Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Krew
I was a glutton for punishment. Even though Decker had pointed the gun in my face, I knew instinctively that my best friend would never shoot me. His words stung, yet they weren’t enough to make me stay away—or keep me from texting him. I needed to make sure he was also safe.
I pulled up my contacts, hoping that I still had Decker’s old phone number. Luck was on my side. Though, it had been years since I last called and texted him. It was a long shot that the number was good, but I had to try.
Once I sent the first message, I waited all of five minutes. I wasn’t willing to give up just yet, since the text hadn’t bounced back as undeliverable. So, I messaged him once more.
Now, I glared down at my phone, willing Decker to answer my texts. He didn’t.
“Bastard,” I hissed, shoving the cell into my jeans pocket as I resumed pacing in the Motel 6 parking lot.
Then the damn thing vibrated, and I anxiously pulled it back out. I quickly typed in my password and then tapped the messages icon.
Two words blared up at me like a taunt. I’m good.
What the hell did that mean? I waited for more, but nothing else popped up.
I rubbed the back of my neck in frustration as the radio silence continued. Though I was somewhat relieved Decker was safe, I wasn’t happy about his two-word, fuck off salute back to me.
I returned to the motel room, closed the door, and leaned against it for support. After I took a couple of deep breaths, the tension left my body.
I stripped and went into the tiny bathroom.
Not sure when—or even if Teke would return to the room, I locked the door and climbed into the shower.
With how tall I was, I had to bend slightly to wash away the sweat that coated my skin.
As I slid my soapy hands over my body, an image of Decker and Regina—together, touching me, flitted across my mind.
Jesus, it had been years since I’d last thought of them together. Kissing each other—them kissing me. The memory of their touches had always soothed my soul—especially when the warden put me in solitary confinement. Those memories had kept my sanity in place, until I got the hell out of there.
I closed my eyes and slid my hand down to my semi-rigid cock. I stroked it until I was rock hard and the urge to come had my balls drawing up—until a crash jolted me out of my lust-induced stupor.
The slam of a door had me looking at my dick. “Sorry,” I sighed and dropped my hand.
Assuming it was my brother, I took my time rinsing off the body wash and got out of the shower. As I grabbed for the towel, Teke pounded on the locked bathroom door.
“Where’re you, motherfucker?” I was pretty sure that was what he’d said. But Teke’s slurred words sounded more like ‘were you, moth-furker’. A drunk and coked up Teke was a nasty thing to encounter.
The lock was so flimsy even my asshole brother could have easily broken in with one kick. Since he didn’t have a brain cell working at that moment, so it was safe enough for me to dry off.
“Be out in a second,” I called out casually while towel drying my bald head.
“Ya fur-king leff me,” he hiccuped. “I adda to walk. Git out…” The rest of his words were muffled.
I stayed silent, listening to his bullshit on the other side of the door. He hadn’t walked. I saw him get in that BMW.
Another crash, like glass shattering, had me clenching my teeth. I didn’t have enough cash to cover whatever he was breaking. I opened the door, a towel wrapped around my waist, and stormed out to see what havoc my idiot brother had created.
On the floor, by the bed, Teke was face down and not moving. Guess he’d had too much booze with the drugs he snorted up his nose. I used my foot to roll him over—and goddamnit, there was a gun in his limp hand.
Fucking A. Now where the hell did he get that nine mil?
It wasn’t a surprise that my brother had somehow gotten a gun. But why was it in his—wait. Was he going to shoot me?
I wasn’t planning on finding out. Not sure if the damn thing was hot, I kicked the gun out of his hand as I stripped off the towel. Then I picked the weapon up with the towel, checked that the safety was on, and placed it next to my bag.
The broken lamp hanging off the nightstand caught my eyes. That was coming out of his pocket, not mine. The stupid asshole deserved to pay for it, especially after he dragged me here to fight.
