by H Q Kingsley
Lucky nodded, reaching over to tug at Dime’s sleeve. “Fine,” Lucky said. “It’s on you now,” he finished as they turned to leave.
I watched after them for a minute before turning my attention to Skylar.
“So...” I awkwardly shoved my hands into my pockets. “Would you like to join me in my office?” I asked.
Skylar gave me a little smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes in the most striking kind of way.
“Sure,” he said, climbing to his feet. “Lead the way.”
I nodded, moving too stiffly as I walked forward. My legs suddenly felt like weighted boards and my chest was tight and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Christ, what the hell was wrong with me?
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been around attractive men before. I’d been with models. Literal, on-magazine-cover models, but something about Skylar, it set my nerves on edge. It made me feel like an awkward teenage virgin who could trip over his own feet at any moment.
“Here we are,” I said tightly as we stepped into my office. ‘Office’ was a bit of a stretch. It was more like a half-divider, sectioning off an area where I’d set up a desk, two bean bag chairs, and a small table.
I liked to sit there and think and read while Patrick terrorized our workers and plotted to take over the world. It was my little safe haven. A little quiet spot outside of the chaos.
I gestured around the area. “Feel free to sit where you like.”
"Oh," Skylar said, flashing a smile that lit his whole face up. "Thanks."
Fuck, it wasn't fair for him to look so good just standing there in a hoodie and some jeans. He sat down in one of the chairs, making himself comfortable, and I forced myself not to watch him too closely like some side-show creeper.
"So, what did my brother call you in for?" I asked, taking the opportunity to look at him without it being weird.
I took the seat across from him and studied him as much as I could.
He shrugged. "Fuck if I know. Baldy and Buzz Cut just hauled me out of my apartment this morning and said he wanted to talk to me."
I couldn't help but laugh at his descriptions of Dime and Lucky. It was pretty spot-on, and it’s not like their actual nicknames were any better.
“So, you have no idea why you’re here?” I pressed.
Skylar shook his head and gave me another shrug.
That was so fucking Patrick-typical.
"That's so fucking typical of Patrick," I muttered, echoing the thoughts in my head. "He doesn't give a shit about anyone else's time.” I rolled my eyes. “He's not even here, and he's got people hassling you."
"I don't mind waiting, I guess," Skylar replied. "I didn't have anything better to do today."
"Well, I hope it's worth it," I said, sitting back and folding my arms. He deserved some good news at least.
"Why's that?" he asked, his brows pulling together and a half-smile on his lips as he looked at me. Goddamn, he was pretty.
I bit my tongue, realizing how much of my thoughts I’d said out loud.
Fuck, what was happening to me? I was usually way better at handling myself. Usually, I could silently fume about what a jackass my brother was, but now, here I was, spilling my distaste to a man I didn’t know a damn thing about. And for why? Because he was attractive?
Christ, I need to get laid, I thought. Maybe then I wouldn't make a fucking idiot of myself in front of cute guys just because I was hard up for it.
I glanced around, searching for an answer that wouldn't make me sound like a moron, and my eyes landed on his shoes.
They were actually pretty badass. Custom-made, from what I could tell, and they looked hand-painted.
"Because anyone with style that good deserves some good news," I managed, hoping I sounded smooth and not like a cheesy teenager. I rubbed a hand through my hair. "Where'd you get your shoes?"
"Oh," he said, smiling and glancing down. "A friend of mine did them for me a couple years ago."
"Yeah? Hand-painted, right? That's some damned good artwork." I leaned down to get a better look at them. They'd probably started out white, but other than the logo, they were filled with color. It was almost like graffiti or street art done in a night sky scene with the moon and shooting stars. Stuff like that could easily look amateurish, but it was clear that whoever had done the art was damned good at it.
Skylar nodded and smiled a little shyly. "Yeah, hand-painted. My friend's a great artist. Really big into the art scene. He started out painting murals and stuff downtown before he got chased out when they started building the new restaurants and all. Now he does custom shoes and shirts and stuff. Sometimes prints."
"Fucking gentrification, am I right?” I chuckled.
“Exactly,” Skylar agreed with a laugh.
That's badass though," I said. "Are you into art?"
"I think it's really interesting, and I'm in awe of people who can do it well.” Skylar shrugged. “But I can't draw to save my life. I was doing stick figures as a kid, and I'm still doing them now. I have basically zero artistic talent."
I smiled, amused at the image of a grown man drawing stick figures. Particularly one as big and buff as he was.
"Hey," I said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. And fuck, once again there was that jolt of electricity that went passing through me. What the hell was I doing?
I cleared my throat. "Everyone can be an artist if they open themselves up to it."
Skylar laughed and shook his head. "If only that were true. These are really bad stick figures. I mean,” He waved his hands, and I couldn’t help but notice just how big they were. “Just terrible."
Did he have to be charming and funny on top of being cute as hell? If he was an idiot or boring, then it would be easy to ignore the attraction and get on with my life, but there he was talking to me about art, and that shit was impossible to resist.
