I didn’t believe her at the time. I still don’t. Mac is the only one in there, and she takes up so much space it leaves no room for anyone else.
After dumping the bandage in the trash, I make my way to my room. Put in this same situation, Mac wouldn’t sit back and do nothing. She wouldn’t let this happen. So neither will I. My father needs a care facility, and I need to find my way back to Sydney.
“You ever need money, Romero, you come see me.”
Leander Fox doesn’t mean a hand out. No way in hell. I’ll have to earn it, and the thought of how I’ll have to earn it makes me sick to my stomach but the only other choice I have is to sit back and let fate take its course. And as far as I’m concerned, fate can go fuck itself.
JAKE
Luke dumps my stuffed satchel on the queen-sized bed. It represents everything I own in the world. He turns and waves his arms in a grand gesture. “This is it. What do you think?”
My eyes take in the room. It’s big, with an airy window and walls the colour of stone. The walnut timber furniture is finished in a rich gloss, and the white sheets are bright and crisp. The best part? When I reach over and flick on the light switch by the wall, a warm glow fills the room. “It’ll do.”
The comment earns me a punch to the arm. “Get stuffed, Romero. This place is a palace.”
In actual fact it’s a four-bedroom brick home with a granite kitchen, stainless steel appliances, and an outdoor spa that Leander has christened the ‘hot tub of love.’ I won’t be dipping my toes in it any time soon. God knows what lives beneath the dark, bubbling water, and he can keep that information to himself.
I reach for my bag and slide the zipper open, my mind going to my first tattoo. The memory will remain forever clear. The buzz of the needle had been an annoying mosquito; the sharp point jabbed repeatedly into firm muscle until I ached for it to end. The heat of the afternoon had been relentless, the sheen of sweat dampening my palms. Afterward, we’d sat in the courtyard of the local pub listening to live music and eating thick, juicy steak burgers dripping with barbeque sauce. The sense of fullness after eating for the first time in days had felt incredible.
Two, long hungry weeks later, I did what I had to do. I made the call and sold my soul to Satan. Now here I am, moving in to Luke and Leander’s house. The money Leander says I’ll earn is mind-blowing. I don’t have to rely on the hope of there being food to eat or clean clothes to wear. I have independence now, and it’s empowering.
I left no forwarding address with my foster carers. Despite the Government doing random checks on my placement, I don’t believe they’ll track me down. There are thousands of kids like me. They don’t have the manpower to search out each and every one of us. To them I’ll just be another kid lost to the system.
“Jake.”
Luke’s tone is impatient as if he’s been calling my name more than once.
I half-turn, pausing from tugging worn clothes from my bag and placing them onto the bed. “Thanks, Luke. I appreciate this.”
“Don’t thank me.” His eyes take on a dark, grim expression that ruffles my nerves. “You have tonight to get through first.”
Tonight my fall into the underworld will be complete. According to Leander, I can’t work for them until they’re sure I can be trusted. In order to do that, an initiation will take place. “Right.” I resume my task, removing the shaving kit and setting it on the bed. It’s black leather and had belonged to my father. “What did you have to do?”
“I didn’t.”
That’s cause for me to pause again. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t do for them what you’re about to do. Leander earns all the money. I just go to school.”
The thought leaves me unsteady. I sink to the edge of the bed, a shirt bunched in my hands. The thought that at least Luke and I were in this together had bolstered my courage, but I’d thought wrong. I let out a shaky breath.
“You don’t have to do this,” Luke says, standing over me.
My head shakes vigorously. “I do.”
“I can talk to Lee. We can work something else out.”
There’s no talking to Lee. The deal is done. I’d rather walk out in front of an oncoming bus than face what’s coming, but I have to do this. My father needs me now. My throat tightens at the staggering responsibility on my shoulders. The new care facility bills are huge. And there’s no one to pay them. No one but me.
I look up at Luke, my lips flat with determination. “There’s nothing to work out, Fox.” Standing, I toss my shirt on the bed and clap him on the back, forcing cheer to my voice. “Let’s go downstairs and get a drink.”
“You’re gonna need one,” he mutters beneath his breath as he jogs down the steps behind me.
“Ever fired a gun?” Leander asks as we stand in the kitchen later that night.
My gaze falls on his outstretched hand. He’s holding one out toward me, his eyes zeroed on mine. Shit. Double shit. There’s a difference between saying I’ll work for Leander and actually working for Leander. “Once before. At a shooting range.”
His expression is a smirk. “Well, now you get to do it again.”
My heart pounds as I stare at the gleaming hunk of metal in his hand. I don’t want to touch it knowing its purpose is not to protect but to threaten and potentially maim. I don’t want to do this. My gaze lifts to Leander. “What do I need a gun for?”
He shrugs. “We’re owed money and we’re gonna pay the man a visit.” He takes a step forward and shoves it at me. “Take it, Romero. It’s not gonna bite your face off.”
I think of my father. Of him sitting in a wheelchair staring out the window without a nurse to care for him. And I think of Mac. Of her soft lips and how her sassy attitude sets my soul alight. And as I do, my hand closes around the deadly weapon. The steel is cool and heavy in my palm. It feels wrong. My stomach knots and my lips set in a grim line. I don’t want to do this.
“You alright?” Leander asks.
“Sure, it won’t bite my face off,” I tell him, holding the grip tighter to hide the trembling of my hands. It won’t do for Luke’s older brother to know that I’m shit scared. “It might shoot it off though.”
Leander’s laugh is loud and hard. “You’ll be alright. Just don’t point it at your face.”
“Right,” I tell him, watching as he grabs his own, checks the chamber like a professional, and tucks it into the front of his jeans. I’m not game enough to do that. I’d probably shoot my dick off. “I’ll be sure not to do that.”
He jerks his head toward the door that connects the kitchen to the garage. “Let’s go.”
I take a moment after he leaves to draw a deep breath of courage. When I go to follow, Luke rounds the corner of the kitchen and catches hold of my bicep, bringing me to a halt. “Romero,” he hisses urgently, his tone low. “It’s not loaded.”
My brow creases as I stare at him, puzzled. “What?”