Page 5 of Moros

Boswell was handsome, full lips, big brown eyes—a face that commanded authority.

The other, Khadri Weston on the other hand looked as if he’d gone through hell. His eyes held nothing but darkness and the ghastly scar lengthwise down his left eye left him looking like the sandman.

Hanging my head I sighed—I wasn’t good looking either.

I shouldn’t be calling anyone ugly.

But no matter what I was thinking, I couldn’t take my eyes off Khadri’s face—it was as if I knew him, somehow.

My hip began pulsing and I groaned. Picking up my phone, I made my way over to my bed.

By the time I sat down and found the end of my charger to plug my phone in, it was dead.

Irritated, I plugged it in and waddled to the bathroom to find ibuprofen.

2

KHADRI “MOROS” WESTON

“So, she’s looking for you.” Boswell “Boss” Teller puffed on his cigar before letting his head fall back to blow the smoke in perfectly rounded circles in the air. “She probably just wants to say thanks.”

“This is the kind of shit that makes me not want to get involved.” I muttered. “The only thing that matters is that she’s safe. I don’t need anyone’s gratitude.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be a good human.” Boss leaned forward to pick up his beer. “Maybe meet with her, let her buy you lunch or something—that should give her closure.”

“I fucking hate that word.”

“Yeah, maybe it hates you too.” Boss smirked.

“Damn it, Boss.”

“I know. I get it. But if she’s like most women, she won’t just go away. She feels like she owes you something now.” Boss scratched the back of his neck. “When you save someone’s life, there’s a tether there.”

Sighing, I took a long swallow from my beer and leaned back in the lawn chair, stretching my legs out in front of me.

Growing up, I was surrounded by people.

People I thought loved me, cared for me.

My parents dying in a freak accident cured me of that thought and thrust me into the reality they were only there for what my parents could do for them.

I didn’t trust anyone’s good intentions—tether or not.

They were there for the money—and once they found out my parents left it all to me, they began floating around.

A few of them even went to court trying to get guardianship of me. They knew if they controlled me, they controlled the money.

I wasn’t an idiot.

By the time the case was over, I was eighteen, legally an adult and they were shit out of luck.

There were very few people I trusted—Boswell was one, Wolf, Dude and Tex were the others.

And while Wolf’s’ team seemed like good people, I was still wary of a few of them.

The trust I had for these men were born through blood.

Finishing my beer, I picked up one of the chicken wings and popped a half of it into my mouth. I ate silently, thinking about Boss’ suggestion.

---