Текст книги "Ex-Con: Bad Boy Romance"

Автор книги: Shiloh Walker

Соавторы: M. S. Parker
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 9

I hung up the phone and felt some of the knots in my gut unravel even as others started to tighten and tug.

It had taken three weeks, half the time it normally took, but Detoine had been able to push through the paperwork, approving my move from Kentucky to California.

“You keep your butt out of trouble, Bobby, okay? And drop me a line when you get a chance.”

Those had been his parting words.

Keep my butt out of trouble.

Yeah.

I was sure that would happen.

Now, I just had to pack up the pitiful little I owned – most of which was the clothing Carly bought for me – and then get to California.

First, I sent off a message to Ryan, letting him know the move had been approved. It was early there, so I didn’t want to call. Once that was done, I grabbed the larger of the two suitcases that had been delivered to my apartment two days ago.

I hadn’t ordered them. I couldn’t have afforded them even if I’d thought about ordering luggage. I’d planned to use the single duffel bag I usually used to cart my stuff around, and the rest I’d intended to just put in a garbage bag or box. I realized now how stupid that would’ve been, not to mention how it would’ve looked, showing up in California looking like some homeless asshole.

I was only halfway through packing the first suitcase when my phone rang. It was Ryan. He didn’t bother with any preliminaries. “I’ll have a car there at noon tomorrow. You’ll be ready to go by then, right?”

“Noon? What?” I straightened up and looked around me. It wasn’t like I had that much to pack. The few second-hand books I owned were already in the duffel bag I was going to carry on the plane with me. Beyond my books and clothes, there just wasn’t much else. I had a framed picture of my mom that would go in my carry-on because I didn’t trust airlines. Everything else that really mattered was either on my phone or in my wallet. That was it, but…noon tomorrow? That didn’t even give me twenty-four hours. Sure, I’d had three weeks to know this was coming, but a part of me had held back, always believing that things would fall through and I’d be stuck here.

“I want you out here. Out here and away from that dick.”

Somehow, I didn’t think he meant dick as in slang for detective.

Sighing, I looked around and then dropped down on the creaking excuse of a bed. “Yeah. I’m ready.” My gut tightened as I forced myself to ask the next question. “How’s Jake?”

“He’s...fine.” Ryan’s voice was carefully neutral.

I closed my eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Ryan’s sigh drifted across the phone. “He’s tired a lot. Hurts more than he wants us to know, but I see the signs. He’s managing.”

I’d done a bit of research on my own. Pancreatic cancer was the kind that hit hard and fast. After watching my mom suffer, I could see both the cruelty and the kindness of such a diagnosis. “How long will he keep working?”

“Until he can’t,” Ryan said simply. “Carly’s his world. She’s like a daughter to him, and the guys, we’re his family. You’ll see when you get here, kid.”

He hung up after a few more minutes, talking just long enough to give me the details I’d need for tomorrow. I committed them to memory instead of writing them down. I’d always relied more on my memory than on my ability to not lose a piece of paper.

Once I disconnected, I laid down and stared up at the ceiling for what I hoped would be the last time. I’d spent quite a few nights pondering that water-stained ceiling.

No more.

Not after tonight at least. I doubted I’d get much sleep. I would’ve been too keyed up even if I hadn’t been freaking out about flying for the first time.

I sat up after a few more minutes and ran through the instructions for tomorrow. They were sending a car. I’d go to the airport. The driver would direct me to the proper place and then...

“Goodbye, Kentucky.”

***

“How’d you do it, Cantrell?”

I froze mid-stride and turned my head.

I should have known I couldn’t escape without seeing him one more time. Dale Mitchell had parked his car in the rutted alley that served as a parking lot for the apartment building I used to call home.

The driver Ryan had sent waited by the SUV, and when I shot him a look, he started to come my way. I held up a hand and shook my head. He stopped, hands crossed in front of him. But he didn’t back off and he didn’t make any attempt to look like he wasn’t watching us both very carefully. I briefly wondered if Ryan had suspected this would happen.

I turned back to Dale, my face blank. “Detective.”

“I just can’t figure it out, Bobby. How in the hell do you do it? You got some of the finest cops I know fooled into thinking you’re not a waste of space. You had your warden fooled into supporting your release. And now, you wrapped that Hollywood chick right around your finger. Look at you. You landed yourself in quite the bed of roses, didn’t you?” A smirk crossed his face. “You must be really good at something she likes. I wonder what it might be.”

