Page 52 of Breaking the Sinner

“At least be honest if you jacked it for something else.”

Klay sighed testily, burrowing back into the cushion. “I was short for a pick-up. I made it all back though, so it’s not like it matters.”

“You’re a fucking drug dealer,” Cobra said, picking up his discarded laundry bag. “I thought you were supposed to make money, not smoke it all away.”

“Psssh.” He laughed cockily. “I’ll smoke it away if I wanna. K ain’t cheap, brutha.”

Ketamine. Cobra gritted his teeth; it had started as a recreational thing, but knowing Klay, he was probably doing it every day now. Wasn’t his cup of tea, personally, but he didn’t begrudge a guy his vices. Until they got to be ugly beasts. “Whatever, man. I’m out.”

“Maybe if you took a line you’d be able to get that stick out your ass,” Klay shot back as Cobra reached for the door. “You want one? Come on. I’ll give it to you now, if you’ll get off your motherfucking high horse for a goddamn second.”

Adrenaline licked through him. He thought back to the mirror in his bedroom. Maybe they could put another crack in it lengthwise this time. “Fuck you.”

“No, fuckyou.” Klay stood, bong discarded on the coffee table. Off the couch—this was serious. He came at Cobra with a crazed look in his eye, something between determination and gluttony. “How about I give you a fucking black eye to take to your precious gym?”

Cobra couldn’t help but laugh. He dropped the laundry bag, lifting his arms out to his sides. “Give it a try, asshole.”

Klay lunged forward, fist flying faster than Cobra expected. He knocked him on the jaw, but Cobra’s instincts took over. He didn’t even think, just launched his own fist into Klay’s face and locked his arm around his neck. They stumbled against the wall; Cobra slammed him against the drywall head first. A dent appeared.

“Fuck you,” Klay wailed, thrashing against Cobra’s hold. If only Travis could see him now. He saw this move in the MMA training camp last week. It was rock solid, too. Klay had no hope.

“Don’t come at me again,” Cobra said, tightening his grip around Klay’s neck, which caused his spine to bend back at a threatening angle. “If I snap you back, you’re paralyzed.”

It was an empty threat, but fuck it. Klay gurgled. Cobra let go of him. His roommate collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Cobra reached for his sack of laundry and slung it over his shoulder for the last time. Then he sauntered out of the apartment, oddly sated. Maybe they should fight more often. Maybe that’s all he needed—punching Klay in the face on a schedule. Once every two weeks should do the trick.

Inside his car, sweat prickled at his temples almost immediately. He swore as he checked himself in the mirror; the fucker had gotten in a better punch than he expected. The left side of his mouth was swollen already.

He drove to the laundromat with his knuckles still prickling to fight. The three punches and a hold hadn’t been enough; there was still energy to get out of him.

The laundromat was mostly empty once he got there—thankfully. He hated milling around with strangers who wouldn’t look at him, much less talk to him. Sometimes he could feel people sizing him up, searching for gang signs in the neck tats, most likely. It was better to be alone.

Or with Gen.

He grabbed his laundry bag and pushed in through the glass front door. Security cameras aimed down from every corner of the wide, bright room. A fan whirred quietly in the corner. He picked the washer in the farthest corner, stuffing clothes inside the barrel and dumping in detergent on auto-pilot. Once the clothes sloshed soapy and wet behind the clear door of the washer, his hand went to his back pocket.

No texting Gen.

Fine. What would the boys at the gym do with this extra time? He spied a bar above the manager’s door. Those assholes would work out.

And so would he.

Chapter 22

COBRA: Wyd

GEN: What does that mean? It’s not a word.

COBRA: ???

GEN: Are you laughing? It’s just boxes again.

COBRA: Damn girl. I told you to upgrade!

COBRA: It means what you doin? What’re you doing Gen? That sweet ass got any time for me?

Gen stared at her phone, every inch of her body reacting to his text message. Butterflies swarmed where there was previously not an ounce of wildlife. Cobra could do that—make random creatures invade her body.

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