Page 4 of Convict's Game

My need to run was no more. I was finally leaving. I wasn’t alone after all.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I just want to go.”

Dixie smiled. “Then it’s settled. Damn, Convict. Risen from the dead. I’m going to start calling you a saint.”

Everything moved so quickly my messed-up head spun.

Despite her words, my nurse had clear relief in her eye when I took the offered meds bag and walked away. A gangster was aliability to the hospital. No matter their protests, I was better off gone.

Then we were out into the night.

Rain drenched my face. The air bit into me. After fuck knows how long, I threw my head back and let the city embrace me.

A man had joined us—Manny, the security chief for the skeleton crew who was there to escort Dixie. I knew him on sight. He guided us to a huge black car, muttering to himself about how Shade was going to shit a brick.

Shade. Another rush of relief nearly floored me. Shade was my friend? Or boss? Maybe both. Someone I cared about for sure.

We slid through Deadwater’s mean streets in Manny’s bulletproof ride, the city lights strobing over me. Exhaustion clawed at my senses, and the windscreen wipers and engine hum lulled me to rest. I fought it. Couldn’t close my eyes. Not now I had friends again, and familiar faces after weeks of nothing.

I’d been in a coma so hadn’t noticed how winter was giving way to spring. The weather didn’t deter the crowd that formed outside a huge red-brick warehouse by the river, bright neon lights on the signs that read DIVIDE and DIVINE. The headquarters of the skeleton crew. A nightclub on one side and a strip club and brothel on the other.

Home.

I swung my crutches out of the car and gazed up at the building, music thumping from one of the clubs. ‘Circus Psycho’ by Diggy Graves.

A swell of emotion threatened my hardman exterior.

I knew every brick. I’d worked and played here. We got up to all kinds of twisted fun and games. A whole lot of sex.

I had no idea who the fuck I was, but I belonged in this hotbed of sin.

Across the car park, a crew member with a skeleton print black bandanna held open a staff door. He lifted his chin at my approach, Dixie and Manny either side of me.

“Good to see you again, Convict. Been a long time, and we all thought… Doesn’t matter. You’re back.”

“Thanks, man.” I slapped his hand.

Manny powered on ahead to get the next door, and Dixie leaned in once we’d passed the unknown crew member.

“That was Mick. You weren’t close but you liked him.”

I slid her a glance, but there was no judgement in her eyes. She knew.

“You’ve been out of it a long time, and hospitals make you delulu with lack of sleep. Ask me how I know. That nurse said it could take a while to be back on your feet for more than just standing.” She gently nudged me with her shoulder.

I found my voice. “What happened to your throat? Were you hurt when I was?”

Dixie’s smile dimmed. She touched the white bandage and swallowed. “Separate incidents, and nothing I want to talk about, hun.”

“Got it. Consider me shut up.”

“After your return to the land of the living? A whole lotta folk are going to want the opposite, saint.”

Deeper inside the warehouse’s interior, people stared at me with open surprise. A half-naked dancer sticking jewels on her nipples gaped then hurried back into what appeared to be a changing room, whispers following.

I frowned inwardly. Her heavy, round tits had bounced as she’d moved. That was hot as fuck. But my dick? Not interested.

We arrived at an office, and a man swung out of the room with shock in his eyes. At about my age of twenty-eight, he had endless tattoos, piercing blue eyes, and black hair. Better still, I knew him, just like I had Dixie. Two for two.