I wanted to hit him so hard it’d knock that smirk into next year and his ass into the next century.

Instead, I just shrugged. I couldn’t, however, resist a smart-ass comment. “Maybe she just likes my pretty face.”

“She likes something. There’s no denying that.” He came closer and nodded at the suitcase in my hand. “What’s in there, Bobby?”

“Clothes.”

“Drop it. I want to see.”

The driver again started toward me again. Shooting him a dark look, I said, “I got this. Stay out of it or I’ll call Ryan right now and tell him he can shove the job up his slick lawyer ass.”

When the man lifted his hands and backed away, I knew I’d guessed right. That wasn’t just some rent-a-driver from a car service. He was too watchful; too...on. If this wasn’t one of the crew, then I’d eat the damn suitcase in my hand. Looking back at Dale, I set the suitcase on the ground. I didn’t kneel down, though. Like a well-trained ex-con, I waited for further instruction.

A bit of a smug smile curled Dale’s lips, and his eyes gleamed with the light of what he saw as a victory. “Open it.”

Now, crouching down, I did just that, and then stood up, folding my arms over my chest.

“Turn around.”

I resisted the urge to say something ugly, but when I started to turn, I saw something that made me stop half-way. The driver hadn’t come any closer, but he had his phone out. I stared at him. “What are you doing?”

Dale looked up, slowly straightening from the semi-kneeling position he’d been dropping into as he caught sight of what the driver was doing.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, annoyance evident in his voice.

“Just trying to make sure there’s an objective record of what’s going on here, Detective. It’s for your benefit as much as it is for Mr. Cantrell’s.” He gave a slow, easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“There’s nothing going on here. Why don’t you put the phone away?” Dale’s voice was polite, but I could hear the edge underneath.

“If there’s nothing going on, then there’s no reason why I can’t record these events, is there?” the driver responded smoothly, the phone in his hand not wavering. “As I’m sure you are aware, Detective, it’s perfectly legal to record activities by the police in the state of Kentucky, providing I’m not interfering with your ability to carry out your job.”

Then he looked down, frowned a bit, and stepped so that he was standing by the trunk of the slick, shining Escalade that held my other suitcase and my duffel bag.

“Is this a reasonable enough distance, Detective?” The driver’s tone was polite, but cool.

“What’s your name?” Dale demanded.

“When you’re finished there, I’ll be happy to give you the name and number of my attorney as well as my card. I’ll be emailing him the file as soon as this is over.”

Five long seconds dragged out, and then Dale turned back to me. He glared at me as though imagining all the ways he’d like to tear me apart. I suspected blood, guts and dull, rusty objects were involved. Finally, he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you to turn your miserable ass around, Cantrell?”

Slowly, I did. I was facing the phone now, but I didn’t look at it. My face was burning with humiliation. As glad as I was to have things being recorded so Dale couldn’t do something like make me miss my plane, I was thoroughly disgusted with myself for needing it.

I held still as he dug through my clothes, and then I heard him moving around me and braced myself. The flat, hard glare he fired at me as he stepped in front of me yielded no response on my part.

“Get that shit up.” He practically spit the words at me. “Get out of this state. If you ever come back...”

He didn’t finish the sentence, just let it trail off. After one more hard glare, he turned around and strode off. I watched until he got back into his car, not trusting that this was over. If this was the last I ever saw of him, it was still too much.

Shoes scraped against busted concrete and I turned my head, watched as the driver slash whatever the hell he was moved back onto the pitted sidewalk.

“Is it safe to move yet?” he asked, a black eyebrow winging up as he tugged his sunglasses off and studied me with eyes the color of steel.

“You’re one of Ryan’s.” I made it a statement, not a question.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and then shrugged. “More or less. Jake’s the one in charge, but yeah, Ryan brought me in.” He stowed the phone back in his pocket. “So. Robert Cantrell.”

“Name’s Bobby,” I said, correcting him. “You?”

“Thomas Sinclair, but everybody calls me Ace.”

“And why’s that?”

The only response I got was a slight smile. Then he nodded at the suitcase. “You want to straighten that up or just deal with it later?”

I glanced down at the mess Dale had made of my suitcase, all the neatly folded clothes now twisted and tangled. I crouched down and just grabbed everything, throwing it back in. I was just glad it hadn’t been my bag with my books and my mom’s picture. I could only imagine the joy Dale would’ve taken in trashing that stuff.

