Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
"I didn't fucking do anything," he says.
"Right." I shove him up against the side of the house. "What's your name, asshole?"
"L-leo Gemini," he stutters.
If the name wasn't a dead giveaway that he's bullshitting me, the stutter is. He's lying out of his ass.
"You want to try that again?" I ask, holding my arm across the back of his neck to keep him still while I finish patting him down. I find his wallet in his back pocket. "Seriously, dude? You brought your fucking wallet to an attempted home invasion?"
"I wasn't trying to invade nothing," he says, still whiny and petulant.
"How about you stop bullshitting me, tell me who sent you, and save us both a little time?" I ask, smacking him on the back of the head hard enough to push his face into the side of the house.
"I don't know anything," he says, trying to yank out of my hold. That shit's not happening, though. He's maybe five-seven and one-forty on a good day. He's not going anywhere I don't want him to go. But I need to get him the fuck away from January's house before she hears him. That drama is the last thing I need to deal with right now.
I shove all of his shit into my pocket and then press my gun into his ribcage. He immediately goes still and whimpers. He knows what's up. He's probably been down this same damn road often enough to leave ruts.
"Here's how this is going to go," I growl in his ear. "You're going to walk real slow to the house next door. If you try to run, I shoot you. If you piss me off, I shoot you. If you don't stop whining, I shoot you. Got me?"
"W-who are you?" he asks me, his voice shaking with real fear now.
"Your worst fucking nightmare." I pop him in the back of the head once more—just a little love tap, really. "Now start stepping, or I will shoot you."
"Okay, man," he says and holds up his hands. Surprisingly, he's smart enough to realize I'm not fucking around with him. He just tried to break into January's house with a big-ass knife in his pocket. He'll be lucky if I don't kill him for that. All I need is a reason.
He doesn't give me one.
He shuffles toward the front of January's house before crossing into Ma Lucia's yard, his hands in the air the whole time. Once we're on the porch, I kick his feet out from underneath him, making him land hard on his ass on the worn wood. He cries out and then immediately clamps his jaws shut.
I keep my gun trained on him while I fumble with my keys and unlock the front door. Once it's open, I reach in to flip on the porch light and then curse loudly.
He looks about twelve or thirteen. Greasy blond hair hangs in tangles around a face his big, dopey ears don't fit. Genuine fear widens his blue eyes. Acne mars his sweaty face in bumps and scars. His nose is definitely broken. He's bleeding all over the place.
"How old are you?" I ask him.
"Seventeen."
"Jesus fucking Christ." I holster the gun before shoving a hand through my hair. "You realize I almost shot your stupid ass?" Reaching into my pocket, I grab the baggie of crack and hold it up. "And what the fuck is this shit? You're using at seventeen?"
"Man, I ain't using that shit," he says, his lip curling in disgust.
"You're dealing?" I cock a brow.
He shrugs, refusing to meet my gaze. That says all I need to know. I grew up in this neighborhood. I've spent my entire adult life dealing with gangs and their bullshit. I know exactly how the fuck they operate, pulling in kids too goddamn young to know better and involving them in heavy shit.
The only reason I managed to stay out of their hands growing up around here was by starting my own crew. I was fifteen. But we ran this neighborhood and kept drugs off our streets. Anyone who wanted in on that kind of shit wasn’t welcome in my MC.
"You running with Kaleo?" I lean up against the front of the house and cross my arms.
Curtis Kaleo was a pain in my ass back then, and he's turning out to be an even bigger one now. He thinks his crew runs these streets, but he's wrong. When I catch up to him, I'm going to correct his misconception.
If he's lucky, I might let him live again this time. If he's not, well, this city will have one less piece of shit to worry about.
The kid refuses to meet my gaze.
"Of course you are. Fuck. I'm guessing he sent you to January's tonight to try to scare her into leaving?" I don’t know why he wants this block so fucking badly, but it's not his for the taking. It wasn't his then. It isn't his now. So long as she wants it, I'll do whatever I have to do to ensure she gets to keep it.