Chapter 18 #2
"That's the only explanation there is. Either you want me to live with you, or it's something else, and until you tell me what it is, I'm going with the former." London follows me, her pace slower than mine, reminding me she's still injured, even if she pretends like she's fine.
"I don't want you to live with me, London. You're a disaster." I lead her to the front entrance of the complex and open the door for her, my gaze already scanning outside at what's going on.
"Ouch." London steps through, her head held high in her attempt not to feign hurt from my remark. But she and I both know it's true. "You're not fun to live with either, big boy."
"Yeah? How so?" I position myself between London and the street and walk beside her on our way to the corner store.
"The clean freak thing is a bit much. And heaven forbid anyone even blink in the direction of your precious computers." London talks with her hands and I fight the urge to shut her up the same way I have in the past.
"Please," I huff. "You're being dramatic."
"I am? Are you serious? Everything has to be in its specific place. It has to be tiring constantly arranging and rearranging things."
"I wouldn't have to if you put things back where they belong."
"It's not just that. Have you counted how many times you check the windows daily? You'd think there was a sniper out there you were watching out for."
"They're bulletproof," I let slip out.
"What?"
I sigh. "The windows, they're bulletproof."
London throws her hands up. "Of course they are. Is there anything you aren't prepared for?"
We reach the corner store, and I pause with my hand on the door handle. "I wasn't prepared for you." I open it a second later, and the store clerk greets me once we're inside.
"Archie!" the old woman says and rushes around the counter to wrap her arms around me. "My favorite customer. And who is this?" Her big, round eyes get even bigger as she gawks at London. "A girl. He’s never brought a girl in here."
"Ruth, this is London. London, this is Ruth," I say to them.
"London." Ruth smiles a borderline toothless smile and shakes London's hand. "Oh, sweet angel, what happened to your arm?"
"I'm accident-prone," London tells her.
Ruth laughs and nods. "Me too, my girl, me too."
"I'm going to grab a basket," I tell them, disappearing for the nine seconds it takes me to walk to where Ruth keeps them. When I return, Ruth and London stop talking, both of their lips pinched together like they were already sharing secrets.
Another customer walks in, the doorbell ringing to signal to us. I eye him suspiciously and split my attention between him and them.
"What happened to your face?" Ruth asks me, her question coming as a surprise.
"What's wrong with my face?"
She motions to hers. "It's all bruised. Have you been fighting again? What have I told you, Archie…?"
"It was Seven," I cut her off without letting her continue her lecture. "No big deal. Brotherly thing, you know how it goes."
Ruth nods her head. "All too well." She turns to London. "I've got this sister I want to strangle at least once a week. When I tell you we—"
The man who walked in a minute ago approaches the counter and Ruth stops her speech.
"Let me help him and I'll let you get your shopping done." She slips behind the counter and pushes a button on her register. "Is this all for you, honey?" she says to the man.
But there's something strange about his posture, the sweat forming on his brow, the anxious tapping of his foot.
Without another thought, I shove London into an aisle at the same time the man pulls out a gun and points it at Ruth. "Give me all your money and no one has to get hurt." He turns, shooting the gun into the air and waving it around.
"What the fuck was that?" London asks me, her face strained as we crouch down low together.
I press my finger to my lips. "Shh," I whisper.
She nods, and I wonder if she truly understands the gravity of the situation.
Taking a deep breath through my nose, I silently exhale and think through every possible scenario I can come up with, my one and only goal is to get London out of here safely.
But each path leads me to the same outcome, and if I don't act quickly, there's no telling what additional variables could be added that I haven't considered.
"Stay here," I tell her. "Do not move. Do not come out until I come for you. Do you hear me?"
London blinks up at me through her lashes and stiffly nods again.
With another sobering breath, my heart beating evenly in my chest, a part of me I haven’t acknowledged in far too long comes alive.
Like a switch flipping inside of me, I rise to my feet and turn toward the man threatening to ruin everything.
I march out from behind the aisle, not even flinching when he catches sight of me and thrusts the gun in my direction.
I walk straight toward him, right into the line of fire, and before he can fully process how fucking insane I am, I grab his wrist, twist it, and disarm him. His mouth drops open, his eyes wide with disbelief as I turn his weapon on him, shoving it into his chest.
