Drift (Don’t… #8)

Chapter 27 212 CROMER ROAD

“Drift—hey, Drift. Get up.”

Giving a groan and cuddling in close to a warm, slim body and mass of soft hair he didn’t want pulling away from, Drift tried to pull the sleeping bag up over his head. “Fuck off.”

A body slammed on top of his the next moment, and—

“Ugh.” Drift had the wind knocked out of him.

“Get up.” Brighty shook him awake and grinned down at him. “Uverwise I’m tellin’ on ya sleeping with Westie here.” A glance went to the mass of red hair, but Drift was more taken with the offer of milk white shoulder, how the strap to West’s slip top had slipped, exposing all the toned suppleness.

Brighty grinned back down at him, waggling his eyebrows, and Drift shoved him off, sending him under West’s bed. As Drift ran a hand through his hair, shuffling came from underneath the bed. A pull at a zip.

“Hey, you—” Tugging up the bottom sheet, he pulled his rucksack off Brighty, catching him with his hand in his side pocket. “You bloody little ratass thief.”

“Well duh.” Brighty sniffed away how his nose ran, then wiped at it. “Give us somefink sweet, I won’t grass on ya for being in bed with my Westie.”

“Sweet?” Drift dragged him out from under the bed, feet first, then tugged off one of Brighty’s socks… two.

“Hey.” Laughing, Brighty tried to catch hold of them, just before Drift tossed the socks back at him.

“There you go,” said Drift. “There’s your pride back, now fuck off and keep your mouth shut before I tell Jackson you were sloppy enough to lose your boxers too.”

A chuckle came from under the sleeping bag, and—

“Westie.” Brighty started to scramble up the covers, lips puckering up for a kiss, but Drift shoved him off. “Hey, I was just saying mornin’.”

“Mornin, nosewipe.” West raised up on her elbows and yawned his way. “And tell Jackson anything ’bout me being under the covers with Drift, I’ll put you on toilet duty for a month— after Leon’s been in there.”

“Fuck no. His turds are bigger than me.” Brighty was suddenly off and legging it to the door. West turned her head to watch him go, and Drift eased the strap up on her slip top when it shifted, almost revealing more than she’d be comfortable with. A soft smile came his way, and Drift let his touch fall as he buried heat in his cheeks.

“It’s Jackson who wants you up anyway.” Brighty grinned around the door. “He was in here earlier.”

“Fuck.” Drift scrambled out from under the covers himself as if Jackson still lurked.

Giving a sigh, West tossed back the sleeping bag, looking as resigned as Drift felt about needing to get up.

“Just Drift,” said Brighty, losing his smile. “Not you, Westie.”

West flicked Drift a look, and Drift nodded as he dug his hands in his back pocket. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Tell him I’m just washing up.”

“Will do.” Brighty disappeared as Staffs from the next bed down covered her head and groaned.

“Too early for this shit, West. Give me a break, yeah?”

Drift winced as West tossed a pillow at Staffs and gave her the V. As West settled back in the sleeping bag, he headed on through to the shared bathroom. This one took care of twenty-eight kids all under the age of twenty, so finding it empty was… ball-saving. He took time scrubbing the colour out of his hair and getting rid of the tattoos to his arms before heading out.

On the next floor down, the alarm clock in Jackson’s bedroom called out too damn early at 5:30 a.m., and as Drift made it down to the ground floor, only the shirt on Jackson’s back as he sat at the kitchen table said he’d been back to bed and got some sleep.

Just a few weeks from Christmas, themed stickers lined the kitchen window and patio door, and a Santa and reindeer winked at him from the fridge, almost keeping watch over the food in there, more so with Drift walking in. No doubt the kids would have run wild with decorations in the living room, but he hadn’t noticed much last night.

But the recently lit tealight candle and first aid box that sat on the table stole his attention.

Fuck. He had fucked up.

Sickness hitting heavy in his stomach, he pulled out a chair and sat down, arms folded protectively across his chest.

The kitchen was the only place Jackson kept free of bodies. “We good?” said Drift.

Not looking up from his phone, Jackson held his free hand out on the table.

Drift stared down at it, and after just a second, Jackson put his phone down—then grabbed Drift by the wrist and pulled his arm across the table before he shoved his jumper sleeve up his arm.

“The car that was hit with a Molotov Cocktail, plus the supermarket guard that was beaten to a pulp a few weeks back,” Jackson said flatly. “Was that you?”

Drift’s heart pounding hard, he frowned.

