Page 4 of When Sinners Dare

KAI

“Jack, Joe.”

He puts a shot glass down in front of me, sliding the bottle of Jack alongside it. I stare at both, trying to keep my cool in check. No need to look around this joint. I know it like the back of my hand. It’s still as fucked up as it used to be, and the same assholes still blacken the air with their kind of disease.

My kind of disease.

“You gonna stay round here now you’re out?” Old Joe asks, wiping down his bar.

I look up at him and shake my head. “No. Just need to get a few things said to someone. I’m done with this place.”

He leans on the bar in front of me and cocks up one of those weary, old brows of his. “Done? You don’t get to be done with the life you lead. You’ll never get out of it.”

“Led.”

“What?”

“The life I led. I’m done with it. Gotta job someplace else. Leaving tomorrow.”

He chuckles at me and stands again. “Yeah.” The rag gets picked up, and he dismisses me to go back to wiping his glasses and bar again. “I’ve heard a load of other kids say that, too.”

Frowning, I look back at my Jack again. I'm as far away from a kid as I can be. Stopped being that twenty years ago when I left the care system and had to fend for myself. Although, I guess to him and his sixty-plus years,thirty-fiveis still kinda adolescent.

I down the shot, refill and then keep on waiting because he won’t be on time. He doesn’t even know what on time means. Jonny Ramirez does his own version of time. Shit happens when he thinks it should, and we all wait like dogs at heel for command. At least, that’s how it used to be eight years ago when I last saw him. Suppose it still has been considering the phone he had brought inside for me. And yeah, I used it to keep myself safe in that place. I dealt, I wagered, and I used my skills to my advantage, but I’ll be done after this. No dealing anymore. No robbery.

No fucking fighting and threatening, either.

The door breaks open, and I hear the spill of his guys coming in before he does. I don’t look, but I do shift my weight and take a long breath. A hand slaps me on the back, and another hand ruffles my hair in a sign of greeting.

“Man, we’ve missed you out here,” Creep says. I spin on the stool and look at his heavily scarred face, then glance at Dexter and the rest of the gang. “You alright?” I nod and keep watching the door, still waiting for Jonny to make his way in.

Dexter starts up then, “You gonna fucking speak, bro?” And there it is – the goddamn pull back in. Bro. I’m not his brother. I’m alone. An only child. Orphan, too. So no, I’m not gonna speak. Speaking means engaging, and engaging and boozing is gonna get me straight back to where I was before I took the hit for a motherfucking liar. Some goddamn family this was.

They all start up at me after that. The words get sour, and the atmosphere soon drops to hostile and offensive. I don’t mind that this one last time. None of them have got any chance against me anyway, and with Jonny about to feel the full force of eight years’ worth of grievance, I could do with a warm-up.

Hands shove my back. “Yo, man, what the fuck?” Dexter jibes. “You too good for us now?”

“Yeah, maybe he thinks he’s a fucking king now after surviving the wall,” Creep snarls.

I still don’t take my eyes off that door, and the half-hearted swing that Dexter tries for ends up with him over the bar and his face planted for daring. He rebounds and collapses to the floor at the same time as Jonny walks in. I’m up and moving at him before he manages to grab for his gun after what he sees. A hard right fist gets aimed straight at his jaw, and he recoils away from me and tries snatching the gun again. That’s when Creep manages to get an arm locked around my throat.

My head slams back into him, knocking him the fuck off balance and giving me the room I need to get my point felt. Jonny’s still fumbling with shit, and I’m in his face again so quick he hasn’t got a chance. Tables get trashed as I slide him over them, and pictures and mirrors get smashed up as I keep rallying punch after punch at his body. I’m almost lost in it. Eightfucking years of misery and detention. Eightgoddamn years of being too damn pretty for my own good. I can still feel those guards, still smell the stale stench of their breath coming over my shoulder.

People scatter in my periphery, and then I feel the stab of pain the second Dexter gets his knife into my side. Doesn’t stop me, but it does make me spin and break his fucking arm for getting involved in something that was nothing to do with him. He wails and falls backwards, eyes wide with fear about what’s going down. Good. He should be scared. This is eight years of pain and humiliation coming out now, with a record following me for the rest of my goddamn life. Eightfucking years – gone.

I move back to Jonny to get this finished, but he’s found his gun and decided to point it at me. First time I’ve ever seen his handshake. A small smile lifts my lips. Might be the only one that’s happened since I came out. “You gonna end me, Jonny?”

I stay exactly where I am, letting my frame block out anything but me.

He moves himself up from the floor, and stumbles back a few steps. Gun still shaking. Face still bleeding. “Dense fuck,” he says shakily. “You know what this means.”

Three of the guys move behind me, all of them ready to do their master’s bidding, no doubt.

“You think I give a damn? Why not put that down. Man on man, you know?” He walks over, wiping his hand over the blood trailing out of his temple. “Can't, can you? Too fucking weak for that. Pussy.”

He hobbles forward again, gripping his side. “You’re a fucking dick, Kai. You owed me that time. Without me and-” I move, turn my back into him, and grab the gun out of his hand before he’s got the rest out of his mouth. One firm leg swipe and he’s on the floor again, the muzzle of his own gun resting against the blood still pouring outta him.

“You know, there’s this time inside,” I mutter, pressing in harder. “A bit of space to breathe. You gotta learn new trades. Be civilised for when you come out. That’s what they say I am now – civilised. You think I’m civilised, Jonny?” No answer. Just a still body trying not to show his panic. I let him rest in it, happy enough to give him a few moments to let this threat sink all the way in. “Luckily for you, I learned a thing or two about controlling my temper to start being civilised.” I back off, pulling the gun away from him. “But make no mistake, you come at me, or try coaxing me back in or threatening me, and I’ll let that control off its leash and hunt your ass down. You hearing me? I won’t give one fuck about going to hell as long as you come with me. You sold me down the river. You don’t get a say in the rest of my life. My debt is paid.”

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