A simple text message from the head of the organization.
A warning that if the job isn’t done when he needs it to be, then my blood will spill in place of the condemned.
Chapter 7
I’ve been laying on my couch for about three hours, legs crossed at the ankles, and hands folded behind my neck. I spent all fucking day roaming around any street I could think of that might yield a clue, to no avail.
I won’t call Arthur and I still haven’t responded to his text. I know I’m being watched, and honestly, I don’t care. He won’t send anyone after me, and the one person that he might consider, won’t do me any harm.
It’s how brotherhoods work.
We watch each other’s backs and take care of each other in our own ways.
I just wish Bent would fucking call me back.
The sun has long since gone down and I’m pretty sure it’s almost midnight which means that soon, I’ll have less than twenty-four hours to figure out whatever the hell it is I’m supposed to do.
I close my eyes.
I won’t go to sleep because that’s something that I’ve never been any good at, but I will take this quiet time to think. Not that being alone with my own thoughts is usually a good thing, but since I’m alone, there’s no danger of losing my shit and hurting anyone unintentionally.
Bent’s face appears in the darkness I’ve engulfed myself in, pushing away any negative feeling that’s befallen me.
Those beautiful amber eyes that I love so much, the way her hair falls around her face in cherry waves, the rosy pink color that fills her cheeks each time she sees me watching her.
God, I can almost remember the first time I saw that beautiful face.
It was ten years ago, she was five years old and followed me around like I was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought she was a fun kid, and no one else seemed to mind her being around either.
Of course, things changed about a year ago right on this very couch. I was sound asleep while she slept in my bed. Her father was a motherfucker to her, so I would let her crash with me whenever she wanted, and for some reason, she always felt safest with me.
It was when I woke up to her sucking my dick like a goddamn two-dollar whore that everything changed.
I should have pushed her off, I know this. I should have shouted at her and told her that I was too old for her—I know that, too, but n
o one in my entire life has ever made me feel the way she does.
I’ve got twelve years on the girl and no one seems to give a shit. We don’t, either, I just know that once she’s a proper woman, she’ll probably find a new bed to crawl into and that I’ll be a distant memory, and that’s okay.
Kids grow up; that’s what they do.
Not that she’ll ever really leave me. Her father is my cousin on my mother’s side, and those psychopaths always find a way to stick around.
None of them know the extent of our relationship, and it’s really not their business, since there isn’t much of a relationship to talk about.
We fuck each other and then she disappears for days at a time, while I work.
Balance.
Pursing my lips, I open my eyes again and glance at the time on the clock behind the entertainment center.
That entire memory took all of three minutes and I’m still no closer to finding out what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing.
Suddenly I sit up, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I’ve seen three people in the last day or so.
Tristan, Lance …