Page 13

ARSENI

M y front door is open when I get home.

That isn’t necessarily unusual. Sometimes Fox goes overboard with the weed, so it’s good to let a little air in every now and again. But I don’t see either of their bikes parked along the street, and it’s noon on Thanksgiving. They’re family people. They wouldn’t be here.

I step out of my car and pull my knife from my pocket while walking toward the door. It’s splintered like somebody kicked it open.

A whack makes me flick the knife open, but it’s only the neighbor kid. He’s beating a stick on the house to get my attention but stops when I lock eyes with him. I press my finger to my lips before continuing on, hairs raised on the back of my neck.

“Police, hands up!”

What the fuck?

Turning, I face a uniformed officer with his gun drawn. He doesn’t point it at me, but he holds it ready with both hands. His face, hard with suspicion, relaxes when I seem to register. “Arseni?”

I squint at the man in confusion until I recognize the face beneath a blond beard that looks way too aged for my old friend.

“Hudson?”

His face breaks into a grin, and he chuckles while letting the gun hang at his side. “Holy shit, man. Do you live here?”

I look between him and my front door. He pulls ahead of me, his gun at the ready again as he steps onto the porch.

“You know what, keep quiet if you don’t. Pretend I never saw you.” He pushes the door open with his gun and creeps inside. I follow him.

My first reaction when I make out the destroyed living room is surprise. Quickly, it turns to anger.

“What the fuck ?”

Stepping over loose stuffing spilled from the ripped couch, Hudson observes the smashed TV and tipped-over fridge.

He looks back at me. “How many rooms?”

I just blink at him. I have no idea what’s going on, but the idea of me speaking to a police officer feels surreal.

When I don’t answer, Hudson disappears down the hallway, announcing himself before he checks each room. I follow him to my bedroom where he finally puts his gun away. My lungs stop at the sight of Roscoe lying on his side among my wrecked things.

I rush to him and drop to my knees. He whimpers when I rub his head and carefully turn him over.

“Shit… What happened, boy?” I ask, searching him for injury.

“Is he yours?” When I turn, Hudson’s gun is put away, and he’s frowning.

I face Roscoe and pet him gently. His eyes are closed, his tail still. “Who the fuck did this?” I ask under my breath, my eyes wide with shock. I’m not speaking to Hudson, but he answers anyway.

“We got a call about a break in. Your neighbor saw a man in a black mask leaving through the backyard.”

“The kid?” I ask, breathless.

“You think a kid did this?”

“No…” I close my eyes and try to collect myself. “Did a kid call it in?”

“I don’t have a clue, man. I just get told by dispatch where to go… Look, I have a buddy who’s a vet. I’m gonna call him up.”

Hudson leaves the room and returns a minute later, claiming the vet is on his way. Roscoe looks so sick, I’m not sure it’ll make a difference.

“Thanks,” I say, stroking my friend. His belly barely moves as he breathes.

When the vet gets here, I carry Roscoe to the living room where Hudson has cleared a space in the wreckage. The guy’s name is Steve, and after five minutes of checking Roscoe out, he concludes he ate poison. The fact that he’s conscious is a good sign he’ll be okay.

After loading Roscoe into Steve’s car, he speeds away to his clinic.

“Fuck,” Hudson says, sighing as he rubs the back of his neck. “What a reunion, huh?”

I don’t answer. My shoulders squared and jaw clenched, I start toward the neighbor kid. I must look pissed because he jumps up and runs inside, but I have no intention of letting him get away.

“Stop!” Hudson takes my arm and jerks me back. I swing to glare at him.

“Get your fucking hands off me before I start crying police brutality.” I wave toward his car. “Matter of fact, get the fuck out of here altogether. I’m not pressing charges.”

“What?” he asks, his nose scrunching. “Arseni, the guy almost killed your dog.”

“It’s my roommate’s dog. He probably left rat poison out. Now excuse me.” I turn to walk away, but Hudson follows.

“You don’t want to deal with the police, that’s fine, man. But shit, let me help you as a friend. I’m wearing a uniform. Those people are going to listen to me before they listen to you.”

“I have my ways.”

“What are you going to do, threaten the kid?”

That has me pausing.

No. No, of course not. The kid likes me. We have a thing going. He’ll tell me what he saw.

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth while I stare at the front door of the squatter house. He bolted in there to get away from me. I barge in, every ounce of trust we’ve built is shattered, and I give him nightmares for a week.

“Come on, Ars.” Hudson lightly tugs my shoulder. “Let’s go back inside. We’ll take a second to breathe, then you can do whatever you gotta do.”

“Are you condoning violence, Officer Hudson?”

He’s quiet for a second, but then he laughs. “That’s the gig, isn’t it?”

Passing by me, he gives me a wink before heading inside.

Of all the people from my childhood, the kid who broke into Ms. Thornberry’s house just to piss in her potted plants would be the one to become a cop. Shaking my head, I go inside after him. He’s sitting on the floor, his feet stretched out, his back against the wall, beer in hand.

He takes a swig when I sit beside him. When he hands me another beer, I take it and twist off the cap.

“Just how crooked are you?” I ask.

He turns to give me a curious look. “What makes you think I’m crooked?”

I gesture to the beer. “You’re a little lax with the rules, don’t you think?”

He laughs and takes another swig. “Yeah, well, not everything changes.”

In spite of my anger, I find my lips twitching. I fan my hand over him. “How the hell did this happen?”

