Текст книги "Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood"

Автор книги: Meghan Quinn

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Seven

My present…

With slow deliverance, I turned around to find Lyla standing behind me, hand on one hip, wearing a pair of shorts cut high on her legs and plastered against her skin. Her shirt was cut short, so from my angle, looking up at her, I could see the underside of her breasts.

I wanted to cover her up so no one else could look at her, but another part of me wanted to rip her shirt off and fuck her right there on stage.

Images of her sultry body writhing beneath me played in my imagination. That one night with her was one I couldn’t get out of my head, I didn’t think I would ever get over the feeling of being buried deep inside of her.

“Hey, I asked you a question,” Lyla said sternly.

“Yeah, the lady asked you a question,” Diego encouraged with a smirk.

He was two seconds from getting a beat-down.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced at her and said, “Looking for some entertainment.” Even though I didn’t want to be sitting in Kitten’s Castle and shouldn’t have been pissing her off any more than I already had, I couldn’t help myself.

I was an asshole. It just came naturally.

Her green eyes flamed with rage. “You’re looking for entertainment?” Lyla asked, anger lacing her voice.

I nodded while looking around the room. Fuck, I wouldn’t let any of these women come near me. Most likely they had some kind of knarly undercarriage. Why Lyla thought she belonged here was something I would never understand.

“Fine,” she said and gestured to the DJ. The song switched immediately, and the steady beat of “Earned It” started to ring through the speakers. With the lift of her foot, Lyla pushed both Diego and Blane away, giving her plenty of space to work my lap.

Fuck me.

Slowly and methodically, she shifted around me, lightly brushing her hand against my skin, sending chills down my spine. Like second nature, my legs spread apart and my hands fell to my side. I bit my bottom lip as she stopped in front of me and started to move with the music while running her hands up her beautiful mocha-colored skin.

She was so fucking gorgeous with those piercing green eyes and soft features. The way her hair fell over her face was mesmerizing. The way she ran her hands over her body was hypnotizing, making me forget I was in the middle of a slummy strip club. Right now, it was just me and Lyla.

Right when I thought she was going to just stand in front of me the whole time, she stepped between my legs and bent over so I could see down her cropped shirt. The heaviness of her breasts peaked through and just like that, I was fucking gone.

Her hands found my thighs and her body made wave-like movements into mine, sending her vanilla-scented lotion into my nose, a smell I now associated with her. Her mouth grew close to my ear and with a light tug, she bit down on my earlobe while her hands ran up my chest.

With each beat of the music, she moved her body seductively. I was hard as a fucking rock from watching her.

Her hands travelled up my chest to my shoulders where she gripped tightly and pulled her body onto mine. Her ass rested on my lap and my head was inches from her breasts that were dangerously close to falling out of her shirt. Her hands wrapped around my neck as an anchor to her hold and her pelvis started to thrust into my lap with each beat of the song.

In fascination, I watched as her body rocked off of mine, how her stomach swayed with her movements, making me harder than I could possibly imagine. She was working me and I enjoyed every last minute of it.

The pressure of her ass on my crotch was almost painful, I was so hard, but I wasn’t about to stop her. My hands went to her thighs where I ran them up to her hips and to her toned stomach.

The intake of air from her chest was unmistakable as I ran my hands up farther where I stopped just before I reached her breasts. Fuck did I want to touch them. I wanted to feel her pebbled nipples between my fingers. I wanted to feel them on my tongue, but I knew my limits in public so I stopped.

Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back and her neck exposed. Her hips continued to roll on my lap, increasing the pressure on my cock, and her one hand that wasn’t wrapped around my neck was now snaking around my thigh.

She was eating me up and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

The pause of her rocks against my cock shook me out of my stupor as I tore my eyes away from our connection and looked up at her. She shifted off of my body, leaving me wanting more, but right when I thought she was going to leave me hard and aroused, she backed up against me and settled on my lap so her back was against my chest. Her right hand connected to the back of my neck and she started to dance to the music again.

I leaned my head over her shoulder and took in the movements of her body against mine. My hand went to her bare stomach where it slowly found its way up to the cut-off hem of her shirt. Her breathing grew heavy and my heart beat against my chest. One more inch and I would have her fully in my hand.

“Fuck,” I drew out, not being able to hold back the feel of her ass against my crotch. It was like fucking magic, rubbing against me, enticing me.

