“Lock. Look at you. Like fucking Lazarus. Shit, they hit you so hard I thought they killed you. There’s no goddamn way you’re here.” Dice jumped down from the brick half wall he was sitting on and slapped me on the shoulder.
I gave him a hard look. “Don’t be a bitch.”
We showed each other the gang sign that would now be a big part of our friendship, displaying the right amount of fingers and position to make sure that people watching knew who we were… and who we were with.
“Why, does that fucking hurt, asshole? You want to be a hero, I’m going to bust your balls about it.” Dice grabbed two more beers from a cooler by my feet.
We toasted all three drinks we had as I offered, “I’m on so many painkillers I could hammer a nail into wood with just my dick and not feel a thing.”
Dice cracked a smile. “You drag your dead ass here because you want to be some sort of legend? You got a long way to go, pup.”
“I’ll rise to the occasion, cumdonkey.” I took a gulp of my beer. I was 4000% sure I shouldn’t be drinking on painkillers with a possible concussion, but I did it anyway.
Dice nodded at my drinking, like he knew how much of a defiance it was. “You did good. You knew the rules were simple.”
I leaned against the brick. “Yeah. I know. Don’t fight back and don’t die. Pretty sure I did a little of both.”
Dice made a few hand gestures at another guy in the gang across the party before returning to our conversation. “That’s as true as a goddamn arrow.”
“You bastards are vicious.” I pressed one of my cold beer cans against my temple. I winced as I used the can as a makeshift ice pack.
“Your father didn’t think so.” Dice was giving me the business.
“He only thought some of you were worth saving, asshole.” I straightened up, my spine making a cracking noise as I did so. I was fucked up.
“Some of us, baby. You’re all in now. Down to your balls.” He pointed between my legs with his pinkie. He was responsible for the soreness there. During the beat-in, he made sure to hit me in the nuts. Asshole.
“Does he know?” Dice was scanning the party while we talked. “Party” was a strong word. A pointed gathering was a better description. We gathered to show our rivals we weren’t afraid to meet in public. Daring them to take action. Almost every male here was armed and a few of the girls.
“Nah. Ma doesn’t even know yet.” Neither of them would be happy about my new life, but what other option was there? “Choice was made, though.” I switched to using my beer for its real purpose and took another healthy swallow.
“Your Pops will hear soon. The Cokes on the inside will let him know.” Dice met my eyes. A warning. I was making decisions as a man now because I had to. My father was recently indicted on murder charges—false murder charges—so I was the man of the family now. My mother and sister were depending on me to save them from slipping into a homeless life.
The only thing I did better than mouth off was stay loyal to my girls. So I’d work in place of my now absent father to keep the peace and the safety in my family.
My father had begged me not to do the very thing I’d just committed to. There was no way out now. Prison, which was just a contained version of the hard fucking streets, or death put an end to what I’d just begun. But I was hard enough. I was mean enough. I’d do good work for my family, until I earned the money to get my mom and sister to a safe place. Maybe get them into a witness protection type of scenario.
At this particular house, the place that had a party from Thursday to Sunday afternoon, there were all the new, fresh young players. Conflicts were started here. Merchandise was exchanged as well. Lives ended here, too. The Cokes wore red bandanas. We were an offshoot of the Dutch family. They controlled all of Valston and beyond. Our greatest local rivals were the Pepsis. Ironically named. They were not part of the Dutch family. Loyalty to one or the other was a way of life in my neighborhood.
It was where I had to be until I could run with the big dogs. I started doing what Dice was doing. Watching the scene. I’d have to learn how to notice the slight changes in body language. When a party went sour, it could turn deadly. Fights needed to be squashed immediately, prevented if possible. We’d watch for cops. We’d watch for gangbangers. Girls who didn’t belong that might start a war for being in the wrong place at the right time. When I saw her, I knew she was out of the element. There was a way everyone here walked and talked. A guarded type of revelry. But she was scared. And hazy. She kept walking out of her unlaced shoe and dropped her phone three times as she was pushed from behind. Older Cokes were trailing her.
