“No worries. I’m good. I think the slam to the ground hurt worse.”
“Lily, you okay?” Rhett’s voice is panicked as he jogs over, stopping in front of me.
“I’m good. Just winded.”
“Here,” Samuel says, holding out a bottle of water.
I straighten up and chug half the bottle. Together, we join the others to a round of applause.
“We’ll be here all week,” Samuel says laughing.
Blake looks pissed. Handing Samuel the water back, I plop down in Blake’s lap, kissing his forehead. “Hey, baby.”
“I think I need to not watch the sparing anymore,” he says, snaking his arms around my waist.
“You okay?”
He shakes his head, nuzzling my
side. Pushing the issue won’t help, so I lean against him and kiss his head again. Samuel sits next to Sorina, who twists his head back and forth, checking his face for marks. She’s just like her father, that’s for damn sure.
For the next two hours, we take turns sparing. The best show is Sammi and Vlad. I’ve never seen her spar, but she’s good and gives Vlad a run for his money. She can take a punch too. Vlad hits like a train and she hardly winces when he lands two jabs to her ribs. She returns with a closed backhand, busting his lips open.
His eyes widen like saucers as he wipes the blood from his face, and all Sammi does is grin. By the time they finish, she has a bruised cheek and he’s got a bloody nose to match his lip. All I can do is laugh as they rejoin us.
“Who knew Boa could kick ass. Vlad’s of all people.”
Vlad growls at the same time she laughs.
“Oh, you ain’t going to be a cunt about it are ya, mate? The women on this team are constantly underestimated,” Sammi says, her accent showing.
I cringe at the casual use of the word cunt, but it’s an Australian thing.
We make our way inside as the sun dips below the horizon. Jameson’s on duty tonight, but he needs to eat first and so do the rest of us. Spending the day getting an ass whooping tends to make us all hungry.
†††
Teresa cooks steak like a pro. The woman is worth her weight in gold, I swear.
“Lily, you ready for bed, babe? I’m beat,” Blake says setting our plates in the sink.
“Nice choice of words,” I quip, giving him a sly grin.
“Very funny.”
“You said it.”
A burst of pops resounds from outside, silencing the house. Without hesitation, Vlad ushers everyone into the living room. I snatch my shotgun from under the sofa and bolt out the door, Dresden and Samuel on my heels.
Rounding the house, two shadows bolt for the tree line. Dresden raises his rifle, firing several shots. One of the shadows falls to the ground as the other disappears into the trees. A low gurgling pulls my attention to the convulsing form about ten feet from us.
I take off, my bare feet digging into the dirt.
Blood oozes from the corners of Jameson’s mouth, running in thick lines down his face, dripping from behind his ears. His chest is covered in sticky redness as he fights to breathe through shutters and heaves.
“No, no, no. Stay with me, Jameson. Stay with me,” I say frantically.
My heart pounds in my ears as Dresden and Samuel rip off their shirts and press them against Jameson’s chest.