Jackson pulled his arm an inch over the candle, leaving the flame flickering in the backdraft.

The flame settled, and heat seared into the soft skin just below Drift’s wrist, and he blinked, once… twice.

“Let me rephrase that.” Jackson’s focus stayed down on his phone as he flicked through it. “ Why was it you?”

Pain…. It was a… strange thing. Unfriendly. It didn’t force him to cry out, only take a step back from the cold look it sent his way. He knew it touched his body, that a part of him was hurting, that it would hurt for a while to come afterwards, but in the… distance of it here, all he really feared was the aftermath. When he knew he’d step back up to it and the burn would kick back in like it had after Light had hit him in the hall.

“That’s you not talking when you really should learn to.” It came again so quietly, and Jackson looked his way as he lowered Drift’s wrist over the flame a little more. “Tell me why.”

He held Jackson’s look, knowing the longer he didn’t talk, the more it would hurt when he did step back into it. “Ava.” It scared him how there was no pain, not on his body, not when it came to Ava, just this… dead feeling inside, the need to let it burn away his skin. “Bitch was there. And no guard got beaten up.”

Blood. It had been on his hand, dripping to the floor as a man lay groaning on the floor, but he’d hurt it breaking the car window, right?

Jackson watched him for a moment. “A guard was beaten to a pulp.” He released the grip on his wrist

Drift finally sucked in a breath, cupping his arm to his chest to stop being forced back in to face the hurt, but also avoiding that look in Jackson’s eyes.

Jackson blew the candle out, then he took Drift’s arm again, pulling it down to rest on the table as he tugged over a bowl and a bottle of water. “Because of Wales?” He undid the water cap with his teeth. Cold water dripped onto Drift’s burn, the excess dripping into the bowl. “Because she let you watch what she did there and you, you stupid fuck, you followed and watched anyway?”

The small lick of red skin just below his wrist fired the switch, and the hurt started to eat at him as a tear slipped free. “Yeah. Because of that. I—”

“I don’t care about your whys, Drift. I really fucking don’t. You know better.” Jackson tightened his grip, the cold water keeping a constant stream over it. “So she took it the only way she would when it comes to you too, she came back all Touch you up for it, Drift . Enough you lose your shit with the guards, then skip town without warning mine over why, leaving us open to face your shit?”

“You didn’t get any trouble, right?” He ignored the muggy details over the guard. Ava wasn’t that bored as to target anyone here. She liked Jackson alive to live out what he’d lost because of her running with them all those years back. Jackson knew her control level as well as he did. “I wasn’t on your patch,” he said just as flatly. “I stayed away to make sure she didn’t come here.”

Jackson reached into the medkit and pulled out some clingfilm. “Damage was already done, dickhead.” He rested a layer of file on top of the burn to Drift’s wrist, then sealed it with surgical tape in a square around it. “If she saw you in Wales, then she saw Leon, no doubt Brighty too.” Jackson flicked him a look. “The only reason she hasn’t come after them is because they weren’t stupid enough to get out of the fucking car and follow her in the first place. What the fuck was your dick thinking?”

His look lowering against everything hidden behind those words, Drift tugged his arm back and cradled it across his chest, the second tear that slipped free the only recognition that anger, hurt, and enforced… dirt was more than kicking in.

Him and Ava, they’d been kids back then, and everything in Jackson’s look and why he kept a no-touch policy now between his kids always came down to Drift and… Ava. More how Drift sometimes needed the reminder not to… touch Ava.

Jackson looked away and shook his head before tugging something else from the medkit. Paracetamol landed close by, and a fresh bottle of water was pushed over next.

Drift eventually took the first and downed two with the water.

Jackson waited until he’d finished before easing back and folding his arms. “You also picked a fight with Keyne last night.”

Drift felt like he’d downed sour milk, but it wouldn’t ever be for pissing off Keyne. “He was a dick leaving West and Hastings in the fire pit—”

“ Who I dealt with last fucking night . Because this is my fucking crew .”

Drift jolted at the shout and fell quiet.

“Point being,” said Jackson. “My crew, where if you see that bitch on the street and it pisses you off how she still makes you feel despite witnessing all her shit, you shut your eyes, you shut your mouth, and you take time out with a baseball bat in the breakroom. She sends bent guards, rozzers, fuck, even old Mrs Ryans from the paper shop on your ass— you shut your eyes, you shut your fucking mouth, and you take time out with a baseball bat in the fucking breakroom. You don’t, and I’ll say this to you only once again—you don’t ever make fucking decisions that put my crew in bastard danger. You’d have bloody run circles around those security guards. The only reason you’d take a cocktail to a car and hurt a guard is if you got pissed off.”

