Rumble Fish Rusty James Novels & Stories

Niko said, his jaw locked. "And?" I asked, trying to gauge how much he knew. I swallowed hard just as Russo walked in. The wind howled outside, matching my drumming heart in my chest. Snow dusted on his clothes. He tugged his hoodie off his head and ran his hand through his hair multiple times. I was so engrossed in watching him that I shivered in fear hearing a gun shot. Russo's jaw set tight as his menacing gaze trained on Alessio. He stood immovable, giving him a murderous look.

I recognize a few of the faces rushing around me, but a relieved sigh falls from my lips as I finally focus on James. “What’s going on?” My voice sounds foreign and gravelly. “Are you injured?” James rushes out, coming back to my side and ignoring the emergency personnel shouting at him to back up. “My…” I start, trying to move the leg that had gotten bit, but it felt numb and stiff, “My leg and my ribs.” “What happened here?” The gold flecks in James’ eyes glitter beneath the harsh lights of the elevator, and his eyes soften as he stares at me. “Fuck, there was so much blood, Rosa.” His voice held a new edge, “I was about to lose my mind.”

Dave taunted while looking at James's lame leg, the prosthetic leg that supported his body since Dave had crushed his left leg. "You little bastard," James cursed, then fired a shot at Dave. Dave managed to dodge it, but the bullet grazed his right shoulder. Not one to be outdone, Dave fired back, hitting James in the stomach. Fresh blood instantly flowed from James's wound. Instead of crying out in pain, James laughed maniacally. He clutched his bleeding stomach and then licked the blood on his fingers, grinning. Delon, who was watching this, shuddered with disgust.

She spoke tauntingly making my mouth left ajar in shock and embarrassment…. James Russo! You are going to be fucking death of me!!

I left bite marks on his shoulder he had to cover with a fresh bandage before the next charter. I said yes because I’m an idiot. And because the thought of it.. trapped in that dark, sloshing hellhole while the boat rolled and the world kept fishing above made my stomach flip in the worst/best way. Noon came, James stepped out from wherever he was until now. The boat was drifting over a wreck, lines in the water, everyone focused on their rods. Rusty yelled “Fish on!” every few minutes.

The water floods my lungs, and I start thrashing all the harder, then sinking, going numb… A pair of much stronger arms slip around my chest in an instant, powerful kicks propelling us back to the surface. I don’t register anything else, until I’m lying in the silt of the rocky bank, spewing water while James is bent there over me, pounding on my back. He tilts up my face. “You’re not supposed to gulp it down, dumbass. You good?” I give a shaky nod. He looks down between my legs, smiling all the broader. “Because your balls have shriveled up to nothing.” He puts his hand to the area. I stiffen, licking my lips. This feels… I look to his own equipment. It’s not shriveled at all. It’s…

I groaned in surprise and fell face"first into the creek. It wasn't very deep, but the water was crackling. When I surfaced and looked at the damn thing, I saw the brown wolf on the creek bank looking at me with a satisfied face. I felt an absurd urge to lunge at him again. I swam back to shore and pushed myself up. James came over to help me, but I soon let out a growl and tried to grab her neck. He pulled away quickly and watched me go upstairs alone. When I finished, I faced James after shaking my soaked body. I had lost again.

All I could do was squeeze his hand tight and sit with him while he processed everything in silence. I'd thought that once we kicked them out, things would settle down for a while. But I never expected Seth's shamelessness could stretch so far. While I was feeding Dad sips of warm water, my phone started buzzing nonstop. I checked and saw dozens of texts from my assistant, Chris Hall. "Mr. James, we've got a problem. Seth's trashing you and Mr. Miller online. The Internet's going crazy." My heart pounded in my chest as I clicked the attached link with trembling fingers. The moment it loaded, a bold, black headline screamed at me.

Like a fish gasping for air while out of water, he sucked in what little oxygen he could, the broken ribs sending white hot jolts of pain up and down his body. Oliver was the first to his side. “James, what’s wrong?” he asked, anxiety in his voice. “Ribs,” he managed to gasp in between ragged, barely sufficient breaths. Oliver signaled Coach Collins—as Mike and Carlos came jogging over—and he and the trainer came running. Coach fell to his knees besides James. “What is it?” “He said his ribs. And it seems like he can barely breathe,” Oliver answered for him. Coach nodded with concern. Studying James’s screwed up facial expression, their trainer probed James’s right side tenderly.