Unable to help it, my mouth found the dip of her neck where I started to nibble on her sweet skin. She tasted so fucking good.

 Diego and Blane cheered me on like barbarians, but I ignored them and continued to work my mouth up and down the column of her neck. Her hand found my cheek and she pushed me away slightly right before she bent down in front of me, placed her hands on my shoes, and started twerking my dick. Her shorts rode up and exposed her beautiful ass, allowing me to watch her sexy cheeks ride against my lap.

The image in front of me was too nostalgic, too fucking erotic for me to let go, to not teach her a lesson about what she was doing to me.

Not able to take it anymore, I grabbed her stomach and pulled her up. She squealed when I wrapped her against my back, but I ignored her shocked cries and turned her so I spoke directly into her ear.

“Take me somewhere private… now.”

The seriousness in my voice had her moving quickly off my lap and grabbing a hold of my hand. She led me away from a hooting and whistling Blane and Diego and directed me out of the humid air of the main room. I followed her down a dark hallway until she hit a door off to the side. She looked both ways and then pulled it open.

The room was dark when we first walked in, but she quickly turned on a light that cast a red glow in the room. It wasn’t very bright—it was actually more dull than anything—but it set the mood for what I was about to do to her.

Sin was about to take place. I just hoped she was ready for it.

The moment she turned to face me, I hauled her into my chest and then pushed her up against the door. I reached behind her and found the knob, which I quickly locked. I didn’t need any unexpected and uninvited guests barging in on us.

“Kace…,” she said breathlessly. “What are you doing?”

Not so tough now, I tried not to smile, but it was damn hard. “Do you think you can fucking ride me like that and get away with it?” I asked with my hands on either side of her head and my right leg inching her feet apart. “I want you to feel how hard I am.”

“I already know how hard you are.” She smirked, gaining some of her confidence back.

“Fucking feel me,” I gritted out. “Place your hand on my dick, and tell me how hard I am.”

Her eyes went wide for a second from the menacing tone in my voice, but she was quickly shaken from her thoughts as her hand traveled down my stomach to my waistband.

She started to feel me from the outside of my jeans, but I shook my head and said, “No, fucking feel me. Pull my cock out of my pants and feel it.”

Nodding, she undid my belt and went to work on the fly. I kept my hands trained to stay on the wall, encasing her head so I wouldn’t be tempted to help her. I wanted her to do it on her own, even though she was working at a snail’s pace, most likely on purpose.

“Take your time, babe. I have all fucking night.”

She visibly swallowed, boosting my confidence even higher.

Finally, she worked my jeans down, along with my briefs, allowing my cock to spring free. It was hard, so fucking hard that when she touched it with her fingers, it almost ached. I needed release, and I needed it badly.

“Tell me how fucking hard I am,” I demanded as I leaned over and spoke directly into her ear. In the dim red light, I saw the goosebumps that rose on her skin from my proximity.

“Kace,” she moaned.

“Tell me,” I gritted out.

“You’re so fucking hard,” she whimpered. Her deftly skilled hand ran up and down the length of my cock.

“You did that to me. Your fine-ass body, the way you pressed against me, the heat of your pussy on my lap—you made me this hard, Lyla, so tell me, what the fuck are you going to do about it?”

My mouth was against her ear as I spoke, and my chest was inches from hers, moving rapidly up and down. She pulled away to look me in the eyes, to see how serious I was. What I wanted to convey to her was I was beyond serious. I needed her, right here, right now.

“Well?”

Her hands dropped from my cock and captured my face with her hands. With brute sexual force, her lips landed on mine, causing me to push her harder into the door. Instantly my mouth opened to hers, granting her access to everything I had to offer.

Her tongue slipped in and out of my mouth, playing with my senses, lighting me on fire.

“Do you want me?” I asked, pulling away from her kiss and running my tongue along her neck.

“More than anything,” she confessed.

Pride beamed in my chest, and that was all it took. I was hanging myself over the edge for this moment and this moment alone. I just wanted one more taste of her.

My hands left the door behind her and found her hips. I pinned her against the hard wood and then ran my hands up her stomach, but this time, I didn’t stop below her shirt.  Instead, I connected with the underside of her exposed breasts and found her hard nipples. Her breasts were fucking praiseworthy. They were more than a handful and so fucking round and perfect I wondered if they were augmented in any way, but from the feel of them, I knew they were natural, making it that much harder to forget this gorgeous woman.