Yeah, Drift really needed the breakroom now because this was pissing him off in other ways. The room a few doors down came with a baseball bat and broken furniture to… break life’s hurt. No one got in the way of a kid going in there. They usually had a warm drink ready for when they did manage to come out.

Jackson lit the candle again. “And the next time I see West dragged out onto the street again after dark because she’s looking for you, we’re done. And I mean I’m fucking done with both you and West this time.”

“What?” Drift looked at him sharply, away from the flame. “You don’t take this out on—”

“I don’t… what exactly?” Jackson cupped his ear, waiting.

Drift forced all bite-back away, and after a moment, Jackson nodded. “Better, because your dumbass head keeps threatening comeback for every goddamn one here, and West, she was back there with us, with you and you and Ava as well. It got in her head too. So she still follows you into the poison, putting her back at risk as well.”

Drift gave a nod, sharp, fast. He could take most things in life, just not her out there on the street to catch more bruises to her jaw.

Jackson gave a rough sigh and sat back. “Keyne. What is it with you and always needing to find warmth?” He pushed at a coffee mug that looked like it had long since lost its warmth. “Why sleep with him, you asshole? Why fuck things up like that between you and West? And if Ava finds out, he’ll end up in some gutter somewhere…”

The change was so abrupt, more Grant’s Jackson, or an echo of the softer side Jackson had worn for a while back there. Drift shrugged. “It was cold,” he mumbled. “And we didn’t fuck. It didn’t move beyond a circle-jerk the first time; I was too drunk the second time, and—”

“Stop. Enough with the fucking gories. You’re still a fucking eight-year-old to me, temper tantrums and all.” Jackson screwed his face, and from underneath the medkit, he tugged out a pen and pad and shoved them over. “Speaking of which…. Rule one. Write it down.”

The pad skidded off the table, onto his lap, and Drift stared down at it as the pen rolled to a stop.

“Now,” added Jackson.

Drift tossed the pad on the table, then hand shaking slightly, he rubbed at his head.

“Do it.”

He took the pen and flipped the page. It took two attempts to write the number 1, and Drift bit hard at his bottom lip as he struggled with the rest. Ten minutes later, he tossed the pen down.

Jackson didn’t even look at it. “You’ve got limits,” he said flatly. “And I’ll remind you of each and every goddamn one until you learn to stay out of Ava’s way so she doesn’t fucking exploit them all again.”

Exploit. Drift stiffened, every pore of his body on edge and spiking into his skin. Yeah, Ava’s skill at that…. He felt so sick.

But… run. Drift could do that. Read, no problem. Use coding that was a mass of numbers and symbols that made little sense to anyone else, yeah. Even nail his Korean symbols. But write one fucking sentence without it taking everything out of him? The street didn’t give you the resources to sit and learn to write, not properly. It came out as a massive scribble belonging more to a five-year-old and why Jackson would always see him as that kid.

But it was the main reason why he didn’t have a phone. Texting he wouldn’t… couldn’t do.

“Rule one,” said Jackson, and he leaned in and held up a finger. “No sex here. Sixteen’s the legal age limit outside of those doors. In here, it’s eighteen because I don’t want rozzers eating into my skin over running a fucking whore house for the nonces out there. Which I never fucking will. Musical skill keeps kids here because that’s how I learned to survive on the streets. I won’t have anything else tainting it under this roof, we clear? Grant certainly fucking wouldn’t.”

That sobered Drift. “I paid my dues for messing around with Keyne, over a month’s worth of dues,” Drift said quietly. “If I remember rightly, you let Keyne get out of paying his. So you’re bringing this up now because?”

“Because Keyne’s base is here,” snapped Jackson. “I cut him and West slack because they’re my top earners. All of their earnings come back into the base to help keep it a safe zone for other kids. But you?”

Drift looked his way. “What about me?”

Jackson leaned his way. “You drift. And when you do, I lose West with it. She went out on to Ava’s streets, trying to find out who was calling this Jude’s fucking name, and you bit. You went off on your own last night, and she followed you again.”

Drift avoided his gaze, so damn quickly. “I didn’t know she was looking.”

“And there’s your whole goddamn fucking problem,” said Jackson. “You don’t know because you run around blind so many goddamn times. You don’t know because you don’t base fucking anywhere or feel the hurt until the danger’s passed. And that left her out there on her own.” He leaned a little closer. “That what you want, hm? Her out there with Ava, feeling a hurt you can’t?”