Her long blonde hair was loose and messy. She had on a yellow sundress and black combat boots. Her nail polish was red and so were her lips and she was on something. I just knew how that looked. The neighborhood had addicts. The Cokes sold drugs. I could put it all together.
A group of guys was forming around her, each of them wearing bandanas in varying degrees of wear and tear. It was off. She didn’t seem to be able to focus, twirling in a circle, letting the strap of her sundress fall off her shoulder.
Dice leaned over to me. “Looks like those fuckers found someone to roofie.”
Of course. It’d explain her uncoordinated movements.
I took another peek at her. She was good-looking and in a ton of trouble. A girl with a delicate heart necklace wouldn’t be used to this kind of trouble. I sighed. The guys were now poking at her, mocking her confusion; it was like watching someone rip the wings off a butterfly.
Dice punched my arm. “Don’t. Seriously. They paid money for those drugs. They’re going to want to get their money’s worth.”
I glowered at Dice. “Don’t be a shithead.”
It looked like I was going to get my ass kicked yet again as I set my beer down and yelled, “Hey!”
Chapter 3
Ember
HARMONY HILL WAS BEAUTIFUL at night. It was a quaint college town, but close enough to downtown Valston that it was still pretty civilized. There was a makeup store there and a great outdoor mall. And it was a stiff ten hours away from Midville. And Nix. And Animal. And T. And Becca. And Aunt Dor. And my possible father...but that was a train of thought for a different night.
I was almost sure I was the only girl moving into the dorms with an entourage of three guys.
They looked ridiculous, carrying all my pink and leopard-printed suitcases and bags up two stories to my new room. I had no roommate. Nix had done something, or Animal. Well, any of them would know how to hack into a system like Harmony Hill University’s dorm assignments. I should’ve fought it. Stayed in a six-girl suite with one bathroom. Stood in line for my shower in the morning.
But I liked having my own bathroom just off my bedroom. I’d have to go out and get food and stuff, but I didn’t have to spend that much time with other people. The cover story was that Wardon, Bowen, and Thrice were also enrolled as students. They would hang around with me. They were young enough that they could blend in with the crowd I should be around now. It would look like a rotating group of guys were platonic friends with me.
They were all trained in various ways to kill someone. Hack a computer, canvass a scene. T and Animal approved each of them to be in the entourage, and some of the conversations I’d heard about the rigorous tests they had to complete were crazy-pants. It sounded like boot camp in a dumpster fire.
They were probably making bank. Bowen was lanky and the last guy you’d notice in a crowd, until he locked eyes with you. The crystal blue you found there was disarming. He was currently hanging up my fairy lights and cursing at how tangled they were. I had to explain that they fell like a curtain, not like a string you would put around a Christmas tree.
I hung my pictures and found a good place for my camera. I had the extra lenses wrapped up and waiting in my camera bag if I needed them. Pictures were my art. Well, one of the many different ways I liked to create stuff.
Wardon was cute, tall with cur
ly brown hair. He’d flirted with me in the past and seemed overeager to help me unpack my clothes. I had to slap his hands when he got to my thongs. I thought Wardon would be in charge, because he’d been assigned to me for T and Animal’s wedding in Vegas, but he seemed to defer to Thrice.
And then Thrice, of course. He was the only one who couldn’t quite pass for a college student. He was getting to look a little too daddy. But his experience was apparently too amazing to leave at home. He was ignoring my decorations and bed linens to investigate the buildings’ floor plans on his laptop, using the box from my small dorm-sized fridge as a desk.
While we unpacked I tried to ask more about the world that Nix and Animal came from. I knew it was sugarcoated and bubble wrapped for me. But I wanted to know what they actually did. Were they really into things that I’d be against? No one took the bait—either brushing me off or ignoring me outright.
After all my bags were in my room, I was starving. Thrice mentioned that he’d seen a pizza place on the ride that looked decent.
