Page 4 of Along for the Ride

“Fair enough, but leave the thinking to me all the same. I’ve already got it planned out. You and your brother are gonna take a little road trip. You’ll find a van and your gear at—”

“I don’t work with Karson anymore.”

George laughs, and the sound rakes across every raw nerve in my body. “You don’t have a choice. He botched a hit, Gentry. It happened a few weeks before you got out, but it’s not looking good for him.”

“He got himself into this, and he’ll have to get himself out of it.” I won’t go out of my way for a man who pushed me out of his.

“I don’t think you understand. Either you take him with you and keep him on a short leash or we’ll hang him from one.”

George’s tone has sobered, so he means business. Karson’s in deep shit, and now I have to let him sink or wade through it and pull him out. Fuck.

“Fine, I’ll take him with me.” What could go fucking wrong?

We could end up on the wrong side of a hit list because of Karson, that’s what. And I’ll have no one to blame but myself for letting him worm back into my life. I don’t have a choice, though. He’s an asshole, a liability, a snake, and a major piece of shit.

But he’s also my brother.

I get the details for the first hit and finish up the conversation. With a sigh and a death grip on my phone, I dial Karson’s number. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey, G,” he says. “Since we still aren’t speaking, I can only assume you’re calling about my impending demise.” He follows his sentence with laughter, then crunching as he snacks on whatever the fuck he’s eating.

“You heard?”

“Nah, but I know it’s coming. It cost George a lot of money to fix that job. I shouldn’t have played so much, but I just couldn’t help myself.”Crunch.The sound makes my eye twitch. How can he discuss his death so coolly while eating the loudest snack known to man? I don’t think Karson will ever take anything seriously. Not my life and not his own. “What will you say at my funeral, G? You’ll probably need a closed casket for what they plan to do to my face.”

“For fuck’s sake, Karson. I’m calling to offer you an out.”

Aside from the non-stop chewing, he’s silent.

“Come work with me, and they’ll let you live...probably.”

“Work for you?Underyou? No thanks. I’ll turn myself in to his firing squad before I work under you again. I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“Clearly. Have a good life, or what’s left of it.” I pull the phone away from my ear to hang up.

“Wait,wait!” he screams, loud enough for it to sound like he’s on speakerphone. I put the phone to my ear. “Fine, I’ll do it.” Somehow he says it like he’s agreeing to domea favor. How he twists shit around in his mind is beyond me. Trust me, he is doing me no favors.

I give him the details and tell him to meet at my place in a few days.

The Kursed brothers are back in business.

* * *

Leana

I throw clothes into a bag,but before I slide the strap over my shoulder, I freeze. Just like the time before this and the time before that, I can’t complete the motions. I can’t leave. My body rebels, begging for more drugs before my most recent hit has even left my system. Mickey is a fucking asshole, but he deals narcotics like candy, and those are my friends.

I rub a hand down old track marks on my arm and think about when Mickey met me for the first time outside that bus station. He took me in. Fed me. Drugged me up and made me his. The chains on my wrists and ankles are invisible, but they still bind me in place.

My hand goes to other marks on my skin. Bruises that are still tender beneath my shaking fingertips. A scar near the base of my skull from the first time I told Mickey no. If I leave and the withdrawal doesn’t kill me, he will.

I abandon the bag and kick it beneath the bed, going to the dresser instead. Tucked inside the top drawer is my meager stash of pills. I obsessively count them out. The dwindling number gives me anxiety, but asking for more will ensure another beating. The drugs are worth it, though. And besides, there’s no pain they don’t ease.

I dry swallow one of the pills and await the liftoff I crave. When it kicks in, each cell in my body will become weightless until I float above everything. I lie down, waiting for the release to set in. Just as I’m drifting toward peace, the bedroom door opens with a creak that tightens my stomach. I don’t bother opening my eyes. I know who’s stepping closer. I know who’s standing over me, probably looking down at me like I’m an inconvenient shit stain on the sole of his shoe.

“You look like shit,” he says as he rips off his grease-covered clothes.

I open my eyes as he tosses them at me, but I’m too far gone to catch them before they collide with my face. The powerful scent of sweat, gasoline, and oil suffocates me.

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