Ace joined me. “That’s one pissed off cop, Bobby.”

“Yeah.” I had to force the zipper on the suitcase this time and Ace grabbed it, applying pressure with hands the size of dinner plates. The man was massive.

“He hate everybody or just you?”

I thought about it, then shrugged. “He hates me, probably dislikes anybody who doesn’t hate me. Other than that, I can’t say.”

“Why does he hate you?”

I looked up into Ace’s gray eyes. If Ryan hadn’t already told them, they’d figure it out sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. “I killed his brother.”

Ace regarded me with a cool gaze and then nodded once. “That’d do it.”

I stared at him as he picked up my suitcase and put it with the rest of my luggage. How in the world had I found these people who didn’t react normally when I told them who I was or what I’d done?

If life hadn’t taught me better already, I might’ve actually let myself feel hopeful about the future. All I let myself have though was the fact that I actually had a future that, at least for a while, didn’t involve me starving or freezing my ass off. That was enough.

Chapter 10

One month had made one hell of a difference in my life.

One month ago, I’d been jobless and freezing my ass off while I walked around in my home state of Kentucky. Now, I was standing outside in the warm, soft air of a California spring day, my head tipped back to take in the sun as my mind tried to process everything at once.

Carly lived in a house a little north of Los Angeles. Actually, the word house didn’t quite fit the building I was currently staring up at. Mansion was more accurate...maybe. It was more a modern-day version of a castle, fit for a modern-day version of a princess.

And here I was, expected to be one of her knights.

I heard somebody moving up behind me on the cobbled stone path, and I turned my head. Jake, clad in a polo and khaki shorts, came to a stop behind me. It was edging up on late afternoon, and while his clothes spoke of a man who looked ready to settle down and relax for the rest of the day, it was pretty clear that relaxation wasn’t something that was going to come to him any time soon. Fine lines of pain and strain stretched out from his eyes, and even though it had been less than a month since I’d last seen him, I could see he’d already lost weight.

“Am I going to sound rude if I tell you that you look like shit?” I asked, turning my head back to the small lake.

It was the focal point of what I guessed Carly considered her backyard. It was more like a small park, complete with several gardens, a running path, a swimming pool and an outdoor kitchen. I wondered if the lake was stocked. I hadn’t gone fishing in years.

“You might sound rude, but at least you’re honest.” His laugh was quick and easy. “I’ve got plenty of people telling me how good I look, how strong. They keep telling me I’m going to beat this.” His smile was fond, but sad. “Bunch of liars.”

“Truth is often very ugly.” I thought of my mother’s end. She’d asked me to be honest with her, even at the end.

“It makes them feel better to think I might get better, that I might pull through.” He paused. His voice was rougher when he spoke again. “Especially Carly.”

Neither of us spoke after that, not for several minutes. He was an easy guy to be quiet around, I thought. Easy and calming, kind of like standing there and staring out over the lake. I bet that was part of why he and Carly clicked so well. She needed that calming influence in her life, that steadying presence.

Now she was going to lose him.

“So what’s next?” I asked after a while. I bent down and grabbed a handful of the small, flat stones lining the edge of the path. Hurling one into the water, I counted three skips before it finally sank. “You got me out here. Now what?”

Jake glanced at the stones in my hand and then held out his own, palm up. I dropped a rock into it. He threw it into the water. Five skips.

“Not bad,” I said, looking over at him.

“I grew up in Montana. Dad had a ranch. Spent a lot of time skipping stones on our pond.” He accepted another stone as he considered my question. “What’s next is, we start getting you settled in and then up to speed. There’s a lot more to this job than what you did in Kentucky. You’ll be getting a hardcore crash course over the next couple weeks.” Then he grinned over at me. “Not to mention some other things we need to address.”

“Like what?”

He just shook his head. “Enjoy the night, Bobby. We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.”

That smirk of his should’ve warned me.

***

My internal clock was all out of whack, and while the clock on my nightstand might’ve said seven, my head and body thought it was eleven, so the good news was that I was already up.

The bad news was that I hadn’t slept worth shit.

Not surprising. Even before I’d gone to prison, I hadn’t slept well, and being there hadn’t done me any good. Plus there was the fact that this wasn’t anything like any other place I’d slept before. The soft bed back at the Seelbach didn’t have anything on this place.