"I could show you... if you wanted," I heard myself offering before I could even think about it, and I wanted to kick my own ass. "Art's like, one of those things I've been doing since I was old enough to remember. It's not that hard once you really get into it."
He looked back at me with those big, blue eyes, and that soft smile, and god-fucking-dammit.
"Yeah? I'd like that. I'd like that a lot," he said.
I grinned at him, relieved he’d said yes and didn’t think I was some kind of creep. “Cool. Lemme give you my number, and we can set something up.”
He just kept smiling at me, and I felt like maybe finally something was going my way.
5
Patrick
When I woke up that morning, I knew something was off.
In the line of work my brother and I were in, you had to trust your instincts. You had to go with your gut. If you thought someone was about to fuck you over, you had them killed because, if you were right, then you'd saved yourself a world of trouble...and if you were wrong, then well, sometimes shit happens. One less asshole to deal with. They were all replaceable.
We'd only gotten as far as we had by listening to our instincts and trusting each other.
So I never doubted my gut feelings, and right then it was practically screaming at me that something bad was coming. I didn't know what and I didn't know when, but I could feel it in the air crackling like a black crow calling out to me.
I rushed through my morning routine to get ready. I was still as meticulous as ever, clean-shaven, my facial hair aligned just right—I was still the boss and I had to look the part, even when I was in a hurry. Even when a daunting feeling of doom hung over me.
I took a car to the docks to make sure everything was going smoothly. No one was stupid enough to cross us, but there was always a chance, and with the sinking feeling in my gut, I just had to be sure. I had to see it all for myself.
Always. It was that tiny chance that someone might get too big for their britches that kept me looking over my shoulder and made me vet people before letting them get too close. I hadn't worked as hard as I had, goi
ng from being a snot-nosed little nothing in a foster home to living large like I did to let someone fuck it up without putting up a hell of a fight.
I was better than that. Smarter than that. I'd kill anyone who tried to get in my way.
Something bad was coming, but I'd be ready. We'd be ready. As much as my other half might try to resist it.
I hadn't talked to Paddox since we'd gotten into it at the warehouse, but he needed to be careful, too. We were a team, no matter how much shit I gave him. If he fell, we both fell. I'd have to warn him, let him know he needed to be on his guard.
The thought wouldn't leave me alone as I walked along the docks, so I pulled my phone out and called Paddox. Hearing his voice would help calm me down, probably, and I could tell him to be careful.
It rang and rang, but it went to voicemail. I hung up with a frown on my face.
We always took each other's calls. Even when we were pissed off at each other, we answered the damn phone. With the lives we led, anything could happen, and when it came down to it, we were all we had.
Ever since we were kids, getting bounced around from one shitty ass place to the next, the two of us had been a team. When dumbass kids picked on us for having bad clothes, no food, and nobody who gave a shit about us, we kicked their asses and suffered through our punishments together. We did what we had to do, and it had paid off, and we never would have made it through without each other.
Going through all that bonded us in a way that couldn't be broken, and he was my family. Even if everything else came crumbling down, I'd always have my brother.
The truth was, no one put up with my bullshit like Paddox did. The people who worked for us did it because they were scared to cross me, but he did it because he was family. Family stuck by you no matter what, and Paddox was always there for me.
I could admit to myself I'd been treating him kind of like shit lately. Getting in his face, riding his ass about little shit. I was stressed about making big moves and not knowing who I could trust, and it was making me treat the one person I knew I could always trust like crap, which wasn't fair. But that was also family. You treated them like shit sometimes because you knew they were the only ones who would forgive you.
I sighed. But that wasn’t a great excuse. I'd have to do better. I could drive away everyone else in my life and not give a shit about it, but Paddox was different. I didn't know how to be without him. I didn't want to have to learn.
If he was ignoring my calls, I’d gone too far. Occasionally, I pushed the wrong button too frequently with him, and he’d ice me out for a while. He always got over it, but it took some sort of gesture on my part. I added it to my growing list of things to do.
I kept walking along the docks. They were normal. Quiet, as they usually were when nothing was going on. Whatever misery was coming our way, the source wasn’t there.
This was stupid. I was wasting my time standing around, and irritation was rising in me like a tide. I needed to hit something.
There was no better release for anger than breaking shit, whether that was something as simple as a glass window or vase or someone's nose.
Hearing that crunch and watching things shatter into a million little pieces was just cathartic, and I needed that right then. I needed to calm my nerves somehow if I was going to be ready for whatever was coming for us.
Nothing was going to take us down. Not on my watch.
I made my way back to the warehouse. There'd be boxes to toss and people to intimidate, and by the end of it, I'd be feeling like my old self with any luck.
Back in the day, I'd have gone for a good, rough fuck to blow off steam, but it had been a while since I'd let myself get close enough to anyone for that. There were too many snakes out there, too many knives in the dark waiting to stab me in the back when I let my guard down, so I was going through a dry spell. But that was fine. I was making do with what I had. A boxing session might help me out. I mentally added it to the list.
As soon as I pulled up to the warehouse, the workers who were around when I rolled up caught wind of my bad mood almost immediately, and they went scurrying off, finding things to do so they didn't have to deal with me.
