Page 10 of Avenging Kelly

“What’s going on, Kelly?” I asked, trying like hell to keep the man’s eyes fixed on me in hopes I could de-escalate the situation before he did something we’d both regret.

Kelly used the muzzle of the gun to point me toward the table, so I slowly backed over and took a seat, studying him to figure out what the fuck was going through his head. “Kelly, man, you okay?” I asked, again.

“I can beat it. I know I can beat this.”

Kelly rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, not further explaining what the hell he wanted to beat. Hell, maybe it was me?

I turned to Dallas. “You okay?”

“I think your friend here has a drug problem,” Dallas stated, taking a swig of his beer with his free hand.

Dealing with a gun-toting junkie wasn’t on my agenda for the day. “Kelly, let me call Gabby, and we’ll get you some help. I know prisons are as full of drugs as the streets, so it’s not your fault, man. We can get you clean and help you get through this,” I told him, trying to keep the absolute fear at bay that he’d shoot my brother.

Kelly rocked his head. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not like that. I can’t… The only way out of this hell is death. They own me for the rest of my fucking life, so after I get revenge for Mia and Mathis, I’m out,” Kelly whispered, his voice tightening as he pushed the muzzle of the gun away from Dallas and me. We both released a relieved sigh at his gesture.

“Come on, man. Tell us what’s going on. Let us help you,” Dallas said, trying to assure Kelly of something I wasn’t sure we could do.

Without knowing exactly what monkey was riding Kelly’s back or how hard it would be to get the guy clean, it wasn’t the time to make bullshit promises. When I had a minute, I’d give Gabby a head’s up that we had a huge fucking problem because what we should do about it was totally up to him.

“I can’t. It’s Top Secret—Codeword Clearance. If I told you, they’d come after you, too.”

Top Secret—Codeword Clearance? That was military jargon for a bunch of fucking trouble, I was certain.

“What are you on, man?” I asked, internally cringing at the vast possibilities of what he was addicted to and what it would take to get him off of it.

“Poker Chips,” Kelly answered. He was getting more and more anxious and agitated as we sat at the table, which was worrisome.

“What’s Poker Chips?” Dallas asked.

Kelly tossed a small silver key onto the table near my brother, and Dallas reached for it, unlocking the cuffs and placing them on the glass top before he rubbed his wrist. I could see a red mark where the metal had chafed the skin, but I was grateful that Kelly seemed to come back to himself enough to understand that what he was doing by holding my brother against his wishes was wrong.

“I have no goddamn idea. They never told us what it was. Fuck! I can’t say anything else…” Kelly’s voice trailed off before he jumped up from the table and hurried down the hallway to god knew where.

Dal and I heard a door slam, and I looked at my brother. “What the fuck is going on?”

“You got any buddies at DEA who could shed a little light on this Poker Chips shit? Maybe it’s a new street drug?” Dallas got up and went into the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of water and another beer before taking his seat.

I was going to hate myself, but… “Yeah, uh, I might. I’m gonna need to get a sample to get it analyzed, but for now I can go talk to someone to lay the groundwork. Can you keep an eye on him until I call you? Let’s switch phones back, okay?”

I reached into my jacket pocket and handed Dallas his phone and my Ruger, and he returned my phone, shoving the revolver behind his back. “I got it.”

I grabbed the bottle of water from the table and let myself out, dreading what I was going to do next. Revisiting a nasty breakup was never a treat.

4

KELLY

As much as I hated to admit defeat, I knew when I was beaten. In order to function half-ass normally to take care of those assholes who’d harmed my sister and killed my friend, I needed the Poker Chips, even if I didn’t like it.

I injected myself with my overdue hit while sitting on the lid of the toilet, waiting for it to circulate through my system to keep from killing London or his brother in a fit of rage. In just a few seconds, I felt the rush I needed.

Dallas St. Michael had been nosing around my bike when I’d found him as I was about to head back to GEA-A to return their tracker I’d found planted on my bike the previous evening. I didn’t know who he was, so I intercepted him and brought him upstairs at gunpoint. It was a relief to learn he wasn’t working for the government and was looking after me at his brother’s request.

The previous night, I’d seen London St. Michael snooping around the garage under the building by accessing the multitude of security cameras mounted near the elevator. The Gambler’s place was wired up like the NSA, and I figured out how to turn on all the devices to see what the fuck was going on throughout the business floors of the structure and the hallways of the residences, a few odd things catching my eye.

I had to wonder if Randolph Spires even knew half the shit that went on in his building. One place I couldn’t see was the top two floors—the Spires’ penthouse—but really, who gave a shit about that narcissistic prick?

Spires Tower seemed almost as secure as a military installation—with armed guards who roamed the property at all hours of the day and night. It wasn’t too surprising, considering what The Gambler did for the US Government. Her surveillance equipment was in the second bedroom of the safe house, and I had to wonder what had made her so fucking paranoid… or maybe who?

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