And the bed wasn’t the only thing about this place that wasn’t usual for me. I had my own little cottage, set back on the far side of the lake, a few hundred yards from Carly’s place. They’d told me that five of the six-member team lived on the estate. The sixth member was married, so he worked two days on, two days off. He was the one who’d been away for his daughter’s birth when Carly had been in Louisville, and he didn’t take night shifts. I wouldn’t be taking them yet either. Once I was trained, I’d join in the rotation and take my turn bunking in the house at night.

But first...training and other prep.

The other prep?

I stared at the needle and shoved past the doctor. “No fucking way.”

“You’re getting a physical.” Ryan said as he and Ace blocked the door.

If I wasn’t mistaken, Ace looked like he was holding back a laugh. I glared at him.

“Fine. He can check my blood pressure. I’ll piss in a cup, the whole nine yards. I don’t need that fucking needle jabbed into my arm.” There was a reason I didn’t have any tattoos.

Ace looked over at Ryan. “I thought ex-cons were tougher than this.”

“Kiss my ass,” I suggested and tried to shove through them.

I was shoved back. Not too roughly, but not exactly gently either.

“Sit down,” Ryan said. Amusement lurked in his eyes, but he was nice enough not to outright laugh in my face. “Come on, it won’t take long.”

I was about ready to tell him to move, or I’d shove his teeth down his throat when I heard a woman’s voice. A voice I would’ve known anywhere.

“Hey, Ryan, have you...” Carly’s words trailed off, and I backed away as I caught sight of her coming up behind Ryan and Ace, going up on her toes to peer at me over their shoulders.

Now I really felt trapped.

“What’s up?” she asked.

Ryan studied me for a moment, and then stepped aside and let her enter. “Bobby’s getting his physical done for the insurance package and it seems he’s not that fond of needles.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I tried to ignore the doctor who was inching closer to me, cautious, but clearly determined. Sweat broke out across the nape of my neck and forehead. That needle. Aw, fuck...

I tensed. The bite of alcohol stung my nose and I flinched. My face was burning, but I couldn’t stop the involuntary reaction. I’d always hated needles, ever since I was a kid.

“Look at me.”

At the sound of Carly’s voice, I swallowed hard and tried to find the steel that had gotten me through nearly a decade behind bars. “You know, I had to have one of these things done after I got out. It’s only been a year. Why not just get those records?”

She smiled. “You only had the basics done, Bobby.” Her hands cupped my face. “Don’t look at the doctor. Don’t think about the needle. It’s going to be over with before you know it. Just don’t think about it.”

“Easier said than...” I hissed in a breath as I felt a pinch and started to jerk away, but Ryan and Ace were already there. The thought of having to be held down in front of any woman was humiliating, but having Carly see it happen would’ve been so much worse. I managed to keep myself still.

“See?” She flashed her dimples at me. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You’re not the one who got stuck with a giant-ass needle.” Still, I kept my eyes on hers and worked on breathing. Because I was so focused on that, I was only vaguely aware of what the doctor was saying. When Carly nodded at me, I nodded stupidly in response without even realizing what I was nodding about.

Then it happened.

Something wet swiped down my right arm. Alcohol. I tensed. They were going to stick me again. My eyes slid down to look.

“Hey, Bobby?”

Instinctively, I looked up as Carly leaned toward me.

“What do you think about my shirt?”

I blinked at her. Her shirt? Dropping my gaze to it, I found myself staring down at the swell of her breasts. Her shirt was just a tank top, worn over a sports bra. She’d been working out. I could smell the scent of sweat on her, warm and clean. I didn’t know why some women got freaked out by the idea of sweating. I found myself thinking about leaning in, licking right down...

Something jabbed me in the arm.

Again.

“Son of a bitch!” Shouting, I tried to jerk away.

Ryan and Ace grabbed my arm as Carly ducked away. It was over in less than ten seconds and I jumped up as soon as I was let go. I glared over at the nurse who was calmly disposing of the syringe. Ace coughed politely as he took a step back, but Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t even blink. The doctor was busy with the little vials of blood he’d collected.

“What the fuck was that shit!” I gestured at the doctor, ignoring the way Carly leaned up against a wall, her hands tucked behind her back. She looked on with wide-eyed interest. Without giving Ryan a chance to answer my rhetorical question, I directed my attention toward the doctor and nurse. “Aren’t y’all supposed to get my consent before you jab me with needles?”

