The guy catches up to him. Fuck. He dives off his board and takes Isaac down.
Trix gasps. “That guy went after him!”
Motherfucker. “Yeah, your brother dropped in on his wave.”
Now let’s just hope the dude’s not a local.
“What does that mean?” I don’t look, but I know Trix is scanning the water just as I am, waiting for her brother to resurface.
“Isaac was in the wrong, but . . .” I squint as two black dots surface only to be surrounded by four more. “Fuck. Stay here.”
“Mason . . .” Fear and worry lace her voice.
I kiss the top of her head. “It’ll be okay; just stay with the kids.”
I run into the water, hopping small waves until it’s easier to swim. I break the surface with a dive, powering through waves with urgency. Surf conflicts escalate quickly and under no fucking circumstances will I allow Isaac to learn this lesson the hard way. I make it to the group of guys who are chest deep and bobbing in the current.
“Hey.” I barely get the word out when Isaac takes a fist to his jaw. “Fuck.”
Fights are bad enough, but fights in water while waves thrash all around are almost impossible to win. I make it to Isaac just as he’s about to swing on the guy, wrapping my arm around his chest.
“Let me go, man!” Isaac tries to kick from my hold, and I, again, give the kid credit for his strength. “That fucker hit me out of nowhere!”
“Yeah, I know.” I drag him toward shore. “Don’t worry.” I look back to see that, sure enough, they’re following us in. “It’s not over yet.”
As soon as our feet hit solid ground, the group of guys descends. Trix moves toward us, but I hold a hand up to keep her far enough back so that she can hear what’s going on, but she’s not close enough to get hit.
“Fucking, kook.” The guy shoves Isaac, who at sixteen stands eye to eye with the dude that could be twice his age. “Go back to your island, chink.”
Isaac rushes the guy. I hook him around the waist before he makes contact and toss him behind me. “Enough. He’s new to Cowell, doesn’t know the rules yet.”
“No shit, asshole. That’s what I’m here to teach him.” The guy puffs out his chest, and his crew backs him up. They’re all tense, flexed, and I know from experience they won’t walk away until Isaac bleeds.
“Listen. Give him a pass just this—”
They all burst into laughter, but quickly sober and step into my space. “Maybe you’d like to take the beating for him. Break our rules; pay our fines.”
I hate to play this card, but I grew up in this area and know for a fact that it’s my only chance to save Isaac from an ass-kicking. “This ain’t your break,” I say low enough to avoid drawing attention.
A short bulky dude with a shaved head and wild eyes shoves my shoulder. “What the fuck you know about it, kook?”
A growl bubbles up from my throat, and I swear if there weren’t the eyes of little kids on me, I’d destroy this cocky fuck.
“B3 protects this break.” I know it, they know it, and even though I’m no longer an active participant in the local surf gang, these guys understand me.
They each blink, pass a guarded look to each other, and glare at me. “Whatchu know ’bout B3?”
“Emery, dude . . .” Dickhead number two whispers something that sends Emery’s eyes to my hip. He tilts his head, and his eyes widen. “No shit?”
My tattoo isn’t obvious, but anyone familiar with B3 and everyone local is more than familiar with, if not terrified of, The Brotherhood. They see the waves of the B3 emblem curling up from my hip.
They visibly tense.
“I think it’s time you guys move on, yeah?”
They flash looks to each other, trying to hide their concern or fear with the nonchalance of gangster badasses and failing. “Keep your friend safe. Guarantee if he dropped in on one of your brothers he’d never live to talk about it.”
That’s probably true.
They strut to their boards and head back into the water. With my hands propped on my hips, I feel the unexpected release of tension in my muscles. That could’ve been so much worse.
“Mason?” I turn to see Trix holding the little kids to her body while the bigger ones crowd around her.
I turn to Isaac, who looks like a ticking time bomb. His fists are clenched, jaw hard, and back rigid. “Go for a run, man. Blow it off. Letting that shit fester will do you no good, understand?”
He’s scowling at the guys who are back to being black dots on the horizon. “I could’ve taken him.”
“I don’t doubt that. But those guys don’t fight fair. It would’ve been six of them against two of us, and your brothers and sisters would’ve witnessed it.” I slap him on the back. “Now go. Run the beach and blow it off. Trust me.”
He drops his eyes to the sand and nods, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah.” He blows out a long breath. “Okay.”
“Alright.”
He takes off running down the beach, and I turn to Trix, who’s chewing her bottom lip and pulling at the skin on her throat.