“God,” she cried as I gripped her breasts hard, playing with her nipples. I squeezed them, plucked them, rolled them until I didn’t think I could take the feeling of her breasts in my hands any longer.

My dick twitched as her body occasionally grazed it. I needed more. I was ready to explode. I was done teasing.

“Grab my wallet from my back pocket,” I said into the side of her neck. She listened well and did what was told. She didn’t even need to be directed further. She knew what to do. She opened my wallet and pulled out a condom.

Quickly, she put my wallet back in my pocket and pulled the condom out of its wrapper. Without asking, she sheathed my length in record time and then looked up at me.

“Take your sorry excuse for shorts off,” I demanded.

“Sorry excuse?” she asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Leaning forward, I said, “Do not fucking play with me. You know those shorts are too revealing. Now take them off.”

Without another word, she pushed them off and toed them away. Her bottom half was naked, only a pair of heels gracing her feet. I looked up at her shirt and with a shake of my head, pulled it up, exposing her breasts. My mouth quickly found her nipples and I sucked.

Her head flew back, hitting the door, but she didn’t mind as she pushed her chest further into my mouth. Slowly, I ran my hand down her stomach and hovered right over her pussy. She made little pelvic thrusts into my hand, letting me know exactly what she wanted.

Knowing I needed the same thing, I gave in to her demands and pressed my fingers inside her heated core. Instantly I was hit with how wet she was, for me. Heat blazed through me from the knowledge that I was able to turn on such a gorgeously beautiful woman like Lyla.

Not wanting to take my time anymore, I grabbed her thigh and wrapped it around my waist, lifted her, and then guided my dick inside her. One thrust was all it took. I was fully inserted. We both groaned at the same time from our connection. With the way her chest was moving at a rapid pace, I knew this wasn’t going to take long.

I grabbed hold of her face, looked her in the eyes, and then descended on her mouth once again. With each thrust of my hips, my kisses grew deeper. Her hands simultaneously ran through my hair, making me feel dizzy from the way her nails scraped against my scalp.

A heady combination of lust, yearning, and something deep I didn’t want to explore at the moment hit me, and it hit me fucking hard. My thrusts started to become uncontrollable, and her cries grew louder and louder with each passing connection.

“I’m going to come,” she announced just before she called out my name and bit my bottom lip with her teeth. I tasted blood as she came around my dick, but I didn’t care because at that moment, I went into a euphoric state of mind and came so fucking hard, I thought I was going to pass out.

“Fuck,” I mumbled. My forehead found her shoulder and my hips continued to thrust into her until there was nothing left in me.

Her hands found my neck again as she held on tight. Lightly, she kissed my cheek until I was able to regain my strength and pull far enough away to look her in the eyes.

The red glow of the light in the room made her look like a dream, like she wasn’t actually in my arms. Her eyes searched mine for answers I didn’t have, and right now, in this moment, I wished I had something intelligent to say, but nothing came to mind. All I wanted was to bury myself inside her once again, forget everything around us, and live in the moment with her, but I knew that wasn’t plausible. There was a world outside that door, waiting for us.

“Kace, why are you keeping us apart?” she asked in a small voice I’d never heard her use before.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I spoke softly.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, Lyla. You deserve more than me. You deserve more than this life you’ve chosen for yourself.”

“Sometimes you don’t choose your life, Kace. Sometimes it’s chosen for you.”

Fucking words of wisdom right there. I hadn’t chosen anything in my life. It had all been chosen for me, and because of someone else’s bad decisions, I was living the consequences. I refused to drag Lyla down that path, down the dark path of my fucked up life.

“Give me a chance, Kace.”

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I want to, Lyla. You have no fucking clue how much I want you, but I just… can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked, growing angry now.

I shook my head and pulled away, chucking the condom and zipping my pants up at the same time. I found Lyla’s shorts and handed them to her. She pulled on her shirt and put her shorts back on, as if she hadn’t just been fucked against the door.

I grabbed a hold of her neck and placed a kiss on her forehead. She closed her eyes from my touch and leaned into it. I held my lips on her forehead for longer than a couple seconds and then reluctantly pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Lyla. I can’t be the man you want.”

