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Of course, there was also not a lot of honor amongst most criminals. So I also understood that the local crew that was selling party drugs on the corner would sell me out in a heartbeat if the payout was big enough.
Still, at least they were aware of their surroundings, noticed shit that the average person wouldn’t.
“The fuck you been, ma?” one of said party drug dealers, Drake, asked, inclining his chin to me, head tipping to the side when he took in my face. “Someone got a taste of you?”
“They paid in blood,” I said, shrugging it off. “And what are you talking about? I’m always around,” I lied. Smoothly, seamlessly. You didn’t get to be as high up in the criminal world as I was without being able to wear a good poker face.
“Haven’t seen you is all.”
“Been busy,” I said.
“Know that feeling,” he agreed, then someone whistled for him, so he gave me a nod and walked off.
Alone, I made my way up to the door, sliding in my key with suspiciously shaky hands.
My mace was in my jacket pocket.
My knife in my pants.
And the gun I’d borrowed from Dav was sitting heavy in a borrowed holster at my waist.
They should have been reassuring.
But I’d had weapons on me when I’d been attacked the last time. It hadn’t done any good.
I sucked in a deep breath, beating back those thoughts, knowing how dangerous they were.
The only reason I’d gotten this far in my life and career was that I didn’t overthink. I acted in the moment. I trusted my gut and my skills. I didn’t worry shit to death and create scenarios in my head that were never going to come to pass. And I never believed anyone could take me out.
Delusional? Obviously.
But it had been keeping me from letting paranoia or fear get the better of me.
Clearly, that was going to be something I needed to work on now as I slid into the elevator, heart punching against my ribcage, imagining someone rushing in last minute, trapping me in there, and shit getting bad fast while I froze or just wasn’t strong enough.
I shook that off as I walked out onto my floor, nodding my head to the teenager who lived at the end of the hall, sitting with his back to the wall, his headphones over his ears, rocking out, and trying to drown out the sounds of his parents going at it yet again.
I felt for the kid. Could relate to him more than he could realize. Once in a while, when I noticed him out there for long periods of time, I’d invite him into my place to share some food with me. He didn’t talk much. And neither did I. But there was an understanding between us that made it unnecessary. Maybe, one day, if he didn’t do the smart thing, work hard in school and escape the neighborhood via a good education, I would offer him a job, let him work his way up.
I went to slide my key in my lock, but the pressure pushed my not only unlocked, but unlatched, door open.
Panic surged through my system as my hand went automatically for the gun, pulling it out without caring who might see me, then pushing the door fully open.
Now, my apartment wasn’t much to write home about. And, in fact, after spending almost a month at Dav’s nice place, it seemed even more stark than usual. The thing was, though, when you didn’t have much, it was easy to keep shit tidy.
But my place looked like a hurricane had blown through. Everything was out of place, knocked over, turned upside down.
Mother fuckers.
My jaw went to granite as I moved inside, my back hugging the wall as I took a turn through my living room, checking in my coat closet, then moving across the small galley kitchen, and across to the hallway.
I ducked into the bathroom first, checking in the linen closet, even though there were shelves in there, and yanking back the shower curtain.
Nothing.
That just left my bedroom.
The door was cracked, but I kicked it open, the sound of it cracking off the wall making my stomach clench as I stepped in, checking the closet.