I agreed. But grabbing a slice of pizza wouldn’t be a simple act of a hungry college student, I found out. It involved an online search from Wardon, who was looking at ratings and reading the one star ones out loud. Bowen was scanning the police reports via an Animal connection to make sure there’d been no criminal activity in the area lately. And Thrice used Google Earth to survey the property.
It was overkill. “Guys. We passed two cow farms on our way here. This place is not going to be a hotbed of criminal activity. Can we just get a slice?” I was shushed.
Wardon went in to scope the place when we actually arrived an hour and half later, though the drive was only about twenty minutes. Finally, I was permitted to walk into the shop with Thrice’s arm around my shoulders. Bowen smiled and laughed like I’d told a joke.
Thrice led me to a booth against the back wall and slid in next to me. Wardon was in charge of ordering. We were getting two cheese pizzas. So apparently my opinion was not needed for what I actually got to eat for dinner.
I glanced around the restaurant. There were two booths full of college kids laughing and having a great time. They all had friends; I had bodyguards.
I didn’t realize until now how much I wouldn’t get to experience. If these three treated me like a president and they were my secret service, I’d never get to make friends. Or go on dates. Or make out with anyone.
Wardon slid into the booth as well, forcing Bowen to put his shoulder against the wall. The waitress brought our pies over. No small talk. The long ride had taken all of that out of us. I stared at my reflection in the pizzeria window. There I was, surrounded by my brother’s men, and still lonely.
My image cracked and the glass exploded as a man flew through the window. My comfort was clearly not a concern as Thrice jammed me by my head under the table. My guys moved fast, I had to give them that. People in the restaurant were screaming, some shouting. I thought I heard a gunshot outside.
I knew Thrice, Bowen, and Wardon would be armed. It was the whole reason they were here. I peeked out between Thrice’s legs, bumping my head on the support of the booth.
A voice shouted from outside, “The only thing that thick skull of yours is good for is a battering ram.” A group of men was staring through the shattered front window into the restaurant.
The guy who had been the projectile pushed himself up a bit. Before he could respond, he started coughing. He just held up his middle finger instead.
“Oh, that bitch. That’s it. He’s dead.” Clearly, the men were coming in. From my spot under the table, I could make out that they were all wearing red bandanas around their wrists.
Bowen and Wardon moved to stand in front of the man sprawled on the ground.
“How about we move along?” Wardon suggested.
The guys on the outside of the restaurant started throwing things through the window. Rocks, bottles, and a shoe came flying in.
A giant fistfight was about to go down, but my brother’s men didn’t take out their guns. I studied the guy at the center of the floor, where the glass of the window he’d just been thrown through surrounded him.
Black hair, blue eyes, and a dimple almost made up for the blood coming from his busted lip. From his spot on the restaurant’s grimy floor, he gave me the most genuine smile. Like we were friends. Like he was getting up the courage to ask me to dance. Meanwhile, the men wearing red bandanas poured into the restaurant. Bowen threw one man over the counter; the pizzas that were waiting for customers clattered to the ground. Thrice stepped forward and took two other red bandanas to the floor with crackingly well-delivered punches. The other customers were either screaming, fighting, or filming the scene on their phones.
Despite the bedlam surrounding us, the world stopped spinning. I felt my lips part and a smile fight its way to return to him.
Him.
He turned over from his back to his belly and army crawled to me, dragging himself on his elbows, smiling the whole time.
I pushed Thrice to the side with pressure on his calf. Whatever he was dealing with must have been enormous, because he leaned enough out of my way that I could do my best to pull Dimples to cover.
There was blood pooling under his right leg.
“I’d cut my leg off to get here to you.”
Sparkling. His eyes were sparkling at me.
I usually had a fresh mouth. A quick reply.
“Hi,” was all I could come up with.
