Heat 7 (Prohibited ch. 8)
A/N: Alright, since I’m graduating in 1 month, my updates might be sporadic at best. Special thanks to @jediannsolo , @androgynouskittensandwich , @gummibear999 , and @killmongershusband for their continued support and anyone who’s ever looked at this.
FF.NET
“You haven’t—” his head snapped to the side, ear ringing as she pulled her fist back.
“Do you have any idea what you just cost me last night?” Sandy asked, her voice icy and sharp.
“Anyone ever tell you, you hit like a boxer?” Shadow said, stepping back as she glared at him. “Not that it’s a bad thing.” He paused, briefly biting his lower lip and tasting blood. Was it swelling? “And I know our match this week wasn’t—”
Sandy frowned, replying, “It ain’t about the competition, one of my boys is dead cause ‘a you.”
“Oh,” Shadow looked at her, noting how tense she was, hands in a closed fist. “Shit, I,” he paused for a moment, licking his lips and no longer tasting the metallic tang of blood. “I had no idea he would, you should head back home, check on your brother.”
Her shoulders sagged as a sigh left her. “Guess ya can finally call me that cab. Call it a favor and we might be even. We go to Nationals and we are.” She said, rolling her suit sleeve up as she stuck her hand out.
He nodded, shaking her hand and watching her walk towards the entrance. The bell tinkled and suddenly everything felt still. Everything felt slow as the familiar staccato of gunfire echoed in the small studio.
The squeal of tires were too loud as they laid there with the familiar scent of blood in Shadow’s nose.
“Get off,” Sandy growled, shoving him away and reaching for her shoulder. Her hand came away red, white shirt beginning to stick to her. She stood, wiping her hand on her pants leg, mumbling, “How long will it take fer me to get this fixed?”
“Keep her close, I don’t want you sitting next to me in a jail cell.”
“I can fix that,” he said, swallowing as she glared at him. “It won’t take long, my car is out—”
“If I go, will you stop talkin’? Ya don’t seem like the talkative type. ‘Sides, they didn’t look like your men.” Sandy said, jerking her chin towards the door where a crack split it.
Shadow nodded, leading her outside and opening the car door for her. He felt like he was crossing a line. That there was no good in letting her in his home, hurt or not. That letting her be his dance partner in the first place was the dumbest thing he’d ever done. It was too late to turn back now anyway.