“How do you know what kind of man I want? You won’t even talk to me long enough to find out.”

“That’s because I know you deserve better.”

I had her step aside and unlocked the door for a quick escape. I was stepping out of the room when she called out, “You’re not the only one who’s fucked up around here, Kace. You’re not the only victim.”

Without turning around, I said, “That’s where you’re wrong. I am by no means a victim.  I’m actually the furthest thing from it.” With a heavy heart, I walked away. “Take care of yourself, Lyla.”

Chapter Eight

My past…

The cold glass of a tumbler full of whiskey cooled my fingers. I huddled in a corner of a lesser-known bar in the Quarter I felt wouldn’t be too populated by sports fans. News of my “steroid use” was starting to filter through all news sources, making it almost unbearable to be in my own skin.

My phone wouldn’t stop ringing with calls and texts from the press, from friends and adversaries, to the point that I couldn’t stomach the contact anymore, so I’d chucked the piece of shit against a wall and gone to the bar.

Five drinks in, and I could start to feel the pain that had been pounding in my chest start to dissipate.

Everything I’d worked for, everything I’d put forward to my career all gone in the matter of seconds because I’d trusted the wrong person, because I’d put my career in someone else’s hands.

I had nothing left to live for.

“You see that asshole who thought he could take steroids and get away with it?” a loudmouthed man said, sitting at the bar and talking to anyone who would listen to him. “I don’t get it. When are athletes going to realize they can’t get away with doing drugs? You would think they would have learned by now.”

Grinding my teeth to keep myself from lashing out, I attempted to tune out the man. He was right about athletes taking supplements to enhance their performance, but there were people like me who did everything right and still got fucked in the end.

I downed the rest of my glass, sat it at the end of the bar, and motioned for another. The bartender knew to keep them coming. I wasn’t going anywhere soon.

While I waited on my drink, I tugged on the brim of the hood that hid my features from the public. I didn’t need anyone recognizing me. I also enjoyed the blinders the hood gave me, like a damn mule in the Quarter, blocked from seeing anything around me, just the mission ahead, and my mission was to continuously bring the glass in front of me to my lips until I couldn’t feel anymore. I was almost there.

“Do you really think that’s going to help?” someone said behind me.

Jett. Without turning around, I said, “It’s been your go-to. Thought I would give it a try.”

Jett took the seat next to me without an invitation. He motioned to the bartender to bring him what I was drinking and positioned himself on his stool. He was going to be sorry to see I wasn’t drinking his precious bourbon.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, resting his arms on the bar.

“Does it look like I want to fucking talk about it?” I asked, trying to control the anger that wanted to seep out of me.

“For what it’s worth, I know you couldn’t do anything like that. There has to be an explanation.”

There was an explanation, but no one other than Jett Colby was going to believe me. “It doesn’t matter,” I answered while lowering my head. “It’s all over.”

Silence fell between us, and we both casually sipped our drinks, not engaging in conversation or any kind of emotional bullshit. That wasn’t how we rolled. We sat and we drank. It was the one thing I could count on when it came to my best friend.

Thankfully the bar I chose didn’t have any TVs in it. I knew what would be running on them right now.

“Kace Haywood: Positive for Human Growth Hormones.”

“Pumping Juice to Get Ahead, the Real Kace Haywood.”

“Haywood Hung on Hormones.”

Shaking my head, I pressed the glass tightly to my lips and sucked in its contents. I’d never felt so helpless before in my entire life. For once, I wasn’t in charge of my destiny. I wasn’t able to control my own future. The only control I possessed was how many times I brought a tumbler of pain-lessening liquid to my mouth.

“Want another?” Jett asked as I tossed back the rest of my drink.

“Yup,” I responded, directing the glass away from me and pushing myself up, trying to stretch out my back from the tension that was taking over.

I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows and adjusted my hood so it was more secure. The heat of the alcohol started to consume my body, but I wasn’t about to take off my sweatshirt. It was the only barrier I had from the real world.

“Can you believe this?” the rowdy guy from earlier said as he held his phone out to Jett. “Did you see this article? Local hero goes and fucks everything up because he’s too lazy to put in the real work to be the best.”

