Page 52 of Debt of My Soul

Adam and I weren’t very close growing up, not because of any one thing in particular. Our differences in personality and interests always kept us entertained with separate activities. However, our family is an average one, happy to get together and enjoy a meal. There was never a shortage of discussion to be had or jokes to make at each other’s expense. We were normal … up until my sister.

Rocks beneath my tires give way to the large parking lot. I pull into the old diner that used to sit outside the main road into Ruin. It’s since been turned into a place for making a buck.

Stories of Ruin’s infamous diner-turned-gambling center have spread outside the town. The gas station attendant I spoke with on the short drive here mentioned he’d gone a time or two while pointing me in the right direction.

Secrecy isn’t something required, but this established underground gambling ring is not advertised. Word of mouth and hushed whispers attract the patrons eager to turn their luck around. Trust is the real currency here, and any betrayal can be as risky as the games themselves.

I park a short distance away, my walk in the spring night whisking by too quickly as I approach the door before me. It’s covered by a black material with zero security or indication I’m in the right place. If someone happened upon this run-down building, they’d be pressed to assume anything was going on here.

When the door opens, neon light filters out, and I wander through a smoke-filled labyrinth. Tables come into view and high-stakes poker games are scattered throughout. Clicking pulls my gaze to the roulette wheel, punctuating the sounds of clinking liquor glasses.

A few people cast glimpses my way, raising a hand in my direction before going back to their games. Mayor Johnson sits at a blackjack table with the town’s sheriff next to him. He leers at his cards before gesturing to the dealer for another hit. No wonder why this place exists with zero consequence.

I move through the room, sliding behind fully occupied seats and mostly full tables to scan the crowd for him. Adam’s hair is an inky brown, the exact opposite of mine, although we both keep our hair short. I’ve always had the hankering to grow my hair out like I had it in high school, but the academy wouldn’t be too keen on the idea.

In the corner of the room, with less light than the rest of the space, several people gather. Bags of something are exchanged, and money leaves hands quicker than you can say the word drugs.

I shouldn’t be here. Where the hell is Adam?

There’s a man pacing at the front of the room, hands deep in his dark jeans, wearing a shaggy leather jacket. A few men flank around him as they scan the tables of diverse characters playing.

Squinting, I get a better look, my eyes narrowing on the man himself. Darrin.

Stiff beneath the few spotlights focused on the tables, I inch around the room, casing for my brother while simultaneously heading for the front of the room. My fists clench at my sides, a subtle reminder to myself to stay calm. The man on Darrin’s right turns in my direction, eyes pinning me. I meet the stare.

As I approach, Darrin raises his chin and studies me as if he’s curious about the newcomer in his establishment versus concerned.

“I’m looking for my brother,” I say. “Friends of ours, Goff and River, mentioned he has been around here lately.”

Darrin stands a little straighter. “River?” he asks, and I blink.

“Her brother Goff told me.” I chide myself for even bringing River’s name into this. From the swallow that works itself down his throat at her name, I have a feeling he knows her.

“And your brother is Adam, I take it,” the man standing at Darrin’s side says.

“That’s right. He hasn’t been seen in a few days. My family is getting worried.”

A snort rings out from Darrin, and he wipes the back of his hand across his nose. Several tattoos entwine his fingers with some ink disappearing underneath his jacket. I’ve only begun my arm sleeve, but Ford is already trying to talk me into my thigh as well.

“Your brother is here, down the hall. Would you like me to take you to him?” A smirk twitches at the corner of his lips.

I nod, following Darrin to another dimly lit hallway. Both of his men walk behind us as we make for the last door on the right. With his hand hovering over the door handle, Darrin peers back at me, his gaze appraising.

“Don’t try anything stupid. Blitz, my right hand, is not so forgiving.”

I blink, unsure why he’s telling me this. Honestly, Adam better be in severe trouble for this charade he’s put our family through.

The old door, which I’m assuming was a back office for the diner’s owners at some point, squeaks open. I narrow my eyes immediately at the figure sitting slumped against the back wall.

There, Adam sits, head hung. Crimson leaks from his nose in a steady drip, and heated anger courses through my veins. What the hell?

“Adam,” I bark, stalking toward him. However, a large, burly man steps in my path, flashing gold teeth at me with an intimidating growl. I’m no small man. In fact, where Adam is lean muscle, I’m bulky and large. Titanic was a nickname in highschool given to me by the football players who always wanted me on their team. I preferred to have weekends to myself or with my sketch pad instead of suiting up to plow people over on grassy rectangles.

“Get out of my way,” I growl up at the man and after a quick flick of his eyes to his boss behind me, he steps aside.

Crouching down next to Adam, I say his name once more.

His face lifts to mine and I internally wince at the jagged position of his nose and the fresh cut above his eye.

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