“We did.” The nurse looked from me to Carly and Ryan, a slightly amused smile playing across her lips. “I asked if you had an allergies to vaccines and if you wanted to receive the tetanus shot. Your record indicated you hadn’t had one in well over a decade, so you’re certainly due. You nodded yes to indicate your agreement when I explained.”

My mouth fell open and I looked at her for a long moment before swinging my gaze over to Carly.

She shrugged. “You told her yes.”

“I nodded.” I scowled at her.

“That usually signifies yes.”

I couldn’t exactly argue without looking more stupid than I already felt.

I was a grown man. I’d done hard time. I’d done things that I wasn’t proud of. Things that would have made my mother roll over in her grave. There had been men in prison who’d backed up when they’d seen me coming, and plenty of men outside of prison who went out of their way to stay out of mine.

And I was scared shitless of needles.

“Y’all suck,” I said, moving to the door. “All y’all. You just suck.”

“Ahem.”

That came from the doctor.

I stopped.

“We’re not exactly...done.”

“I’m not getting jabbed with any more needles,” I bit off.

“No.”

Slowly, I turned my head and looked at him. He smiled, but I knew that sort of smile. It was the kind of smile that came with knowing what he said next wouldn’t be welcome.

“We’re done with that, but we have a bit more we need to talk about.”

***

Two hours later, I was locked up in the little house that was supposed to be my new home. Except if it had been my home, I’d have had liquor available. And I already would’ve been shit-faced drunk.

When the knock came, I ignored it.

It came again and I continued to ignore it.

After three minutes, it stopped and I closed my eyes.

But then I heard the door swinging open a few minutes later and I came off the chair, pressing my back against the wall as I circled around the edge of the room.

Old habits die hard and all that.

I caught a glimpse of him and bit back something ugly just as he came in through the doorway. As Ryan stood there with his back to me, I considered doing something really stupid. It’d be easy...

“If you’re going to do something, do it now.” His voice was level.

Running my tongue across my teeth, I thought about it for two more seconds, and then shrugged the idea off. Mad as I was, fighting was a bad idea. Even if it might feel good. I’d ended up caught up in the mess that was my life all because I’d realized just how good it felt to swing a few punches all those years ago.

Besides, Ryan didn’t deserve it.

“Get the fuck out of here, Ryan.”

I shouldered around him and threw myself back into the chair. It faced out over the wide, placid lake, reflecting the deepening blue of the coming twilight. If I stared at it long enough, hard enough, I could make myself forget what the doctor had made me remember. I could do it.

“Now why would I leave when I came all the way down here just to talk to you?” He took the chair in front of me and placed a bottle in front of me, then set two tumblers down next to the bottle. The green of the bottle glinted at me. He cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry. It’s not bourbon. But I imagine you’re a man who could appreciate a nice scotch.”

“How about I make you eat that nice scotch?”

“Tastes better if you drink it.” He shrugged and cracked the seal.

I watched him, rage bubbling inside me as he splashed some of the amber liquid into the two glasses. After nudging one my way, he sat back in the seat and lifted his own to his lips.

“Get. Out.” I enunciated each word clearly, hoping he’d take the point.

“Nobody else would understand what’s wrong,” he said, ignoring me yet again. “But I get it. It’s been a while, but I’ve been where you are.” He took a sip of his drink. “Well, I can’t say juvie is the same thing as prison, but neither of them are a walk in the park.”

He stretched out his legs and took another slow sip from his glass. Over the rim, he watched me, eyes glittering.

“You know, when I went in, I was about five-eight, skinny as a rail. Probably didn’t weigh one-twenty soaking wet. I thought I was a tough little shit.”

“Stop.” My gut started to twist. I knew where this was going, and it wasn’t any place good. “I don’t want to hear this.”

He kept going. “I didn’t know anything. I was there a week before I got jumped the first time. A couple of the guards got in there, stopped it before anything really bad happened. Ended up having to go to the hospital, overnight stay.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

In prison there were degrees of injury. Injuries that one could mostly ignore and walk off, injuries that required a day or two of medical care. I’d had more than a few trips to the infirmary myself.

“A few days went by and then the same kids got me again.” His voice was softer now. “Except no guards came. I couldn’t stop them.”

Shoving upright, I grabbed the scotch and moved away. I stopped once I reached the door that opened out to a small, private deck, but I didn’t go outside. I just stood there and said nothing. There were things I didn’t want to know, but at the same time, I knew what it was like to have something ugly inside, a poison. And I knew how horrible it was to have to share it. So how could I tell Ryan to shut up when I knew how hard it was for him to say it.