I couldn't blame them for that, but it pissed me off all the same. I was about to call out to one of them for a progress report when I caught sight of someone I didn't recognize sitting over in Paddox's little corner.
Must have been the guy I'd had hauled in. He looked like he worked out, but he didn't look like he could take out five guys by himself. He wasn't that big, and he didn't seem like he'd have the stomach for it.
I stood there for a bit, watching him fiddle with his phone, and my eyes narrowed. I didn't like being played, and I had to be sure.
I marched over to the unpacking area where groups of our men were unloading from a shipment. Crates and crates of guns were being cataloged and prepped to be sent out and given to our slingers to peddle.
Jake, the man who'd told me about the guy in the first place was there, and I grabbed him, pulling him aside.
"Who the fuck is that guy in the corner?" I demanded, and I could tell from the look on his face that he knew I wasn't in the mood to be fucked with.
"That's the guy," he said. "The one you wanted to see."
"He took down five guys on the east side? You sure about that?" I challenged.
He nodded immediately. "Yeah, boss. That's him for sure. Adrian could ID him for you if he could see outta his left eye, you know."
“Huh,” I huffed. “Interesting.” I laughed and let Jake go, taking a step back.
If he was as good as Jake said, maybe the kid had potential. The fact that he didn’t look like a threat might be to our advantage.
Jake looked relieved that he hadn't fucked up, and he went back to work while I went over to talk to the new guy.
He didn't stand out all that much. Muscular, but other than that he looked like every other small-time slinger in the operation. Scruffy and overly-eager. In fact, he almost had an innocent quality about him with his soft blond hair and bright eyes. The smile on his face as he talked with my brother made him seem even less intimidating.
I stepped into Paddox’s little corner. "Come with me," I said, reaching out to grab his upper arm and drag him up to his feet.
He stood up almost immediately as the smile melted from his face and turned more serious, and I could see a bit of the darkness flash in his eyes.
“Jesus, Patrick! What the fuck!” Paddox called out to me as I pulled the man to a quiet spot across the warehouse, but I ignored him. I had business to tend to. Paddox could make friends another time and with someone else.
I pushed the guy into a quiet, dark corner and looked him over. He seemed...unphased. Generally, people were more nervous around me. Especially when I dragged them to quiet, dark corners, but he seemed utterly sure of himself.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked, feeling like I needed to make sure. Everybody knew who I was, but he seemed way too comfortable to really understand who I was.
He nodded. "Yeah, of course."
"Good.” I ran my hand over my chin. “Then you know I don't fuck around,” I said harshly, earning me another relaxed nod. “I heard you took down five guys on the east side last night," I finished.
He hesitated for a second and then nodded again. "They were in my way," he said simply. "I just wanted to get home."
I sized him up again and then laughed. Cocky little shit. I appreciated it though. It was...refreshing. I could definitely stand to gain someone with a little backbone on my team.
"I was impressed when I heard about it,” I admitted. “I've been looking for some people to work security for me and the warehouse. We can't have people coming in and fucking with our shit, you know?”
I paced a slow circle around him, making sure he knew that I was sizing him up for everything he had.
“We've worked too damned hard,” I continued. “So I need people with smarts and muscle that I can trust."
&n
bsp; I watched his face while I talked, looking for any sign that he might be hiding something or lying to me. I was always checking, waiting for the day when I caught somebody trying to fuck me over. I'd kill him in a heartbeat if I had to.
But his face gave nothing away, really. He was just looking at me with those baby-blue eyes, waiting to hear what I had to say.
"That's understandable," he said coolly. "You can't have people going behind your back."
“Exactly.” I nodded, pointing at him. "What's your name?"
"Skylar."
I held my hand out for him to shake, and when he took it, I squeezed a bit, letting him feel that I meant business.
He had a solid handshake, firm like he'd shaken hands a lot in his life. His hands weren't soft, either. He knew how to work hard. I valued that in the people who worked for me. I didn't need any soft idiots who were too afraid to get their hands dirty.
"Well, Skylar," I said with a grin as I let him go. He seemed solid enough, and there was something...different about him. I liked it as much as I found it suspect.
"I want to offer you a job," I said.
"A job?" His eyes went wide.
"That's what I said.” I nodded. “Like I said, I need security for the warehouse. You keep my shit safe and take down anyone who has the balls to come in here and try to fuck with it.”
I met his eyes. “You'll be reporting directly to me. You interested?"
His face lit up a little, his eyes still wide with surprise. His lips pulled out of the stunned ‘oh’ they were in and twisted into a smile.
"I'm definitely interested," he said. "I accept."
I smiled back for reasons I couldn’t figure out. I wasn’t a smile back kind of guy, but Skylar was a little bit infectious.
"Good,” I said, fixing my face back into the stern expression it was used to. “I'll call you in when I need you."
Maybe a little extra security would help me feel better. If I knew things were safe and that anyone who came poking around looking for trouble would be dealt with, I could relax.
I was going to do whatever it took to make sure nothing fucked up what we had going on, and anyone who thought they could come in here and fuck with me was going to have a bad day ahead of them.