Caught in the act

**Dayle**

“Fuck, we are busted,” I said under my breath, my gaze splitting between the strange men and Steve’s car, where Chrissy was staying. 

I hope she stays put. I don't want her hurt. 

“What are we gonna do? We’re fucked. Told ya this wasn't gonna work,” Steve complained.

“Your hands behind your head, SLOWLY!” One of the men ordered firmly.

Something about them felt off the bar. 

They were all in black attire and masks complementing their grit. 

“Whatever you have, lay it down—”

“You ain't no fucking cop—”

One of them cracked his silencer gun and shot slightly beside Steve, scaring the shit out of us. 

Steve remained silent they matched forward, cuffed and blindfolded us. It was odd; fear gripped us like a second skin, and our hearts were racing and pounding nonstop. 

We were kicked off to sit on the ground. Our asses landed on the hard floor, my bones as if they would crack and bust open. 

“Fuck! That hurt,” Steve whined.

I wondered what sort of cop they were, yet we had no right to talk or ask questions. 

No matter what Steve and I tried to do, it was already too late to defeat the men.

“Just as predicated, we caught them…” I heard one of the men say to someone or probably through a phone call. 

Their steps hurried away, and I am guessing that it was into the house to tamper with the cameras. 
Nothing far from it. 

“Bro, they are gone! We have to do something…” Steve pressed while thinking carefully. 

Thankfully, we managed to access the footage. It wasn't tampered with. When I copied the files, I instantly sent them to my Dom and deleted them. I know that he would take a remarkable step. 
It was only a matter of time, I will relieve myself of all the future charges and fake accusations surrounding Garry’s death. 

“Chill, bro! We can't make it through. Either way, they'll shoot at us and that’s a fucking waste of time,” I said. 

“Without trying? We can't just be here…” Steve argued, struggling to free himself while I remained calm all the way through. 

“Stop trying! We can't die like a bunch of dicks out of fats,” I snapped and he scoffed, giving up. His frustration and desperation were all palpable. “Look, man, I’m sorry about everything. You said it, we are gonna get caught and we were,” I calmly said, reflecting on his earlier warning. And on the other hand, I was worried for Chrissy. I wasn't sure if she had left or was still stuck in the car. 

“It wasn't your fault,” he said, snagging me out of my thoughts. “At least, we got there first,” he reminded and that was the best part of it. 

There was a bit of silence between us and though we were self-reflecting. 
“How’s Maggie? I haven't asked in a long time,” I began. He hissed, I know that I had hit a part of him that he didn't want to casually talk about but as friends, I needed you to know what's up with my best friend. 

“She has been… I don't know!” he sighed. “She doesn't want me back, and I wasn't ready at that time!” he admitted, his tone was edgy and remorseful. 

Steve was a carefree guy, but never an excuse to lose a Godsent like Maggie. Sweet and gentle.

“You can always go to apologize, you know that right?” I said, trying to be in his shoes. “Maggie is a sweetheart and I totally believe that she would make a good partner for life. I mean, what are you holding onto by the way? We see everything and yet… love and happiness run faster than we can reach. Don't let her go, buddy!” I said and swallowed up.

Was I indirectly speaking to myself? I love Chrissy so much. Letting her go would be the end of me. 

“Thanks man, I always knew you'd turn out to be the most sensible one between us three. I'll find Maggie if we don't burn in hell,” he said. I laughed, a sort of relief asking over me at once. 

“About Egan, let it go, Dayle!” Steve said. The sound of it riled me up, my emotions battling to calm down, my mind rattling non-stop. 

“It is just hard to forget how he ruined everything for Chrissy and me the moment he showed. We used to be happy. We had everything going according to plan. I wanted to propose, man!”

Thinking about everything made my heart sting. The pang was like an irreversible scar on my chest. 

“I can imagine how terrible it but… Egan is still our brother. All of this can be sorted—”

“Yet all he wants to do is fuck my girl? I'll pass,” I snapped, barely attempting to listen to him. 

“Egan spoke to me sometime before you were arrested,” Steve said. “He’s very sorry and only wants to make things right—”

“Well, fuck that, I’m fucking mad and that won't change anytime soon,” I flared up, trying to break angrily.
Well, I was still stuck. 

“Calm the fuck down, okay? He's remorseful and wants to apologize for ruining your good stuff. Fuck, you stole Chrissy from Egan right from the time, man! Let's call a spade a spade!” he barked at me as I scoffed, swamped in slight guilt. 

“Oh wow, you never cease to amaze me with your wits,” I snapped sarcastically as I looked away despite being blindfolded. 

“Screw you! Egan is sorry, I thought that you should know!” he snapped and before I could say a word, quick footsteps approached. 

“Bloody Motherfuckers, where’s the footage?” one asked us.

“Ain’t you cops? Why do y'all need it—”

I was hit on the face with the black of the gun, the shrill sound in my ears engulfed, the taste of metal in my mouth and my vision blurred. 

“One last time, where is the footage?” another asked firmly.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I snapped and the familiar, painful hit landed on the other side of my face again, causing my teeth to bite a small chunk of the flesh from the walls in my mouth. 

I groaned painfully, breathing unevenly. 

“We are not here to play, boy!” he said as the other patted him which was loud enough for us to hear.

“We have to leave, we have company…” he said as the other cussed under his breath.

They attempted to run off as sirens roared in the air, cars approaching our direction. I was relieved, literally sniffing the air and exhaling. 

“Pray I don't see your shitty face!” I snapped and spat one the nearest person. A sudden flash engulfed our faces. Somehow, the blindfold countered the direct blinding light in our faces. 

I could imagine this look the men’s faces when the police caught them red-handed. Who must have called the cops, was it Chrissy or Dom? 

“Slowly put down your weapons, and your hands behind your heads!” one police officer announced through a speaker, his voice echoing in our heads like a daily reminder of karma in the NYPD.