The Rules of Survival (Mercer #1)

RoS Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four

Sal noticed something was wrong before I did.

One second he was weeping into my shoulder, the next he was standing upright and dragging me with him. I hissed as pain seared my leg and my stomach simultaneously, and actually panted from the intensity of it. As soon as my feet made contact with the ground my legs threatened to buckle altogether. If not for Sal's biting grip on both of my upper arms, I would have ended up in a heap on the cold, hard ground.

I started to ask what the hell his problem was when it became blatantly obvious. We'd been intruded on. By seven guys, half of whom looked to be a couple of years older than Sal was. It was safe to say I'd never seen any one of them before in my life. I didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. The blessing would have been that none of them had been on a certain rooftop a little over a week ago trying to personally end my life. The curse was, I didn't know them, or even of them, so I had no idea what their intentions were.

When the guy slightly in front of everyone else moved his arm the barest of inches, Sal had me behind him, backing up until I was jammed between him and the trunk of the big oak we'd been sitting under.

"Don't move," Sal said, the tenseness of his body belying his calm tone. He had a decent sized knife in his right hand, and I blinked in wonderment of where he'd managed to hide it thus far on his body.

To my shock, they all obeyed. Well, they all stopped moving. Didn't mean they liked being told what to do, if their similar peeved expressions were anything to go by. After a long beat of silence, the presumed leader slowly raised his hands.
"Relax, Black. We're not here to cause your little friend any trouble."

His voice was husky, and to prove his words he visibly relaxed his body, folding his arms across his chest and rocking back on his heels.

"Good," Sal snarled. "Then leave."

The other guy arched one thick brow. "You might want to curb the attitude, youngblood." I frowned at the term. Gave the intruder a critical once over. Christ, he wasn't that much older than Sal was. I put him at twenty-five. Twenty-six at most. And he was calling Sal that?

"And you might want to listen to what he said and back the fuck off," came a voice full of gravel.

Alec had appeared and was circling around to where Sal and I stood. His walk was slow, almost languid, and he was twirling a knife in each hand. He'd lost his leather jacket, leaving him in nothing but his pants and a tight fitted muscle tank top. He had a couple more knives strapped to each forearm, and purposely came to a stop a mere three feet from the man who appeared to be in charge.

"Gabriel," Alec said flatly.

Gabriel nodded in return. "Ortiz. Hot-headed as usual, I see."

Alec ignored the comment. "I was surprised we didn't see you last week. Thought you'd leap at the chance to attack Montoya while the odds were in your favour."

A tic started in Gabriel's jaw, the only indicator that he might not have been as blasé about the whole situation as he seemed. "I was out of town. Didn't get back until last night. Didn't even know Montoya was dead until a few guys knocked on my doorstep to pick me up for his funeral."

"Uh-huh," Alec said. "Well, you came, you said good riddance, and now you can leave. I'm sure you have much bigger concerns than the Mercer girl given the big promotion. Maybe Lupe needs his ass kissed a little more than usual today. I overheard Loche telling Miguel he wasn't impressed with the turnout. Apparently using Montoya as a martyr backfired on Lupe when it resulted in the largest CBK gathering at a funeral in the last five years. Two hundred and fifteen in attendance."