The next time he wanted cash, maybe he should be the one in the ring. Or he should get a damn job—right, that would never happen. From now on, Teke was going to have to find his own way to earn money. I was done being used as his mule.
I didn’t bother waking Teke up, just left him lying in the shattered glass.
I quickly got dressed, threw on a hoodie, and packed my shit in the duffle—including the gun, and dropped the keys for Teke’s piece of shit car onto his chest. The last thing I wanted was for my brother to accuse me of stealing his ride.
As I turned to leave, my brother surprised me, and clocked me in the back of the head.
I stumbled forward—the momentum had my body crashing against the door.
I quickly righted myself, spun around and blocked Teke’s next swing before it landed on my face.
Guess he wasn’t completely out of it after all.
“I told you to never hit me again. You just don’t listen,” I growled.
Teke grunted, then started swinging like a madman. He got in a few lucky hits to my ribs and one to my face. This time, though, I wasn’t going to be a willing target for his rage.
I threw my blows, harder and faster, aiming for his face and kidneys. My fists were a brutal force but Teke wasn’t going down. He was a tenacious son of a bitch.
“Wer the furck ya’re goin’, pussy? Runnin’ back home?” Spittle sprayed from his mouth; saliva dripped down his dirty, scruffy chin.
Now how could I have forgotten that Teke was meaner when he was hopped on drugs and booze? Alcohol, especially, made him feel invincible. Then add the drugs, and my only choice was to knock his ass out. Or he’d keep coming at me.
“I’m done with this. I won’t fight for you anymore, Teke,” I hissed, then dodged his right hook and came back with an upper hook, catching him on the jaw.
He swung again and missed. “If ya quit, how’re we gonna eat? What about Dad?”
“That won’t work on me anymore. I’m through.”
“Where’re ya gonna getta job? No one wants an ex-con.” More spittle flew past his lips as he raged on. This was Teke’s way of keeping me under his thumb. I was finally done doing his dirty work.
“Don’t worry about me. You should be thinking about yourself.” Like you always do .
Teke kept bouncing around, taking wild swings at me, while I dodged them and countered. “Ya musta got too many hits to yar thick skull? Noo-body wants a jailbird?”
He knew how to hit below the belt. That last verbal shot hit like a real punch to my nutsack.
“If it wasn’t for you stealing that car, I wouldn’t have gone to jail.” I jabbed.
“Don’t furcking blame me. No-one said to be a he-hero.” Teke barked out a laugh before he spat at my feet, adding to the insult.
“Well. I learned. I’ll let you hang next time.”
“I say—” hiccup, “when you’re done, motherfucker.” He kicked out and nailed my outer thigh.
He tried to tackle me, but I kept the upper hand. Teke might be older and meaner, but I was bigger, faster, and stronger.
I twisted away, got behind him, and put all my hundred and ninety-seven pounds of muscle and bone into the gravity of the punch. The blow landed on the side of his head. The second my fist made contact, my brother twisted, and dropped like a rock onto the carpet. He was out cold.
I stood there for a short moment, breathing heavily, and watched blood trickle from his nose and his chest go still. I bent down and touched two fingers to his neck and found a strong pulse. His rhythmic heartbeat was steady.
I didn’t want to kill my brother, only incapacitate him. Though, I felt no remorse or doubt that Teke had deserved this ass kicking.
Since he wasn’t dead, I picked up my duffle and hoofed it out of there.
When I’d gone about a mile down Jackson, I finally slowed my stride into a steady walking pace, trying to not look suspicious. I didn’t trust the police—not after what they did to me.
However, this area was just as sketchy. I stopped, grabbed the gun from the duffle and tucked it into my hoodie pouch. At least I could defend myself in case some fucker tried to jump me. Again.
As I neared the corner of Oak and Jackson, I noticed a pickup truck was rolling up beside me and kept pace. I held my eyes forward, not wanting to provoke the driver or anyone else inside the vehicle.
