “Go back to your island, chink.”
Isaac rushes the guy. I hook him around the waist before he makes contact and toss him behind me. “Enough. He’s new to Cowell, doesn’t know the rules yet.”
“No shit, asshole. That’s what I’m here to teach him.” The guy puffs out his chest, and his crew backs him up. They’re all tense, flexed, and I know from experience they won’t walk away until Isaac bleeds.
“Listen. Give him a pass just this—”
They all burst into laughter, but quickly sober and step into my space. “Maybe you’d like to take the beating for him. Break our rules; pay our fines.”
I hate to play this card, but I grew up in this area and know for a fact that it’s my only chance to save Isaac from an ass-kicking. “This ain’t your break,” I say low enough to avoid drawing attention.
A short bulky dude with a shaved head and wild eyes shoves my shoulder. “What the fuck you know about it, kook?”
A growl bubbles up from my throat, and I swear if there weren’t the eyes of little kids on me, I’d destroy this cocky fuck.
“B3 protects this break.” I know it, they know it, and even though I’m no longer an active participant in the local surf gang, these guys understand me.
They each blink, pass a guarded look to each other, and glare at me. “Whatchu know ’bout B3?”
“Emery, dude . . .” Dickhead number two whispers something that sends Emery’s eyes to my hip. He tilts his head, and his eyes widen. “No shit?”
My tattoo isn’t obvious, but anyone familiar with B3 and everyone local is more than familiar with, if not terrified of, The Brotherhood. They see the waves of the