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I groan in frustration. “I don’t know him.”
“I doubt that will last long,” Brawler says, both eyes open now, his muscles tenser than I’ve ever seen. “But if I were you, I’d keep your distance. For as long as you can. Oscar was right when he said you have enemies now. Rocket’s enemies, the Crew’s enemies, they’re now your enemies. And some of them are scary as fuck. If Rocket likes you half as much as he’s making it out to be, you’re in trouble.”
“Likes me? He doesn’t know me.” I don’t hide the fact that I’m laughing about this. It’s just outrageous. “It’s lust more than anything.”
Brawler shakes his head. “Not in this world. Rocket knows three things: gang life, sluts, and possessions. Let’s just say he never asked anyone to look after Cherry, and you don’t fuck with another man’s possessions.”
“I’m no one’spossession.” I grit the word out like it’s venomous. It is. It means being trapped in a cage again, and I don’t want to go from one cage to another.
Brawler snickers. “Don’t get me wrong, he won’t think of you as a possession. He’ll think he’s doing right by you. He’ll think he’s giving you a world you never would have had. He’ll even think he loves you, but he doesn’t know how to love, Kyla. None of them do.”
I press my lips together at his words. He’s throwing everything in my court. He knows what he’s saying can get him into so much trouble, yet he’s saying it anyway. He’s trying to warn me off. He’s trying to help, but he has no idea I need to do the exact opposite of running away. “And what if I said I wanted to leave right now?”
Brawler pushes the footrest down and leans forward. His sapphire eyes shining brilliantly. “Do it. Do it now.” There’s so much feeling behind his words that goosebumps course down my body. I should be doing what he says. If I had any self-preservation at all, I’d grab my shit and leave. He’d let me. I know he would. He’d suffer for it, but he’d do that because he doesn’t want anyone getting mixed up with the Heights Crew who shouldn’t. I’m not going to flatter myself and think it’s all me. It’s not. It’s just that Brawler probably has the best sense of right and wrong than anyone in a three-mile radius. “This is the only chance I’m giving you, Kyla. If you wait any longer…” He sighs. “There’s more at stake. But the deeper you’re in, the harder it’ll be for you to get out. The harder it’ll be for me to help you get out. I have others I need to care for,” he almost whispers.
His openness guts me. It also makes me afraid for him. Someone like Brawler shouldn’t be caught up in all of this. “Are you going to join the Heights Crew one day?”
He shrugs. His eyes tell me he knows he already lost me. I won’t be leaving tonight, and the disappointment makes him lean back in the chair. “Maybe.”
His answer is guarded and closed off. Not that I can blame him. I just gave him the equivalent of a ‘fuck you.’
“You don’t have to stay with me,” I tell him. “I won’t say anything. You should go home to your mom.”
“I’m staying,” he says, voice firm. “We should get some sleep before tomorrow. I’m assuming Rocket said he wants to meet you after school?”
“He did.”
He looks me straight in the eye. “If you’re staying, you should do everything in your power to stay on Rocket’s good side.”
“So, meet him when he wants?”
“Among other things.”
It’s the “other things” that bother me. Just what am I going to be expected to do?
In my mind, I know it doesn’t matter. I came here with one goal, and I’ll do anything to make sure I get it done.
Even if that means crossing a line.
11
In the morning, I’m awakened by a quiet knock on my door. I immediately sit up, sheets twisting around my waist. As far as having a roommate, Brawler isn’t bad. I didn’t hear a peep out of him all night, which makes me wonder what’s going on now. I pull the sheet up over my chest. “Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
His question makes me smile. I doubt Rocket would be asking permission to walk into my bedroom. “Yes, I’m decent.”
He walks in, his massive body filling the doorframe and making me drool already, even this early in the morning. He has on a tight wife beater, perfectly displaying his tattoos and muscles, and in the early morning light, I notice some swelling and bruising around his eyes. Remnants of the fight he started last night.
I glance at my alarm clock. My eyes round. He’s woken me up an hour earlier than I usually get up for school.
He must read the look on my face because he says, “I’m going to train some. I thought you might want to join in.”
I suck in a breath, but I don’t want to give away how much of a big deal I think this really is. “Yeah. Yes, please,” I say. I pull the covers off me and stand.
Brawler’s gaze moves down me, his blue eyes blaze, and then he turns away. The draft on my legs tells me I’m not wearing any pants, just the underwear and a tank top I threw on before bed.
Oops.