Page 53 of Claim

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I can see that.” Then I glanced at him. “But the moment you touched my sister, you became my problem.”

He opened his mouth, then closed again. Then eventually said, “How is she?”

“Ain’t seen her.” I finished my toast, eyes returning to the men drifting our way. “Told her to stay away from me. Same way I told her to stay away from you. That kid might have a chance then.”

Someone called out, “Shouldn’t you be done by now, Darren-boy?”

Darren flinched. Started to stand.

I caught his wrist. “Sit. Eat.”

He looked at me as if I were asking him to step in front of traffic. Then he sat. And I kept my gaze on the one coming closer. Watched the way he moved. Loose, confident, enjoying it.

“Dunno who the fuck you are.” Bloke stopped behind Darren. “But you don’t give orders in here.”

“Nor do you.” I lifted my cup, drained the cold tea. It tasted like rust and dishwater. I swallowed it anyway.

Big guy dropped both hands on Darren’s shoulders, making him shrink. Shut down.

So I pointed at them. “Hands. To. Yourself.”

“Why? You got some claim on this one?” Man dug his thumbs into Darren’s shoulders hard enough to make him wince. “Heard you like your boys sweet.” He chuckled, sucking in air through his teeth.

Always hated that.

Darren lifted his gaze to me across the table. And that look, that was the first hint that the rumour wasn’t a surprise to him. In here. Out there. Who knew where he’d heard it first. But he checked my face to see my reaction to it.

So I laughed.

Then stood.

“You got the rumour wrong, mate.” I leant in for him to feel me there, my space pressing into his. “I like ’em big. Solid.” I leered over him, swiping my tongue along my teeth. “Don’t pretend that ain’t why you wandered over. Thought you’d strut a bit, see if I’d bite.” I blew him a kiss. “You’re bought, mate. All that bulk just shouting overcompensation. I’d wager you won’t even fill my mouth.” I glanced around. “Which one here’s gonna validate that?”

The punch came fast and ugly, all weight and no warning. It caught me high on the cheek, snapped my head sideways and clacking my teeth together hard enough to spark light. I staggered. But I didn’t go down.

Refused to.

Might’ve been a different wing. But men wanted to fuck me over everywhere. Not in the good way either. And the second hit struck before I’d finished turning back, landing straight into my already fucked-up ribs. Something cracked. Or tore. Again. Pain flared white and hot, and I tasted blood. Old wounds resurfacing. As if this lot already knew I was half down.

The wing exploded then.

Chairs scraped. Someone shouted. Someone laughed. Bodies surged in as if they’d been waiting for permission. And I’d say I had about three to five on me. Fists, feet, a mouth and teeth somewhere, too. So I swung blind, my knuckles connecting with whatever flesh I could find. Felt a few give. Someone grunt as I grabbed his nuts. Then a hand got into the back of my T-shirt, yanking me off balance, my top tearing and bad shoulder screaming.

I went into the table hard, the breath punched clean out of me. Then I heard Darren shout my name before someone shoved him back, hands on his chest, forcing him down. I twisted, elbowed back into someone’s gut. Felt air leave them in a wet rush. But a fist slammed into my lower back, and my knees buckled. I caught myself on the edge of the table, vision narrowing, sounds flattening into a dull roar.

This wasn’t a fight.

It was fucking pile on and I either survived it…

Or I didn’t.

Someone got an arm around my throat from behind, crushing my windpipe, and I clawed at it, driving my heel back, feeling it hit bone. His grip loosened long enough for me to wrench free and turn and take the fucker right out, when a baton came down on me.

Once. Across my shoulder. Fire ripped through muscle.

Twice. Into my side. The pain un-fucking-bearable.

Whistles shrieked then. Screws pouring in, shouting, grabbing, dragging bodies apart as if they hadn’t known exactly how this would go. As if they hadn’t planted me here cause someone wanted this operational reshuffle. Screws slammed me face-first into the floor and my cheek smacked concrete as someone pinned my arm up behind my back. Pain screamed through my shoulder until I bit down hard enough to draw blood.