Behind me, Disco screams one last time.
“¡Pendejo!”
Nobody argues.
Chapter 6
Shady
Lady walks out of Vice Ink with Darling’s hand locked around hers, and every bad thing in me wants to follow.
Not walk.
Not ask.
Follow.
Drag.
Claim.
Put her in my room, lock the door, and stand between her and the whole ugly city until Miami chokes on its own smoke before it touches her again.
That’s the problem.
The thing inside me that wants to protect her sounds a hell of a lot like the thing she is running from.
You saved me from them. Now I need to save myself from you.
Those words stay in the room after she leaves. They hang in the stained-glass light and the smoke and the blood smell. Like Vice Ink has always been a church for men learning too late what their hands have ruined.
The back door shuts.
Disco screams from the bar. “¡Pendejo! ¡Dale!”
“Yeah,” I mutter, staring at the door. “No shit, bird.”
Diablo orders, “Cage the damn bird and take him wherever Darling is headed.”
My boots move.
One step.
That is all I get before Diablo’s hand lands in the center of my chest.
Hard.
I look down at it.
Then at him.
“Move.”
“No.”
The word is quiet.
That makes it worse.