He shrugs, the stupid grin I remember so well plastered on his face. “Met a girl who digs power.”

“You’re telling me you sold out just to get laid?”

He rests his blond head against the wall. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Ars… I’d put a bullet in you right now if it meant I’d get laid.”

I laugh, my hands sliding down my face as I bring my knees in. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, well, good to see you too. Thanks for the warm welcome, by the way.”

I turn toward him, my head shaking in light disbelief. “How long has it been?”

He takes another drink and stares at the ceiling while he thinks about it. “I was at Saint Francis, and you were at a…” He snaps his fingers while he thinks, but I already know. My memory comes flooding back. “That hot bitch’s house. What was her name?”

“Margot.”

“ Margot , yeah.” His lips purse. “She was fine as hell.”

“Still is.”

He chuckles and rolls his head toward me with his brow furrowed. “What, did she adopt you?”

Jesus, that would be awkward.

I shake my head. “I saw her out about a year ago.”

“Did she remember you?”

I think back to the other night, her face sinking with recognition.

“Yup. We didn’t talk much, though.”

When static comes over his radio, he shuts it off.

I look around my living room at the mess but feel oddly satisfied by his reply. Part of me thought he was going to try to talk me into filing a report. As if I’d ever be okay with the police making my place a crime scene. Hell, I’d get whacked just for thinking of working with the pigs.

Hudson is … different, though. I actually think he might be a good fit for our payroll.

“So where have you been all this time?” he asks. “I haven’t heard from you since you were with the cougar.”

My ears start to heat, but I keep my face neutral.

Hudson knows about shitty foster homes as much as I do.

We grew up together, crossing through the same group homes with such rapidity we made a game of who could ‘make it to x place’ faster.

He wasn’t wanted. I wasn’t wanted. It kept us tight. Bonded .

I smile bitterly. It feels disgustingly ironic that I have more in common with the cop sitting next to me than I do with my own best friend.

Enemy . Luka is an enemy now.

“They stuck me with a real tyrant after Margot. I didn’t have access to any form of communication until I got emancipated.”

“Ah.” He nods like he understands. Because he does understand. I sigh, but it isn’t from some shitty memory. It’s from the pure relief of speaking to someone from my world. It’s been so long, I didn’t realize I missed it.

I’ve been in Luka’s world. With his people. Speaking his language. Doing his bidding. I never thought I’d want out of the Bratva, and I don’t. But it does feel nice existing outside of it for a minute.

“Then I just lived on the streets for a bit. Got involved with some shady people. You know how it goes.”

“Yep.” He nods. “Happens to all of us, man. None of our hands are clean.” He bumps my shoulder. “Good for you for climbing out of it.”

I look around and laugh. “This is what you call out of it ?”

He shrugs but grins. “I mean, it’s got a roof, right?”

I drink my beer. Nikita’s words from yesterday enter my mind, the derision he felt from where I’m living evident.

In truth, I could get a nice place. I don’t need roommates or secondhand furniture.

But I don’t know how I could ever be comfortable with any other lifestyle. Nikita’s mansion isn’t my thing.

“What about you, Suds?”

He groans. “Nobody has called me that shit in years. Don’t start now.”

My chest rumbles with a chuckle. I can relate to hating a nickname, but Hudson’s is almost as pathetic as mine. He got his mouth washed out with soap after Mr. Carlton caught him kissing his dog’s ass on a dare.

“I was at the group home until emancipation, and after that, I couch surfed for a couple of years. Got lucky and only spent a few nights sleeping on Broadway. You know the old theatre that?—”

“Yup.”

I remember it well. It’s an alley where many newbies sleep. The lady who owns the theatre next to it hands out bowls of soup a couple nights a week.

“Yeah, well, anyway, I was kidding about the chasing tail thing. Mostly. I had a… I guess you could say a mentor who helped me join the force. You don’t have to go to college to become a cop, you know?”

I nod. “I get it.”

He huffs a laugh. “No, you don’t.”

I smile. “No. No, I do not.”

He elbows my arm to give me shit, but then turns the radio back on. A voice comes on mid-sentence saying some police jargon Hudson ignores as soon as he registers it isn’t for him. Still, it’s time to go.

He holds out his hand. “It was good to see you, man… And hey, happy Thanksgiving.”

I take his hand and shake. “Yeah, you too.”

“Now we can say we didn’t spend it alone.” He winks as he stands.

I don’t respond. The holidays don’t even occur to me most of the time, but the only tolerable Hallmark days are the ones I share with no one. Familial cheer is not something I choose to be around. I’m pretty certain Hudson would understand.

He pulls a wallet from his back pocket. “Don’t give anyone too hard of a time, all right? If you need help, call me.” He tries to hand me his card, but I just stare at it. “Fine, don’t ask for my help, but take my number anyway, you prick. I’d like to have a beer more than once every five years.”

I take the card and rest it on my lap.

When he’s at the door, he hesitates and gives me an awkward, pitiful look. “Steve’s the best vet in town… Your dog’s gonna be fine.”

I lift a hand in a little wave and watch him walk out. Once he’s gone, I face forward and take another drink.

As soon as I’m finished with my beer, I’ll call my roommates, see whose fault this is. I can’t think of anyone who’d want to trash the place because of me, so one of those degenerates had to have caused this. Fox is going to be livid when he finds out what the bastard did to Roscoe.

Whoever the son of a bitch is, we’ll find him before the night is over.