And I always protected my family.
Chapter 1
Levi
I’d always hatedthe rain as a child since it had meant being cooped up inside which, considering the household I’d grown up in, had been akin to torture. But after having spent more than three years of my life not being able to do something as simple as feeling the rain on my skin if I wanted to, I doubted I’d ever have a problem with slogging through the torrential downpours or heavy blankets of mist that Seattle was dually known for. Besides, it made the sensation of the sun warming my skin all the sweeter.
One good thing about the rain was that it meant I’d be less likely to encounter trouble once I set foot outside my apartment.
And by trouble, I was talking about actual Trouble.
With a capital T.
How the guy had figured giving himself the nickname “Trouble” would make him seem tough was beyond me, but apparently, he hadn’t relied on the stupid name alone to gain the street cred he’d needed to make a name for himself. And clearly, I wasn’t the only one who thought the name was ridiculous because just about everyone called him T.
Even his big brother, Gun.
Yep, that washisactual name. Though I’d been told Gun wasshort for Gunnar which was a Swedish name. Since I didn’t even know where to find Sweden on a map, I’d had to take my cellmate Hank’s word for it that Gun’s stark blond hair, sharp blue eyes and burly body were proof of his Scandinavian heritage. Not that any of that had mattered whenever Gun had cornered me in the shower.
I shivered as the memories washed over me and automatically scanned my surroundings again as I hurried down the sidewalk.
T, whose real name I’d heard through the rumor mill was Hugo, might not be as big as his older brother, but he was proving to be no less dangerous.
A lesson I’d learned within a month of walking out of Washington State Penitentiary after serving three and a half years of a five-year drug possession sentence. T had been waiting for me outside my apartment building. To this day, I still had no clue how he’d found me and when he’d shoved me up against the side of the building and slugged me, I hadn’t even known who he was. It had only been when he’d dragged me into the alley next to my building, pushed me to my knees and told me he had a message for me from Gun that I’d realized I’d walked out of one hell and into another.
That had been a year ago.
I’d been at T’s mercy ever since.
Except for when he was in jail. I kept hoping he’d be collared for something serious enough to send him to prison, but life wasn’t proving to be that kind. At most, he was gone for a couple of weeks at a time, once for an entire month. Every time I’d think maybe it was finally safe to take a deep breath, I’d round a corner and there he’d be.
Of course, it was no less than I deserved.
It was one of the many reasons I never prayed for things to change, though Father O’Shaughnessy had assured me repeatedly that God would be listening when I was ready to talk. I’d believed that line when I’d been a naïve kid begging God to bring my mother home or asking Him to make my dad and my older brother Ricky stop using drugs and alcohol long enough to keep from using me as their personal punching bag…and worse.
I didn’t believe in much anymore and especially not in things Icouldn’t see or feel. And even on the off chance that Father O could convince me that the same higher power existed who’d ignored so many pleas that night seven years ago, my own included, I wouldn’t be wasting His time asking for forgiveness for everything I’d done.
I didn’t deserve it.
Not from Him.
Not from the young man I’d helped make suffer in the cruelest of ways.
No, T was my well-earned penance. I deserved everything he did to me and then some. If I wasn’t such a fucking coward, I’d walk into the nearest police station and finally do what I should have done seven years ago.
Only, it wasn’t just about me anymore.
I found some relief from the rain when I reached the bus shelter. On most days, I’d just walk the fifteen blocks that took me from home to St. Anthony’s or work, but I was already running late after having had another row with Dina this morning. Our conversation had been proof that I needed to give up the evenings I spent at St. Anthony’s before I headed to work, but I was struggling with the idea of no longer volunteering at the soup kitchen Father O ran. Letting T punish my body did nothing to ease the burden on my soul. I knew helping feed a few dozen homeless people night after night wasn’t much, but it was one of only two bright spots in my life and I wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Though, if Dina had her way, giving up one bright spot was the only way to keep the other one.
Thankfully, the bus was on time and was mostly empty, so I didn’t have any trouble finding a seat.
“Hi Carl,” I said to the driver with a nod as I slid my metro card through the reader.
“Wasn’t sure I’d see you this afternoon,” the older man said. “It’s barely even drizzling out.”
I nearly smiled at that because it was most definitely more than drizzling, but for Seattle, the steady rain, though light, was pretty much a part of the city’s landscape, just like the Marketplace and the Space Needle. Only tourists would feel the need to escape the weather, either by using an umbrella or sticking to indoor activities.
“Running late,” I explained. “How’s Clarice?”
