Page 39 of Puck'N Enemy
“I’ve got a buddy who knows people,” I say, hoping to calm him down.
“People?” He raises an eyebrow, refusing to believe me.
“I found out where you were living, didn’t I?” I say, rising to his challenge. “It didn’t even take him five minutes to get your address.”
“Logan, please tell me you’re not getting involved with another criminal asshole like Pete Volkov,” Dylan says, looking worried. “These sorts of people will ruin your life. I can’t let you take a risk.”
“I’m not the one who’ll get involved,” I tell him. “My friend’s the one who’ll use his connections to find us a way to deal with Pete.”
“Who is this friend of yours?” he asks, suddenly looking suspicious. “Are you guys...close?”
A chuckle escapes me. “What? You’re feeling jealous?”
He scoffs. “Ha! You wish!”
“It’s Mitchikov,” I tell him.
He groans. “Not that idiot again.”
“He’s not an idiot,” I say in a grim tone. “He’s extremely protective of his friends. You can count on him.”
“No, thanks,” Dylan mutters, looking gloomy.
“It’s better than letting Pete scare you into hiding,” I say in an assertive tone. “I’m not giving him the power to control our lives anymore.”
He rubs a hand down his face. “Gods! You’re still the same stubborn idiot.”
“And you’re still the same noble idiot who’d take a beating instead of asking for help.”
He smirks. “Touché.”
Reaching over, I grab his hand. “This time, we fight together.”
He hesitates for a heartbeat, but then squeezes my hand back. “Okay,” he whispers, looking both excited and scared.
Relief spreads through me.
I’ve finally got Dylan to trust me.
I won’t let anyone hurt you this time, I silently vow to him.I’ll fight the devil himself to keep you by my side.
13
Logan
Unable to let Dylan go, I walk with him back to Coach Becker’s apartment.
“Coach might’ve already gone to bed,” Dylan says, unlocking the door. “So, don’t be too loud, okay?”
“Sure,” I say, listening to the tenants in the adjacent apartment argue in high-pitched voices.
The door clicks shut behind us, muffling the voices.
“Yep, he’s gone to bed,” Dylan says, walking across the living room.
I follow him as he heads down another hallway and slowly opens a door.
Coach’s room is shrouded in darkness, the light from the hallway falling across his pale face as he sleeps. His chest rises and falls at a steady rhythm, telling me he’s fast asleep.