Jett nodded politely, because that was the way he’d been raised, and then turned away from the man. I sank farther into the corner, trying to separate myself from the loudmouth, trying to drown out his words.

“Fuck, I can take steroids and beat the shit out of people too. What makes a great boxer is talent. Muhammad Ali didn’t sit there injecting himself with growth hormones so he could win title after title. No, he spent hours upon hours in the gym, working on his craft.”

“Do you mind if we just sit here by ourselves?” Jett asked politely, holding his hand up to stop the man.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the man back off for a second and then nod at me. “Who’s that? Your boyfriend? If you fairies want some private time, go to a gay bar.”

Raising his voice and projecting his temper, Jett said, “I suggest you learn some decorum and shut your fucking mouth.”

“Oh, I get it, you motherfuckers really want some time together. That’s fine. Hey, buddy,” the guy called to me, but I didn’t move, not wanting to engage. “Hey, I’m talking to you,” the moron repeated.

“I suggest you drop it,” Jett warned.

Getting out of his chair, the man shot back, “You don’t fucking tell me what to do.” From my view, I could see that he was a broad man, slightly built, still had some fat on his bones, but he was one who could hold his own, and that was why he most likely felt confident enough to confront both of us.

The man brushed past Jett and pushed my shoulder. “Hey, dickhead. I’m talking to you.”

Not turning to face the man, I said over my shoulder, “I suggest you leave me the fuck alone.”

The bar was empty of witnesses besides the bartender, so the room was silent except for the faint sound of jazz spilling through the speakers. The bartender stood to the side, taking in the whole scene, probably wondering if he was going to have to intervene at some point.

“Oh, you think you’re a tough guy? You can’t even face me? You’re just hiding behind your stupid hood and cowering….”

Rage boiled inside me, and I flipped around, dropped my hood, and stood to my full height.

Immediate shock ran through his eyes as he recognized me. From the look in his eyes, fear passed through him for a brief second before he started laughing, full-on clutching-his-stomach laughing.

“Oh fuck, just my luck. The local hero right in front of me. Did you shoot up before you came here?” he asked, still hunched over and laughing.

“It would be in your best interests if you dropped everything and left this bar,” I threatened between clenched teeth.

“And what the fuck are you going to do if I don’t?” the man said, standing tall now and puffing his chest out.

I was drunk, I would admit that, but I still knew my left hook from my right uppercut, and the jackass was two seconds away from meeting both of them.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit that gives this city a bad name,” he said, pushing my shoulder again, making me wobble back into the bar.

The seven or so drinks I had consumed were now testing my balance, but I could still see the man clearly. He had jackass written over his forehead, and soon my fist would be replacing it.

Jett must have seen the way my hands itched at my side because he stood and urged a hand against the man to give us some distance.

“Step down,” Jett warned.

“Aw, your boyfriend is coming to your rescue. You know—” the man pressed a finger to his chin “—you actually did the sport a favor by juicing up. Now we don’t have to watch a gay fuck like yourself prance around the ring, itching to grab some opponent’s balls.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Jett spat, getting angry and in the man’s face. Jett didn’t take kindly to discrimination and neither did I, for that matter, especially since Jett’s assistant was gay and probably one of the most thoughtful and admirable people we knew. The dude would do anything for Jett or me, and we would do the same.

Not wanting Jett to get involved, since he had a reputation to uphold, I stepped in front of him and said, “Get out of here, Jett.”

“Kace, do not do something stupid,” he warned.

“I’m not going to—” My words were cut off by the blow the man’s fist made to my jaw. My head flew back as blood flung from my mouth, splattering on the wall behind me. I fell back onto my stool, my head resting against the wall. It took me a second to register what had just happened, but once I was able to collect my thoughts, the pain in my jaw struck me like a fucking high. I actually enjoyed it.

Jett was seconds from plowing into the man, but I stopped him, shaking my head in response to the impact of the man’s punch.

“Fucking fairy, you need those steroids. You’re a fucking lightweight.”

Jett’s fist raised, but I stopped him once again. I knew Jett could easily take down this guy because I’d taught him everything he knew. Jett wasn’t one to mess with, but this was my problem.

“I got this,” I said. Jett nodded and stepped away. He knew when I needed to take care of my own business.

