Page 24

The man behind the counter is helping someone else, so I let my eyes wander while I wait.

It’s fairly quiet, with just a few other customers walking around.

There’s an older woman looking through a stack of records, and a couple of teenagers who must have skipped school messing around with an acoustic guitar.

A tall, skinny man leans over the glass case filled with jewelry.

I’m not sure what makes my attention linger on him at first. He looks like a biker and a junkie if I had to guess.

His skin is gaunt and his long hair falls in dirty, stringy strands over the shoulders of his leather jacket.

There’s a patch on the sleeve that looks familiar, but I can’t quite place it off the top of my head.

But whatever drew my attention to begin with is quickly replaced by an uneasy feeling when his eyes snap towards Sparrow.

I shift on my feet and drop my head a little, but keep my attention on him, watching him watch Sparrow without him noticing.

The man’s eyes narrow and he curls his fingers into a fist, slipping his other hand into his jacket pocket.

My heart beats faster and the sweat on my palms is no longer because I’m nervous about selling stolen watches.

Either Sparrow has no clue he’s being watched, or he’s extremely good at playing it cool. He wanders up and down the aisles, picking up random items and generally just keeping himself busy while he waits for me.

“Can I help you?” I startle and hurry forward.

“I want to pawn these.” I set the bag on the counter, keeping one eye on the other man while the employee dumps out my stuff and starts to sort through it.

The dude abandons the jewelry case and ambles in Sparrow’s direction in a way that might look casual if it weren’t for all the staring.

I bounce impatiently on my toes, but otherwise do my best to play it cool.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I thought Sparrow was coming to the apartment to kill me too, so clearly I have some trust issues.

It’s possible the junkie is just mistaking Sparrow for someone he knows, or having a weird trip and doesn’t even realize he’s staring.

“I can give you five-k for the lot.” The employee sounds bored.

I suck in a sharp breath and then cough when saliva goes down the wrong way.

“I’m sorry, how much?”

He scowls. “I can’t do any better than that. We’ve gotta turn a profit to stay in business, that’s how it works.”

I hold my hands up and shake my head. “No, uh, yeah that’s fine.”

My head spins from the amount of money he just offered me.

So much so that I completely forget about the creepy junkie while I fill out the paperwork and watch him count out the cash to hand over to me.

I stuff the bills into my bag, along with the small wad I already had there.

Sparrow meets me at the door and we head out again.

We’re halfway down the block when the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I glance over my shoulder and, sure enough, we seem to have picked up a new friend.

“Be cool, but I think someone’s following us,” I say as quietly as possible, even though I doubt the dude would be able to hear me over the sound of traffic anyway from where he is.

Sparrow tenses, reaching one hand into his jacket while subtly glancing over his shoulder.

“Motherfucker,” he mutters.

“Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly. He’s got a Sleepless Reapers patch though. Let’s just say I’ve developed a bit of a reputation with the motorcycle club.”

My muscles tense and I almost stumble over my next step.

My heartbeat skyrockets, and the adrenaline that spikes through my veins steels my spine and hardens everything inside of me.

The Sleepless Reapers are notorious for not only running meth, but for getting people hooked and turning them into club property.

What happens once someone is club property? I’d rather not think too hard about it.

“What kind of reputation?” I ask, matching Sparrow’s quickening pace.

“The ‘shoving my favorite dagger into their fucking jugulars and watching them bleed out’ kind of reputation.” His lips curl into a different kind of smile than I’ve seen so far.

It’s cold and disturbing. It’s exactly the kind of smile I’d expect the Ice Man’s lover to wear.

“Listen, I’m going to have to handle this.

There’s a burger place right up ahead, you can dip inside and I’ll circle back and meet you after I take care of this asshole. ”

Something tells me he doesn’t just mean he’s going to lose this dude.

I’ve gotten my knuckles bloody plenty of times—going feral, as Finn calls it—but I’ve never killed a man.

I’ve never seen a man killed. I should take Sparrow’s advice and let him do his thing.

He must know what he’s doing to talk about stabbing bikers in the jugular so casually.

It feels wrong to leave him alone though.

“No, I’m with you,” I say before I can talk myself out of it. “What’s the plan?”

“Yeah?” He reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together like we’re on a date. “Alright, follow my lead.”

In only a few more feet we reach an alley between two buildings.

Sparrow’s fingers tighten around mine and he yanks me off the sidewalk, into the alley.

I get ready to run, but he slows his pace instead, checking over his shoulder again and then leading me deeper, farther away from the bustle of the street.

It doesn’t take long before the crunch of gravel under boots echoes behind us, letting me know without looking that the junkie biker is still on our tail.

Sparrow leans closer to me, acting like he doesn’t notice the man.

“Sorry about this,” he whispers.

My heart jams into my throat and I open my mouth to ask what he means, but before I can, he pushes me up against the nearest wall and flattens himself against me. I try to push him back, but he just laughs and then brings his face close to mine like he’s going to kiss me.

“What the fuck—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, then lets out another laugh, this one clearly phony as hell. It’s the kind of fake giggle I recognize well; the kind I’ve used a million times to pretend I’m having a good time with a man.

Sparrow’s eyes are wide and alert, in contrast to his flirty body language as he nuzzles his nose against mine.

