Page 5 of Kill Shot

The bus neared the stop that Caroline had shown him through her window. Seb tried very hard not to jump when someone sneezed a few rows behind him.

These people aren’t dangerous , he told himself. In fact, he reasoned that it was his own fault for being so paranoid.

Still, that did not do much for his nerves.

And then, at last, he was getting off the bus, just across the street from the tenement housing. All he had to do was cross the street, go up the stairs, and knock on the door.

So simple, yet everything looked so alien and different at night. He’d never left later than sunset, and there was no orange-pink gleam covering the thick brick buildings anymore. Now, there were just too few streetlights and entirely too many shadows.

He barely noticed the bus leaving until it was too late, and then he was all alone. There was no turning back now.

There was no other traffic, so that was one small mercy. Huddling his shoulders for warmth, Seb looked both ways and darted across the road, making a beeline for the darkened stairwell that led to Caroline’s.

“Uh oh, I think that’s jaywalking!” a voice called out, cackling like a hyena.

Seb prayed that they were harassing someone else, but there was nobody in sight. At least, there wasn’t right up until three men stepped out of a shadowy alley beside Caroline’s stairwell.

He was too far across the street to do anything but blunder onward, hoping that he could talk his way out of what was surely, hopefully, maybe just a misunderstanding or a case of mistaken identity.

Such was Seb’s naivete that he didn’t even consider turning and sprinting or screaming for help. Instead, he just pasted a sickly grin on his face and tried to show that he didn’t have anything in his hands.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” he called out, his voice only cracking a little bit.

Their snickering laughter told him everything he needed to know about their intentions.

“I’m actually just trying to go up there to visit my grandma,” Seb said, finally getting close enough to get a good look at the three guys who looked a few years older than him.

They were hardened, leering men, looking him up and down with a sense of mockery that he recognized all too well.

It was the same way that the more unsavory of his father’s friends liked to snipe at one another.

It was the same way that their children made cutting, backhanded insults to one another.

Rich or poor, trust fund kids or boys on the streets looking for an easy mark, the need to feel superior was universal.

But such revelations were of no value to Seb at the moment.

“Can I… can I help you guys?” he asked, wincing internally at the slight tremble in his voice.

“What do you think, boys? Can he help us?” the largest of the three asked. He couldn’t have been much older than Seb, but the difference in size and bulk was astonishing.

“Hm, I think he can.” The second rubbed his chin in mock thought.

“Help make us a little money, more like,” the third added, looking between his other two friends as if waiting for them to laugh. When neither did, he just awkwardly coughed, then grabbed Seb by the collar and held him tight.

“C-come on, do I look like I have money?” Seb stuttered. There was no way they had recognized him, right? He’d even foregone his evening hair routine to make it look a little less styled.

“No, but you sure as shit sound like it,” the leader said as he circled around Seb. “Only rich boys talk like you. Bet you’ve got all sorts of money on you. Maybe a nice phone we could sell.”

Seb yelped the moment that he felt a groping hand on his ass. It was patting him down, searching for pockets and whatever he might be hiding, but that didn’t make it any less horrifying.

“I told you, I don’t have any—”

“Shut the fuck up,” the third sneered, getting in close and poking Seb with something long and hard. He desperately hoped that it was just a finger.

“Wait, hold on,” the second said in a loud, panicked whisper, and that was enough to make Seb close his eyes. He knew that he was about to die. They were about to stab him or shoot him, and the fact that one of them seemed against it didn’t do much to assuage his fear.

“What the hell are you—”

The leader got no further than that when a sudden hush fell over the group at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Now what do we have here?” a bored voice asked, commanding and dangerous in a way that instantly made Seb straighten to attention. It was a tone that he recognized instantly. It was the way his bodyguards spoke to him when there was mortal danger and he needed to do exactly as they said.

He cracked one eye open and saw that another man had just descended the stairs leading up to Caroline’s place.

This newcomer seemed much older than everyone else present, and it was evident in every little way he moved.

He was like a predator, sizing up all three of the kids—because they really were children compared to this dangerous, imposing man—and deciding that none of them were worth his caution.

Even in a black long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his muscles and dark jeans, Seb could see the trail of tattoos curling up the man’s neck and peeking from beneath his sleeves.

He stood tall, easily six-two or six-three, with a presence that made Seb feel the difference in their height.

He wore his hair tied in a bun, the sides cleanly faded and sharp.

His eyes flicked over Seb for just a fraction of a moment, but that was long enough for those black, penetrating eyes to burn right through to the very center of who Seb was.

It was like the man had already uncovered all his deepest secrets.

Hell, he’d probably already figured out exactly how Seb had snuck out of his house and why he was here at this hour, getting accosted by a small-time gang.

“I asked a question,” he said softly, but there was a thread of steel to his voice that made Seb want to spill his guts even though it would probably get him stabbed and/or shot in an instant.

“N-nothing, we’re just having a chat with a friend,” the second said, but he was quickly interrupted by the hotheaded third.

“What the fuck’s it to you? Keep walking, mind your business.”

The newcomer strolled on over, completely unconcerned with the fact that he was sorely outnumbered.

Seb dared a glance down and saw that the sharp object poking into him was not a finger, but the cold, hard barrel of a handgun.

“Really? Friends? I’d hate to see how you chat with your enemies.”

The man came to a stop, casually putting one hand on his hip, but every pair of eyes was on how that revealed the holster strapped there.

“Why don’t you scurry on home, boys?” he said, locking stares with each of the thugs until they stared back at him. He had the situation completely under control, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind as to who would come out on top if there was a fight.

Seb was in awe.