I took off my jacket and handed it to Jett. My biceps flexed under the confines of my tight white shirt, and my forearms revved up, ready to do some damage. The same feeling that took me over in the ring took over my body now as adrenaline started to flow through my veins, replacing the alcohol I’d spent the last few hours consuming.

Pure fear flashed through the man’s eyes as he observed my stance.

That’s right, fuckhead. Don’t mess with me.

“Go ahead, take another shot.” I egged him on while spitting a mouthful of blood to the side. “I fucking dare you to engage me. You want to know what talent is? I will fucking hand it to you on a silver platter. Go ahead, fucking test me one more time.”

“You’re not worth it,” the man said, waving his hand at me and taking a step back.

“Yeah, who’s a fucking pussy now? You’re all talk and cheap shots, but when it comes down to it, you know I can fucking destroy you. I made a living dicking people around with my fists. I would be more than happy to show you how it’s done.”

“What living? You have nothing now because you’re the moron who decided to take steroids.”

Grinding my teeth, I counted to ten before I exploded. There was no point in defending myself against the steroid allegations. I would just look like a whiney-ass bitch, so I kept my mouth shut and tried to keep my fist from plowing through his face.

He’s not worth it, he’s not worth it, I kept saying to myself over and over again.

I opened my eyes in time to see his fist fly at me and connect with my gut. I buckled over and coughed up more blood from the first blow he’d made to my face.

Laughter from the idiot filled the small bar. I looked up to see the man holding his stomach and pointing at me.

“Ah fuck, this is the best night of my life. Boxer? Fuck, you’re nothing but a piece of trailer trash trying to imitate someone you will never be.”

Trailer trash… my fucking hot-button word. I snapped.

Straightening, I quickly stepped forward, cocked my arm back, and blew it through the man’s stomach. Not even giving him a chance to think, I threw a right uppercut, sending his head reeling upward, and then to finish him off, in rapid succession I connected my left fist to his temple and then did the same with my right.

It happened in a matter of seconds, white-hot rage flowing through me. For the first time since I’d gotten the call from my agent, I actually felt a little at ease. That was until I saw the man fall backward from my attack and land on the floor, motionless.

Oh fuck. 

Time stood still as I waited for the dickhead to move, sit up, and shake his head from the brief knockout. I stood above him, practically begging him to move, but he didn’t. Not one twitch, not one breath from his chest.

“Kace, Kace, we have got to fucking move,” Jett said, but all I could do was stare down at the lifeless man in front of me, the provoker, the antagonizer.

“The bartender called the fucking cops. We have to move.”

Nothing. I was completely void.

Everything around me faded but the man lying on the floor. “Is he….” I started to ask, but I couldn’t even say the words. Just thinking them had my stomach rolling.

“Kace, fucking move!” Jett shouted as he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back door.

The bartender blocked our escape. “I can’t let you leave,” the man said. “And even if you do leave, I will tell them it was Kace Haywood.”

Frustrated, Jett pulled out his wallet and grabbed a wad of hundreds from his billfold and shoved it at the man. “This is to keep your mouth shut until the morning. I will be back with more. The man who did this took off toward Royal Street. If you help us, I will help you. If you open your mouth, I will destroy you. Don’t forget who owns half this city.”

Jett knew when to pull his elite card, and right now, he used it well.

The bartender looked at the cash in his hands, then back at Jett, and nodded. “The man took off toward Royal Street.”

“And what did he look like?” Jett asked.

“Blonde, brown eyes I think, six foot with a beard. He was wearing a green shirt.” The bartender described the complete opposite of my brown hair, blue eyes, and scruffy jaw.

“Very good,” Jett said, patting the bartender on the arm. “I will meet you tomorrow at seven in the morning in front of the steamboat. Don’t be late.”

He stepped aside as sirens sounded in the small streets of the Quarter.

Jett grabbed my arm and dragged me through the back door where a car was waiting for us. He shoved me in the backseat and climbed in behind me.

Once again, Jett had my back. In the midst of staring at the blood on my hands, Jett constructed a cover-up and getaway.

“Go,” Jett said to the driver, who took off immediately, navigating through the one-way streets toward the Garden District where Jett lived.

My mind was numb. I looked down at my fists and realized the impact they really had, the brutal force they possessed.

“He provoked you,” Jett said, trying to ease the tension in the car.

“He’s dead,” I said, looking out the window, saying the words for the first time as realization set in.