Page 56 of Ballistic

“It’s nearly eighty degrees outside.”

“It was cold this morning.”

“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in one of the T-shirts from the closet upstairs.”

I turned away from him again, staring down at my sleeve, which hid the cuts I’d carved into my skin. Cuts that’d curbed the urge to stab my mother’s boyfriend. “No, thank you.”

“Someone hurt you again.”

Frowning, I gripped my wrist to keep the sleeve over my arm, as if he’d yank it down for a look. “I hurt myself.”

“We only hurt ourselves when we feel helpless.” He sighed, and a rich smoky scent, like burning fall leaves, filled the room, telling me he’d lit up a cigar. “I hurt myself a few times, until I realized the futility in that.”

“What do you want me to do? Kill him? It’s against the law!” I hissed, blinking away the tears I couldn’t stop as they blurred the names on the sheet below me.

“Tell me his name.”

“What for?”

“Just tell me his name.”

“Tell me the truth first. Did you kill Marty?” I kicked my head to the side just enough to see him sitting at his desk, looking like the Godfather, or something.

“I did.” The lack of hesitation, or remorse, in his voice was both disturbing and fascinating.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and peeled back the sleeve of my sweatshirt to the practice cuts along my arm. Ones I’d been too scared to deepen with the blade. And before I could stop myself, I said the first name that popped into head my.

My mother’s boyfriend. Pigman.

* * *

With a cigarette in one hand, I stared down at the faint skinny white line on my forearm, while rubbing my hand over the short crop of hair atop my head. It’d begun to grow back slowly, but still served as a reminder of my time spent with Tesarik.

How Dmitry hated his rival. Of course, I hadn’t learned of Dmitry’s business dealings until much later, hadn’t known those meetings held in his office had often been some poor sap’s death warrant. He’d long plotted the day he’d take down Tesarik’s entire empire.

If only his pride hadn’t been his one damning flaw.

As for my mother’s boyfriend, he’d shown up at our trailer a week later with grisly burns to the entire right side of his face, where Aleksey had held his cheek to a stove. Another of Dmitry’s confessions.

Headlights sliced through the darkness, and I peered over the balcony to see Dax’s car turning into the parking lot. Scrambling to my feet, I ignored the hum of my pulse, the war drum beating through my bones at the thought of having Jasper laid out beneath my blade. I shuffled back into the apartment and paced, biting my nails between drags of my cigarette. Seconds ticked off as Dax climbed the staircase. He didn’t look at me, while he pushed through the door into the small, studio apartment.

Eyes spacey and distant, clearly troubled in the way his brows dipped above them, he ran his hand through his hair. He’d seen exactly what I’d warned him about.

I gave him a moment to gather his thoughts and took a seat beside the door to the balcony. “You got inside.”

“Those girls … they don’t choose to be there. Some of them may go home after, but they’re not free.”

“They’re not.”

“And what’s to keep me from going back into that place and gunning it down? Blowing away every one of those motherfuckers.”

“Because you’ll die doing it. And for now, we know where to find it. We have a way in.”

“I have a way in. Do you have any idea how that feels? It’s like carrying the keys to hell.”

I didn’t even realize my hands had begun to tremble until I lifted the cigarette for another drag. “Where’s Jasper?”

“Somewhere no one will find him until I figure out what the hell to do with him.”