“ No .” He snarled that, then dropped all attitude with how Jackson eased back.

“Yeah, I know you don’t, you idiot.” All aggression seemed to drop from his eyes. “It happens, though. And you…” He reached over and tugged Drift’s arm free to thumb at one of the pads to his fingers. “You know firsthand what happens when you get caught out on your own with Ava at night. Everything you can lose.”

Drift jerked his hand away, but he avoided the hangman’s noose marking that scarred its way over Jackson’s throat more in that moment.

A rub came at his arm. “Look, asshole, learn the bloody lesson I keep trying to teach you: the hurt catches up to you. But where we all have something to run from out here, finding someone good to run to ?” Jackson offered a frown. “That doesn’t come along very often, not on the streets. And you always leaving the window open to bolt through, getting both of your heads turned Ava’s way no matter how much you hate that bitch? Drifting keeps the head safe, but it offers no loyalty with this.” He tapped at Drift’s chest. “West won’t ever trust you fully with hers, not if you keep drifting away from her window to watch through Ava’s, even if it is only to see if she’s coming after ours, you see that, right? How you keep running from all of us with her in mind?”

Drift eased his touch off. “The choice to drift wasn’t ever mine. I’m not fucking welcome anywhere after touching her, where my head goes because of it.”

Jackson frowned. “I’ve not walked away yet. I never have because I know just how fucking young you were. She fucked your head up. Still does. But this isn’t just about you here, Drift. You need to understand that. West… her skill is with her voice. But her skill on the roofs and running? It won’t ever be yours and Ava’s. And you learned the hard way over how to get out of trouble high and fast. I know you don’t want her to have to learn that way too, because it’s the only way you really do learn out here. I know you damn well don’t want Ava coming back our way to hurt the other kids basing here as well, which we’re damn lucky there was no repercussions after Wales.”

Drift’s stomach twisted. No, not hurt West. Not like that. Not Brighty.

“So did you find out who he was? What the noise was all about?”

Drift looked up.

“This Jude. Did you find out why his name’s been running the street over the past month? West was worried a Night-walker was calling for him.”

Drift quickly shook his head. “Old-guard nightwalker looking for some kid, nothing more.”

Hurt, but a flash of anger that seemed a buried a little too quickly flashed across Jackson’s eyes. “One that’s going to bring trouble our way?”

Drift shook his head. Mentioning family and psychopaths back at the manor along with talk on Ava? He couldn’t put it on Jackson’s shoulders. “I’ll move on again in a few hours, take it away from here just in case.” West would get to hear about the supermarket, and part of him didn’t want to see the hurt in her eyes most. Yeah, he went out looking for Ava, still got caught in her traps, ran from most, but his intent was pure with only needing to keep an eye on where she was, like a black widow let loose in an orphan’s home. He just had to know which corner she weaved her web from, that morbid fascination over seeing her weave her web when he did find her. Hate… loathe every part of her fibre entirely.

“No you fucking won’t. You keep your ass low here until I know it’s clear, understood?”

Drift shook his head. “I’m not bringing any trouble your way again.”

Jackson flicked him a look. “It’s not a friendly invite, cunt. Along with breaking boundaries set by me with Ava, Essex gave you some shit a month back, and I know a few weeks away will have given you time to get a damn sight heavier because you followed Ava. So you stay here until I know you’re clean. You were damn stupid to go in with West and the fire rope with anything like that in your system. It’ll also give me time to work out your dues to be paid, and we’ll start with a two-week cut of whatever you’ve earned out of town for the past month. And I mean the cut you never tell any other crew you managed to shack up with out there.”

Drift went to tell him to fuck off , but—

“ Three fucking weeks,” said Jackson. “Don’t make it four. Basics of the discussion: You both come talk to me about concerns over Ava and her Night-walkers, no one else, am I clear?”

Drift held his look, then tugged out his wallet. “You know if West ever decides to get a place and trust me with a key, we’re out of here,” he said as he sorted through his notes.

“You getting that old you need a key to get in, Drift? Disappointing.” Jackson snorted coldly. “And prawn sandwiches. I do the best here, if I remember rightly. You’ll be slipping back in through the closed window until they carry you out in a sodding prawn sandwich wrapper.”

Damn him, he had a point. Drift finally managed a snort and tossed a three-week cut of his money on the table as he stood. Then he added a fourth for the grief. “Tosser.”