"Who the fuck sent you?" I say to him, my voice barely raised. My gaze flickers to Ruth just long enough to confirm she's unharmed, and then I focus on this ignorant asshole.
"Wh-what?" he blubbers.
I stare into his eyes, noting how his lip quivers and his hands shake at his sides.
"Get on your fucking knees," I tell him, the rage inside of me building with each passing second. I hate the familiarity of the feeling, and how much I welcome it despite hating it more than anything. I loathe how calm I am with a gun pressed in my palm and the barrel trained on another man.
"Puh-please," he begs as he drops down onto the ground. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."
I narrow my eyes at him. "You didn't mean to, yet you brought a weapon in here? In my fucking neighborhood? Do you not know who the fuck I am?"
He studies me carefully and the moment he realizes, he tears up. "I didn't know, I wouldn't have agreed."
"Agreed to what? To whom?" I push the gun into his chest.
"I—I can't. They'll kill me."
"Who will kill you?"
He pinches his lips together like he's afraid the secret will spill out.
I drag the gun up his neck and across his face and rest it on his forehead. "The only one you should be worried about right now is me."
A siren sounds in the distance but I pay it no attention other than registering it in my awareness. This man might be afraid of the police, but I'm not.
"I'm going to give you to the count of three," I tell him. "One…"
"Please, please, no."
"Two."
"I'm begging you, I don't know anything, I'd talk if I could."
"Three," I mutter as I pull the trigger, the sound deafening and the reverberation rippling up my forearm.
His body thuds against the floor of Ruth's shop, his blood splattered around and pooling on the linoleum.
"Sorry about the floor," I say to Ruth, who stands there on the other side of the counter.
"That's okay, Archie." She offers me an apologetic smile and steps around the side to take in the dead body bleeding out.
With the gun still in my hand, I return to the aisle I left London in, shock settling through me when she's still there. "Holy shit, you listened," I tell her as I round the corner.
She stands, her emerald gaze locked onto mine. "Did you just kill someone?" London marches right past me, stopping in her tracks when she locates the body.
"Uh," is all I respond, the realization that I murdered someone in front of her hitting me like a ton of bricks.
"What are we going to do about that?" London glances back at me, her face scanning mine for answers.
"It was self-defense," Ruth blurts out. "He was robbing the shop, Archie stepped in and took things into his own hands. He's a hero. That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
London's brows bunch and she brings her hand to her chest. "I wasn't blaming Archer." She meets my gaze again. "I wouldn't do that. You know that, right?"
Truth be told, I practically blacked out when the threat appeared, the old version of me stepping into my shoes and doing what needed to be done, but now that I've returned, I don't know what to expect from London.
Sure, she's familiar with crime and danger, but maybe I just took things entirely too far.
Just because I'm used to this life, doesn't mean she is, too.
"Archer," London murmurs.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and flick the screen to life, dialing a number I haven't dialed in a while. It rings twice before it connects, a thick voice on the other side.
"Officer Robinson."
"I need you to send a small team to Ruth's place on the corner. The usual guys, no one else."
A slight pause is followed by, "How many?"
"One," I tell him.
"I'll personally see to it."
"Thanks," I say before hanging up and looking over the gun in my hand, noting the serial number that was filed down on the side. I let out a breath and focus on Ruth. "Someone should be here soon to clean this up. Are you okay?"
"Of course, Archie, I'm fine. Are you okay?" Ruth reaches out toward London. "You okay, honey?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," London says, her voice strangely calm.
Maybe she's in shock. Maybe she's waiting for the opportunity to bolt out of here and never come back.
But instead, she opens her mouth again. "What about the groceries?"
"What?" I ask her, not quite following.
"We came here for stuff for the apartment."
"Right." I tuck the gun into my waistband.
"Take whatever you need," Ruth insists while grabbing another basket and shoving it toward me. "Did you make that tofu like I told you to?"
"Was that your recipe?" London asks her as her gaze shifts from me to Ruth.
Ruth smiles politely. "I take it you're the reason he's buying tofu?"
"Guilty," London admits, her cheeks reddening but only slightly. "It was great, by the way." London takes the basket, ignores the dead man on the floor, and chats to Ruth about tofu.