I shrugged. “Needed a place to land.”
He wasn’t having it. “Nobody just lands here. Not unless they’re running, or chasing something.”
I thought about lying. I really did. But something in his face made me try the truth instead, or at least a version of it.
“I’ve been running a long time,” I said. “Looking to stop.”
Vin grunted, a sound halfway between approval and suspicion. “You got a record?”
“Sealed juvenile shit. Some other stuff in the wind.”
“Ever kill a man?”
I thought about that one, then nodded. “Once. Self-defense.”
He didn’t blink. “Could you do it again?”
I shrugged. “If I had to.”
He smiled, and this time it was real, a big wolfy grin that showed every tooth. “I like you, Axel. You don’t waste my time.”He stood up and extended a hand. His palm was calloused, fingers thick and scarred.
“Welcome to the Royal Bastards, prospect,” he said. “Don’t fuck it up.”
I took the handshake. It was a small war in itself.
Vin held my gaze a beat longer, then dropped my hand and pointed at the safe. “First job’s tomorrow. Be here at seven sharp. Red’ll show you the ropes.”
He started to leave, but paused in the doorway. “One more thing. Whatever you’re running from? Don’t bring it here.”
I nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He disappeared down the hall, boots thudding like distant thunder.
I sat there alone, staring at the table, the maps, the photos of dead-eyed men who’d made the same bargain.
Red found me in the hall, one hand clutching a cigarette, the other perched on her hip like she owned the place. She jerked her head toward the stairs. “Up. Vin says you bunk above the bar. Follow me.”
We climbed a narrow, sagging staircase. The carpet was threadbare, flecked with cigarette burns and something stickier. She walked two steps ahead, not looking back but never out of earshot. At the top, she shouldered open a door with peeling paint and flicked on the light.
The room was exactly what you’d expect, a single bed with springs that screamed at a sideways glance, sheets so thin you could read a newspaper through them, a dresser that had seen more violence than I had, and a window with a view of the parking lot and nothing else. The place reeked of old cigarettes, but it was cleaner than most flophouses I’d called home.
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” Red said. She didn’t step inside. “Don’t get ideas about locking your door. Vin likes to check up on prospects.”
I dropped my duffel on the mattress, which sagged in the middle. “Duly noted.”
She hovered in the doorway, arms folded. “Don’t make me regret vouching for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You vouched for me?”
She grinned, sharp and crooked. “Nobody breaks Donny’s nose and stays inside unless I say so. Consider this a trial run, sugar.”
I liked the way she said sugar. It had more poison than honey.
I unzipped my bag and started unpacking. Three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, a toothbrush, and a K-bar in a leather sheath. The last thing was a dog-eared photo, the face so faded it was almost gone. I tucked it under the mattress, out of sight.
She watched, silent, eyes narrowing a little at the knife.
“What’s your story, anyway?” she asked, softer now.
