Page 136 of Scarred Angel

The same scorpion tattoo inked on his forearm, identical to the one on the dead intruder in our garage this morning.

My pulse races, and I slide a glance at Remi.

She saw it too. Her face goes blank, not shocked or afraid. But cold, like a switch was flipped.

And before a single word can leave my mouth, she moves.

Remi slams the heel of her hand into Boaz’s nose with a brutal crack, cartilage snapping clean. His head whips back, and blood spurts instantly.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, then erupt into hollers, cheers, and phones in the air.

Remi already has her Glock out, the barrel pressed tight to Boaz’s skull as he drops to his knees, clutching his face and choking on blood.

In an instant, everything around us descends into madness.

Maksim steps in front of me, and Kuroda lunges to cover Remi’s flank. Renji curses under his breath, stepping up beside his brother.

“One of your guys broke into our place today,” Remi snarls as she grinds the muzzle into Boaz’s skull. “He tried to pull a knife on me, take my gun, and he busted my fucking lip.”

Boaz spits blood onto the pavement, more dripping down his chin as he lifts one hand in a lazy signal for his crew to stay put.

“Smiley just wanted to check out the competition. No harm, no foul.” He flashes a grin, row of red teeth on display. “I like you. Got a little fire in you, don’t you?”

Remi doesn’t blink, just digs the barrel in harder. “You wanna see how much?”

Boaz chuckles and turns his head away to spit again, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “No, I wanna know what you did with my brother.”

Brother.

This isn’t going to end well. I move in beside Remi, my gun steady, and Maksim steps forward without a word, blocking off the rest of Boaz’s crew with nothing more than his size and eyes that promise violence.

“Rem, let him up,” I say, aware of all the bystanders still with their phones out.

She doesn’t. “Something isn’t right here, Val.”

“I know.” My hand closes around her shoulder. “But not like this.”

Boaz’s smirk stretches, blood still slick on his teeth. “Listen to your friend, pretty girl. But don’t worry. We’ll dance another day.”

It’s my turn.

I raise my gun and put the barrel right between his eyes. “That sounds a lot like a threat.”

A wet laugh bubbles out of him. “I meant on the track. Fuck, you Philly chicks are hostile as?—”

He doesn’t finish.

In one blur of motion, Maksim’s hand snaps around Boaz’s throat, and he yanks him upright, feet leaving the ground. For half a second, Maksim looks over at me, a question in his eyes.

Do I crack his head open right here, or do you want him breathing?

The whole lot goes dead silent. I shake my head once, and Maksim releases instantly, dropping that asshole to the pavement with a hard thud.

Boaz coughs and stumbles, then scrambles to his feet. He backs away four steps, eyes locked on us, and blows a taunting kiss before turning back toward his crew.

“We’re forfeiting, Remi. Too much of a risk tonight,” I say, threading my fingers through Maksim’s, who’s still coiled like a loaded gun and ready to spill blood. “We have something more concrete now that we know?—”

Click.