Page 74 of Convict's Game
“That time? Assault. You’re handy with your fists. You got three years. They made you serve two. Is all of that a blank?”
I managed a small nod. “So what’s my problem? Am I reckless or just really bad at not getting caught?”
Arran twisted his lips to one side. “Reckless is one word. I’d use relentless. I’ve known you for over a decade, and you haven’t changed. When you have a task, you do anything to see it through. Nothing stops you. That tunnel vision carries the risk of not giving a fuck about the cops. A last-man-standing kind of deal.”
“I’m boneheaded.”
He shook his head. “You’re loyal and determined.”
“Am I?” I stared at him. “Because I can’t handle the thought that I let you down. That I let my crew down. I know from Dixie that I entered the game against your orders. I earned your anger, and rightly so. What I don’t know is the second part of it. Dixie told me I’d done something else except she didn’t have the details. Can you tell me?”
Arran stood and crossed to the kitchen. From a shelf, he took glasses and a whisky bottle. He poured two shots and returned, handing one to me and staying on his feet.
He tossed his back and grimaced. “First, the game incident. You broke the rules by going into it, but my reaction was unjustified. It centred on the fact it was Genevieve you hunted. Like you, she wasn’t supposed to be in there. I was already fucked up over her, just as I’m even more fucked up over her now we’re married. I’d kill for her. At that point in time, I didn’t understand it.”
“I get it. If anyone touched Mila, I’d find myself in prison again, this time for murder.”
He snorted. “That’s what Tyler told me. You and she were something, but she entered the game and needed rescuing. I understand the feeling. But back to the first time. After my bad reaction, I pushed you to the edge of the crew and gave you the task of monitoring the Four Milers. Not every part of it went to plan. I discovered you fronting for them and beat the living shit out of you. I didn’t take the time to listen or even think about how my friend who’d spent years of his life behind bars was coping. No discussion, no reprieve. I hate myself for that.”
I swallowed my drink, relishing the burn. What a fucking mess. “Don’t. I no doubt deserved it. Is that when I went undercover?”
He explained how he’d publicly thrown me out of the gang, and fresh flashes of memory came of being snapped up by the Four Milers who’d thought me fair game.
Arran continued. “Know what haunts me? You asked to come home, and I said not yet. You have no idea how badly I’ve regretted that. I let down one of my oldest friends because of changes in my life I couldn’t begin to get to grips with. That’s on me, and it won’t happen again. When I tell you I’m sorry, I mean it. I’ll make it up to you. Whatever you need is yours.”
I hadn’t expected this. The emotions inside me surged, and I couldn’t meet his eye. Only at the cat cuddled up to my chest andgiving comfort I barely deserved. Arran wasn’t kicking me out. It gutted me to think of the disconnect between us. I’d created that.
“The only thing I want is your friendship back. And maybe a little help remembering who I am.”
Arran grasped my hand and pulled me to my feet and into a hard hug that felt so familiar it hurt. Rosie the cat slunk away, her work done.
“Consider it yours. Now, come with me. I want to walk around the club with you so people can see us together. They’ll need to know we’re both still breathing.”
Together, we made our way out of the apartment.
“Any particular reason they’re expecting bloodshed?” I asked.
Arran sighed. “After you arrived, I had a barrage of texts from various crew members, all offering encouragement to basically not be a dick.”
He called the lift, and I lightly barged his shoulder with mine.
“What if we come out swinging? Give them something to stare at?”
He gave me an indulgent look. “This is why I love you. You have every right to despise me, yet here you are, your usual self.”
“Love you, too, brother. That’s one thing I never forgot.”
We travelled down in the lift. At the ground floor, Arran slung a casual arm around my neck. I shoved him off me, grinning. Multiple people in skeleton crew t-shirts or the pink-and-black strip club uniform openly gawked then busied themselves at their tasks, stealing glimpses and poking others to take in the show.
At the entrance to the office, Shade and Tyler swapped a clearly relieved glance.
Arran gave a short laugh. “Put away the knives. We’re good.”
Shade cocked his head. “I was going with a straitjacket, actually.”
Tyler’s gaze stuck on me. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
He meant my memory. No use hedging around it now. “And appear more of a fuck-up? No, thanks. Listen, if you’re sticking around, I’ll find you later with Mila.”