“During those six months, it happened two more times. Same kids each time. One ringleader. Would have happened a third time, but I’d gotten my hands on a shiv. When he came at me again, I...” His voice trailed off.

I looked over my shoulder at him.

He was staring outside too, but as he felt my gaze, he looked back at me. “They pressed charges, found me not guilty. Said it was self-defense. Bruises, broken bones...worse. All of it went back for months. But I’d killed a seventeen year-old boy.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked, my voice rough.

“You don’t need to say anything.” Ryan tossed back the rest of his whiskey and then refilled the glass. He started to put the bottle back down, then shrugged and tipped some more in. “But I knew what the doctor would ask. I was asked the same thing. And when you came out of there...shit, Bobby. I felt like I was looking at an older, meaner version of myself.”

“Fuck.” I looked down at the glass, staring into the pure amber of the liquor like I’d find all the answers I needed at the bottom.

That was a laugh. I didn’t even know what questions to ask.

Slowly, I brought the whiskey to my lips and took a sip. Then, without pause, I drained it. It slid down my throat like silken fire. I let the glass fall to the carpeted floor and stood there, staring up at the sky.

“I knew it was coming. The...hell. My boss, he told me it was coming. The day the trial closed, he said he’d have some friends visit me. I told him I’d be waiting. Happened the third night in. Big, mean mother-fucker. Took four of his friends to take me down.”

Taut silence stretched out. Outside, I could hear the call of birds and I wanted to just focus on them and ignore everything else.

Instead, I lowered my head and focused on Ryan.

“I spent a week in the infirmary. Hurt more than I ever had in my life.” Moving back to the chair, I lowered myself into it and stared at him, eye to eye. “The day after I got out, I let them know that they were all gonna die. They laughed. Everybody in the yard heard me and they laughed too.”

Ryan said nothing. He just waited for me to finish.

“They didn’t laugh long.” I shrugged and then sighed, slumping down in the chair and focusing on the ceiling. “You know how they ask you about your skills when you go in? Always been good with my hands. Not just at beating on people, but fixing stuff. Building shit. Got it from my dad, my mama used to say. His temper too, fuck me to hell. They put me to work in the kitchen. Bad idea. Especially seeing as how one of the men who’d jumped me was in there.”

It was a memory that was burned into my mind, mostly because it was the first time I’d killed a man in cold blood. Maybe it should’ve weighed heavier on my conscious.

It didn’t.

Not after what they’d done to me.

I looked up at Ryan. “You know how they say you gotta join a gang in prison? It’s mostly true. It didn’t take long for me to have a whole bunch of guys getting in my face, and the more I beat them down, the more they came after me. I went with the ones who told me they could help me get my own back from the son of a bitch who...”

I still couldn’t say it, so I just shrugged. I knew Ryan would understand though. He might’ve been in juvie instead of prison, but there was a common unspoken language.

“Anyway, I had what I needed in my cell that morning. Skinny little thing. Looked like somebody had broken the handle off an awl. I put it inside my waistband. I was still limping so it made it easy to hide it. He was busy adding water to the shit they called soup.” Half-lost in the memory, I twitched my shoulders out of reflex. “The cameras, they covered almost the entire room. One of the guys came up, stood between me and this piece of shit. He stood there, laughing at me. I remember that. Ain’t so fucking tough now, are ya, Bobby?”

For a moment, it was like I was back there again. Seeing him, hearing that obnoxious, nasal voice. I gave myself a mental shake and refocused my gaze on Ryan.

“I took that piece of steel and shoved it into his heart through his back. He crashed, straight down. A couple of the others had caused a...diversion. Picking a fight up front. The whole thing took all of fifteen seconds, and I was back at my station before the guards even noticed I’d moved. Took them almost a minute to realize this guy was dead on the floor.”

Ryan’s lids flickered.

“You want to fire me now?” I asked caustically. “After all, you took on a guy who you knew killed a man to protect his family. Not a cold-blooded murderer.”

“I don’t think the man we wanted changed.” Ryan stood, his gaze pensive. “I don’t buy into an eye for an eye. I think it breeds ugliness. But I also think there are some sickness that just can’t be cured. I don’t know the people who came after you, not by name. But I know their type. Some might call them animals, but that’s an insult to animals.” Ryan tossed back the rest of his whiskey and put the glass down with the decisive clink.