He was a lot to process. He was all kinds of handsome, but also all kinds of injured. So, so injured. The black eye made me wince, just thinking of how hard he had to have been hit to get it. There were cuts on his cheekbones and his neck had deep purple marks, almost like he was choked. There was blood from possibly more than his leg, but whatever he had going on under his jeans had to be bad. The blood was changing the deep denim to almost black from the knee down.
Panic welled up in my chest; I was out of my depth. I’d only helped one bleeding person—like really bleeding—when I was a kid. I’d put some mulch on her cut. It wasn’t effective.
The color was draining from his face.
He was still hitting on me as he was declining. “So, do you live around here? Do they have a movie theater? If I don’t die, do you want to see a movie on Friday? Hell, you’re so fucking pretty I’ll pick you up even if I’m a ghost.”
I yanked my jacket off the bench and tried to tune out the sounds of the battle around us. “Where’s this blood coming from?”
He answered my question by grabbing his thigh. The space was tight—our bodies were pressed close together. My jeans would be ruined with his blood. I wadded up my jacket and pressed down on his leg, where the bleeding seemed to be the worst.
Our foreheads were almost touching. The fighting seemed to be winding down. Customers were coming out from under the tables, and the red bandanas were carrying each other out of the restaurant as best they could. Everything was quieting down, though there were sounds of approaching sirens. It seemed like the tinkling of broken glass would go on forever—the front window had been so large that slivers of glass in the frame kept cutting loose.
“Hey, angel face, if you want to stop the bleeding, you’re really going to have to press down on me. Like a lot.” His breath brushed my neck.
Thrice popped his head into our alcove. “What the fuck?”
Before I could get a good grip and help, Dimples was dragged away from me.
Bowen had a gun to Dimples’ head in a second.
“Stop. No.” I crawled out, but Wardon got between the injured man and me.
“Who are you?” Thrice started in with the questioning.
He pointed at me. “Her future husband.”
He was cheeky. And still sparkling. Having a gun to his head didn’t faze him.
“You don’t know who you’re talking about. She’s so out of your league, you don’t even play the same sport.”
“I’m Sherlock. They call me Lock.” He w
as giving me his name, not answering their questions.
“I’d call you Shirley,” Wardon offered. But Lock didn’t respond. His flirty manner fell away as his eyes rolled into his head and his mouth fell slack.
I fought to get around Wardon. “Stop. Help him.”
Thrice stood, letting Lock collapse to the ground unassisted. His head thumped on the floor.
“Is anyone dead?” I whispered.
“No. No one is dead. Yet. Maybe this kid.” Thrice pointed to another man lying on the ground, who suddenly sputtered to life, and started to crawl away. “Well, that’s a lot of blood. We’re out. I don’t want to deal with the cops. Let’s bounce.” He pointed to the door with one hand and made to grab my wrist with the other.
I stepped away from Wardon’s searching hand. “I’m not going. Fix him or save him. Two choices. That’s it.”
I felt my spine stiffen. I wasn’t going to abuse my power, but I realized how much of it I had as I stood in the pizza parlor. These men worked for me. Sort of. Enough to make me hold my ground.
Wardon attempted to usher me past the situation. Past Lock.
“Don’t touch me.” I leveled my bitchiest glare at him.
Wardon let go and gestured wildly to Thrice. “What the hell do we do?”
Thrice seemed to time his steps to the pulse of the sirens that were almost on top of us.
I took a look around finally. It was like a tornado had ripped through this quaint mom and pop pizza shop.
“This isn’t a game, Ember. We’ve got to go.” He was imploring me to make it easy.
“He comes. Bring him.” My demanding voice had a hoarseness to it now. Maybe I didn’t know what I was asking from them, but there was going to be a before and an after in this night. I was going to set the precedent now. Chaos and sadness didn’t trump my opinion.
Bowen acted, bending low and pulling on Lock’s motionless body.
Wardon left my side and helped heft Lock between them. Then he nodded. He escorted me around the counter. The restaurant’s workers were cowering behind it. Thrice pointed his gun at them. “You never saw us.” When they mutely nodded, he lowered the gun and continued to the exit.
LOCK Page 2