His jacket falls open and I notice the leather sheath strapped around his chest, and the hilt of the knife tucked inside.

I fucking knew he had to be armed. Points to me for good instincts, at least.

In a blink, the man is behind him, his lips pulled back in vile, yellowed smile as he hooks an arm around Sparrow’s throat and yanks him off of me.

“Got you, you little fucker.”

“Did you?” Sparrow chokes before slamming his elbow back to nail him right in the nose.

The man curses, blood exploding from his nose in a rush. But he doesn’t stumble back or let Sparrow go. If anything, he tightens his hold, hauling Sparrow back farther.

“That all you got?” He spits a mouthful of blood into the gravel by his boots.

“Fucking meth heads,” Sparrow growls, starting to thrash harder.

His jacket flaps open again, and when it’s clear that the dude is too tweaked to even feel the elbows and kicks Sparrow is throwing at him, I act on instinct. I jolt forward, wrap my fingers around the handle of the dagger, and yank it out of its sheath.

Tweaker is so focused on Sparrow that he doesn’t even seem to notice I’m here. Sparrow gasps and sinks his teeth into the asshole’s arm, but even that doesn’t dislodge him. He spins around and slams Sparrow into the opposite wall.

There isn’t a single thought in my head.

There’s no moral quandary or hesitation, only instinct.

I lunge forward and jam the blade into his back as hard as I can.

He yelps and Sparrow finally worms out of his hold, spinning on his heel and swinging his fist before the man even has a chance to work out that the tables have turned.

I tug the blade back out, which, for the record, is a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Blood gushes through the tattered fabric of his clothes and he stumbles again.

“Anders,” Sparrow says, holding up his hand.

I toss him the blade and he catches it with ease, like the weapon is an extension of himself. The second his fingers wrap around the hilt, that terrifying smile returns to his lips.

“Say hi to your biker besties for me. I hope they’re enjoying their stay in hell.” He swings the blade, cutting straight across the man’s throat like he’s slicing through butter.

For a single heartbeat nothing happens, like time is standing still. And then a spray of crimson jettisons from his throat and he keels forward, collapsing onto the gravel. I drag in gulping breaths and sag against the wall behind me.

I can’t tear my eyes away as he twitches once and then goes still, spilling a river of blood that’s going to leave a permanent dark stain.

I just helped kill a man.

And if Sparrow hadn’t been able to, I think I would have taken the final swing myself. If I hadn’t, he would have killed both of us. It’s not just a matter of survival though.

I stare at the patch on his jacket again and think about all the people he and his crew have hurt, tortured, watched overdose, and fuck knows what else.

Some people don’t deserve to be mourned.

Some people don’t deserve to share oxygen with the rest of us.

On some level, I’ve always believed that, but now I can feel it solidifying inside of me.

Some things aren’t black or white, good or bad, right or wrong.

Some things live in a gray area, and I think I’m okay with that.

“You okay?” Sparrow asks gently.

I tear my eyes away from the man’s unmoving body and nod. “I’m good.”

The crunch of fast footsteps makes us both tense again.

Sparrow holds his blade at the ready and bares his teeth.

The man who comes into view clearly isn’t another Reaper though, at least not a Sleepless one.

He’s wearing a dark suit and has a steely look in his ice blue eyes that softens as soon as his gaze lands on Sparrow.

“Fuck, Xav, you scared me.” Sparrow bends over and wipes the bloody blade off on the biker dude’s jeans, then stuffs it back into its sheath.

Xav, Xaviaro , the trigger man and right hand to Lorenzo Moretti, sweeps Sparrow off of his feet and kisses him soundly.

“What the hell happened here?” he asks gruffly.

Sparrow shrugs. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, obviously. Although, I’m glad you got here just in time for cleanup. I know that’s your favorite part.” He smirks and Xaviaro mutters something that makes him laugh. “Hey, wait, what are you doing here?”

Sparrow narrows his eyes and Xaviaro ducks his head. I would never admit it out loud because I value my life too much, but the Ice Man actually looks sheepish . Sparrow shoves his hands purposefully into his jacket pockets, and after a few seconds, pulls out little silver disk between two fingers.

“Dammit, Xav,” he growls. “I’m going to shove this stupid tracker up your ass.”

I slam my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh while Xaviaro kisses him again and waggles his eyebrows.

“Kinky.”

“I’ll give you kinky, you stalker,” Sparrow grumbles, kissing him back.

When the kiss deepens, I clear my throat, just in case they’ve forgotten I’m here. They break apart and both look over at me.

“Ah, shit,” Xav mutters. “I should get a hold of Luca. He’s going to be pissed that you’re mixed up in any of this .

” He waves his hand at the dead body, but then something else flickers through his eyes and he smiles.

“Hey, wait, Luca is just one of Sal’s soldiers, which means he’s basically my bitch.

” He chuckles and pulls out his phone. He presses a few buttons and then puts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Sal, I just sent you my location. Tell your nephew his boyfriend killed a dude and he needs to come clean it up.”

I open my mouth to protest that I only helped kill the guy, but Xaviaro just smirks.

I think I spoke too soon earlier when I said my life had gotten weird.