The three men who had been with Moe at the bar. They swaggered in, grinning menacingly, and cut off his escape routes.
Cutter to the right in the living room, the new arrivals to his four-o’clock. Moe and his girlfriend in front of him, just over ten feet away.
The front door slammed as one of the hoods kicked it shut.
‘Wassup, Moe?’ he grinned wickedly, his thumbs tucked in his waist. ‘You ‘splainin’ the rules to your woman?’
‘Dime,’ said a second hood, whose lips curled as he bobbed his head at the first speaker, ‘suspected we were being followed. We tracked back and sure enough, this dawg’s here. Who’s he?’
‘Brae’s banging him,’ Moe said bitterly. He jerked her hair hard. Made her whimper and stumble. Straightened her with another savage pull.
‘Who’s the homie? Looks familiar.’
‘He was at the Blue Goose,’ the banger raged. ‘He mad-dogged me in the bathroom. I could feel his eyes even when I left.’
‘Who are you, dawg? You with the 13? Crips? Kings?’
Cutter didn’t reply. He had assessed attack vectors instantly. Flight wasn’t an option anymore. He was outnumbered four to one. Moe wasn’t a threat—for now, he was occupied with his girlfriend. But the three hoods were.
He was at a disadvantage, since they were behind him and he would have to turn to take them on. They were bunched too close, though, and they believed they had him trapped. None of them had drawn weapons, either.
I can come out of this.
‘Dawg? Homie? Dude?’ Dime snapped his fingers to get Cutter’s attention.
He still didn’t reply. He watched Brae, who was staring back at him, her head twisted at a painful angle from the grip Moe had on her.
She’s saying something.
Her lips moved.
She’s praying.
No. That wasn’t it. Her eyes were desperate.
He ignored the bangers for a moment and let himself feel her fear and desperation, and that, along with the movement of her mouth, did it for him.
Save me. Please.
He read her lips again to be sure.
No doubt about it. She was pleading for his help.
‘HEY!’ Dime yelled. ‘YOU DEAF? WHO’RE YOU WITH?’
‘I’m my own gang,’ Cutter said, smiling. Nope, that didn’t strike fear in the hoods. He had to come up with better lines. He turned to face them, keeping Moe at nine o’clock. ‘She’s telling the truth. I don’t know her, either. It’s the first time I’ve seen her.’
‘His own gang! You hear that, Dime? We’ve got a smartass here. Drop him!’ the third hood hissed. ‘Moe, you seen him before?’
‘Nah. Homie’s a stranger. Don’t believe him. Brae’s got something going with him. Doncha, babe—’
‘Last chance.’ He had to give them that opportunity. ‘Let her go.’