Jesus, when it rained, it poured. I wasn’t surprised that more chaos was piling up onto my already shitty night.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the front passenger window slide down.
“Get in.”
I came to an abrupt halt as I recognized Decker’s raspy voice, and the truck also stopped moving. I slowly turned and stared at him for a long minute, not sure if I was truly seeing him or if my imagination was playing tricks on me.
“Get in the truck, Krew, or do I have to pull out my gun again? There’s no room for arguing in this neighborhood at three in the morning,” he ordered as he looked around the area. He was pissed. Why?
“I’m good.” I pulled out the gun. Decker’s nostrils flared, and his blue eyes turned icy.
“Put that fucking thing away, and get in the damn truck, K.” His clipped tone brooked no argument and I slid the gun back into my pouch. He sat in the truck, glared at me and waited.
I was too damned tired to argue—or to fight.
Teke had drained most of it out of me. Besides, I wasn’t in the right head space to debate with this man.
Not knowing where I was, or how safe the streets around here actually were, I got in.
As soon as my door shut, Decker put the vehicle into drive and took off.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I asked, while shoving the duffle down by my feet.
“My handler tracked your phone,” he growled, as though he was angry with me. “And give me that gun before you go shooting your dick off.”
“Your who ? And no. I feel better keeping the gun.” I had a tight grip on the gun, which was still in my hoodie pouch.
“Never mind who.” He tilted his head slightly, until I was only able to see the part of his face lit up by the street lights we passed. The rest was hidden in the shadows of the dark cab. “Christ,” he muttered.
“Why did you track me down? Especially when you made it clear that you don’t want to see me again.” I tried to remain calm, but my fury built with every petulant word out of my mouth.
Decker turned his face fully away, adjusting his body before he blew out a heavy breath. “I never said that. I told you to leave, because I didn’t want to see you in jail.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question about why you tracked me down.”
“You’re the one who texted me. You’re the one who won’t leave it alone.”
“That’s right. Blame it on me. Such a typical Decker Moss move,” I snarled, like a hungry Rottweiler wanting the bone being dangled in my face. I wanted the real answers. “Stop playing games, Deck. Tell me the truth. Why did you track me down?”
Decker grazed his thumb across his lower lip, and my eyes tracked the movement. I swallowed deep, trying to tamp down the sudden overwhelming lust brought on by a vivid memory of those lips wrapped around my cock.
He met my eyes. “I missed you and wanted to talk,” Decker finally said in a low timbre.
The tip of his tongue peeked out between his lips, and I shivered slightly.
It seemed he was aching for me as much as I ached for him.
But I wasn’t going to give in to my desire—no matter how desperate I desired his touch, until we got some things straightened out.
“You missed me and you wanted to talk.” I leaned closer to him and coldly said, “Okay. I’m here. Talk.”
“Fuck off. I said I missed you. That’s the truth. So don’t act like you haven’t missed me too,” he hissed, and pushed me away from him.
“Yeah?” I couldn’t hold onto my frown.
“Yeah.”
“Then where have you been all this time?” I asked, easing back to my side of the truck. “Why didn’t you reach out to me? How in the hell did you get into killing people?” I couldn’t stop—it was as if the dam holding back all of my questions had burst.
“Jesus fucking Christ, K,” Decker said with fierce intensity. “I need a drink.”
A chuckle slid out of me. “I need food. And since we have years to catch up on, let’s find a place to eat.”
Decker grumbled something under his breath before saying, “I saw an all-night diner a few miles back.”
“Let’s go.”
“All right.” He turned the truck around, and headed in the opposite direction.
I leaned my head against the headrest and the window, watching the night and the few other cars on the road zipped by in a blur. My eyelids began droop, being lulled into sleep by the moving truck and the silence.
Although, I could feel Decker’s eyes on me. Maybe it was the fear of being separated from each other, after all this time—I didn’t know.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t losing Decker again.