Jackson scooped up both. “Now that’s a way back into a man’s cold, dead heart.” He added the three-week cut to the pot on the table, then pocketed the fourth, then offered his mug of coffee over. “Second dues of the week. Coffee duty for all staff. Me first, then Keyne. When the cool-down period’s over, you’re also feeding your little thieving ferret feet off for me over with the big boys, all windows nailed shut to stop you drifting. So enjoy the break, then slip into something comfortable when it comes to footwear, because it’s gonna hurt, and Leon will be at the front door each time, checking you over for drugs.”

Jackson looked up at him. “Now fuck off. I’ll have the twins give you a wake-up call to get the first drug’s test underway with them.”

Drift paled. “I’ll pass the sample onto Leon before he clocks off.”

Jackson snorted a smile. “Good boy. See, you can play nice.”

“Under threat doesn’t exactly count.”

“Then stay a good lad and don’t make me bring out the threats. See… simple, ain’t it, son?”

“You make me feel it. Simple.” Drift thumbed at the storage room as he fought off a headache. “Mind if I grab some more pain killers. I’m nearly out.”

Jackson eased back, a touch of worry in his eyes. “Sure. Don’t get this close to running out on them again. Your head’s screwed up enough.” He gave a sniff. “But… we’re running low on meds. Get West to have a word with Nugget and get a list of what she needs stocking up.” He seemed to think something over. “West’ll do the run to Jessop’s.”

Drift stiffened. “Not without me.”

“Yeah, without you,” Jackson said flatly. “She has dues to be paid as well, and this one will give you a taste of what you put her through last night.”

Drift felt sick. “She was out with me at my marks. She could have been spotted because they had laser pointer detection installed.”

“Oh.” Jackson tilted his head. “She never told me security was that good.” He held out his hand.

For a moment, Drift didn’t do anything, then he shifted and pulled the rest of his money free, leaving himself fifty pound.

“You’re both grounded, and I’ll take a four-week cut off her because she allowed Brighty to go, who’ll goddamn follow her anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my kitchen. With Jessop’s, I’ll send Newt from over mine at Dorson Road.”

Not wanting to tell West just yet how much money she’d be losing, Drift got Jackson his coffee, then the morning watchers before he pinched the last strip of pain killers marked in his name and made it back up to West’s corner of the loft. Careful not to wake her as he stepped over the sleeping bag, he eventually sat on the bed, running a shaking hand through his hair.

That could have gone so much worse. At least Jackson hadn’t opted for burning his balls.

“I take it he’s grounded our arses?” West sounded sleepy, and it hit with just how long she’d waited up for him in the early hours, that and how Jackson had also just cut her off from earning any money too for a few days.

He tugged a spare pillow from the bed and leaned down to tuck it under her head, wincing at the burn to his arm as he covered that up too. “I think it’s gonna take me feeding into ten Downing Street just to spike the PM’s coffee with a laxative in order to get back on the rota for his good books.”

A chuckle. “Guy hates politicians. But stream that one for me when you do. Oh, right. You need a phone for that, you asshole.”

Drift winced, so badly. Phones led to access, that led to playlists, that led to personal information, that led right back here, to Brighty, to Jackson, to everything wrapped up in that sleeping bag. “Meds are running low.” Unease bit into his stomach. “He’s sending a feeder to Jessop’s to stock up. You need anything?”

West turned over and looked up at him. “Can you add some Estro?” she whispered quietly.

“You’re nearly out?” he whispered back.

West nodded. She’d been taking Estrogen for two years now. The effects of the feminising hormone were subtle: a slight reduction in muscle mass, a drop in body hair on the jaw, and minor breast development. It gave her more slender curves, but she fought with her weight taking them, in her eyes seeming to put on stones over just breathing around chocolate. Her temper would match the frustration, but… perfect. She was just perfect in Drift’s eyes, with milk-white skin, long red hair and….

Yeah. He’d maybe take that time in the break room. He tugged on his trainers, needing to work the stress out if he was going to be on lock down here, with West. “You need anything else?”

“A Twix? Maybe two.” She slumped back down, an arm going over her face. “Fuck it. Just bribe the feeder’s ass to get me a multipack, yeah? Please .”

She was off chocolate for another reason entirely, and no way was he risking another call to the kitchen off Jackson for getting her even a sniff off the packet. “Anything that won’t get my balls burned?”

A pillow came his way. “Wuss….”

“Hey.” He caught it and tossed it on the bed. “How about I give it twenty-four hours, then find an open window and… take a little trip out?”

“Breaking house rules already, huh?” She looked his way. “All that, for me? Why thank you, kind sir.” She fluttered her eyelids. “Just don’t get caught.” Her smile faded as she focused on his arm.

Giving a frown, she sat up and ran a touch close to it. “Fucking bas—”

Drift tugged it away and let his sleeve slip down. “Limits,” he said flatly. “Just his way of knocking my ass on the floor before anyone else does.”

West went to say something, but anger burning in her look, she kept her quiet as Drift got to his feet, then he frowned as he patted himself down. Yeah, she’d been back there with Ava too. She knew why Jackson got so damn extreme to burn it out of his system.

“Rucksack”

“Hm?” he whispered back to her.

She turned her back on him and pulled the cover up under her chin. “What you dropped last night as you tried to unroll the sleeping bag… I put it in your rucksack.”

Heart caught in his mouth, Drift tugged the bag from under the bed and started searching through it.

The phone sat in a zipped side pocket, and he took it out only to stare down.

“You need me to take a look, get access for you?”

Almost not hearing West, Drift looked her way. “No,” he said quietly. “Best not try and activate it.” It was switched off, so he must have done it sometime last night before he got back here to Jackson’s. Good job with how cell tower triangulation or GPS tracking worked. It needed to be on for it to be traced. “It’s just a warning.”

West looked over her shoulder. “You think that type back at the manor would see it as a warning?”

Drift shrugged, not really sure why his knee-jerk reaction had been to steal the phone. Most thought they were untouchable until something was taken from them. And with being touched, it made most close ranks, lock the doors more securely, but also keep them grounded behind those walls and keep to that safety. Sometimes the threat of having more taken was enough. He didn’t need to access the phone to push withdrawal levels any deeper.

He kept his frown down at the sleek black phone in his hand.

“Hey.” West sat up and crossed an arm over her knees as she rubbed at his leg. Her frown matched his. “Just… just go burn some stress off in the cellar’s parkour space, okay? Keep your head down, look after your arm. We’ll talk silver-grey copies of eyes when you’re ready, okay?”

Drift crouched down and took half a cut of the money he had left and handed it to her.

“I’m not taking that,” she said quietly.

“He’s taking a four-week due; you’re also not earning over the next few days. So take and hide it. It’s not much, but it’ll help with the basics.”

West winced, then reached under the bed, and a brief look back, she lifted a plank and pulled a shoebox free. From the stack of notes she had in there, she put some in her wallet, roughly four weeks of what she’d earned, then she put some in Drift’s hand as he stared at the money left in the box.

“What?” She grinned his way. “My basics are somewhat… more expensive than yours.” she said softly.

Drift finally choked a laugh, then split what she’d given him in half and slipped it back in her box. “I owe you.”

“Continuously,” said West. “Now go practice your run in the cellar and let me get some goddamn sleep.”

He nodded, then wiped a long strand of hair away from her lips before he knew what he was doing. “Erm, you… come train with me later, yeah?” The other kids had the break room with a baseball bat; he had the cellar, how the flooring had been dug twenty foot deep, concreted, then kitted out with a lad’s wet dream when it came to parkour: large and small brick tubular bars, handrails, a variety of: brick modules, trapeze walls… basically enough to break bones daily with the unskilled, but keep him swinging and… away from West.

“Fuck no and fuck you.” She slumped back down. “I’m grounded, and you chose violence with going after Ava, remember?” She got very comfortable under the covers. “Shame that, right? How you could have been here, maybe with me, when you chose bitch face.”

There was no anger, no jealousy, only quiet worry and the balls to pull him up for it. Drift loved her so much for it. But then she knew the games Ava played. How the worst got dragged in… how they were made to keep going back in. Because damn his soul, Drift hadn’t seen it….

He smiled gently at her, then patted her hip and went to move.

“And if they do come looking for the phone somehow?”

Drift eased down back by West, but didn’t say anything for a moment. “Their interest didn’t seem ill, so I’m kind of hoping they’re smart enough to take the warning and give me some space,” he whispered quietly. “I have a few names now as well as an address, I can work out the rest. I just don’t want them around as I do it. My terms, no one else’s, not yet.”

West nodded. “And then?”

Drift shrugged. He didn’t know, but he trusted gut instinct.

And that gut instinct…?

Like with Ava and her games, it wanted him to keep running fast and bloody far from that reflection of his own eyes.