Page 32 of The Price of My Sins

Bo moved ahead of me, unlocking one of the lockers and pulling out a matte black Glock. He checked it twice, then passed it to me, handle first. His eyes locked on mine as I took it.

“Bo… I told you I’m afraid of guns. My taser does me just fine.”

“Nah. That shit only good if a mothafucka is up on you. With what happened earlier, I’mma need you to learn how to use one of these. There are times that I won’t be around to protect you. Now, take the gun, O.” He grabbed my hand and placed the heavy metal in my palm.

With shaky hands, I gripped the handle and held it up with my finger on the trigger.

“Whoa! Don’t point that at me. It’s loaded.” Bo chuckled before quickly but coolly easing my hand downward. His palm covered mine, guiding it away from his chest with practiced ease. “Rule number one—never aim at anything you don’t plan on putting in the dirt.”

I giggled, half-embarrassed, half-thrilled. “Wow. Sorry. Holding it does make me feel powerful!”

Bo stepped beside me, arms crossing over his chest, one brow arched. “That’s ’cause it is powerful. But it ain’t just in the gun, O. It’s in you. The weapon’s just a tool. You’re the one in control.”

I stood in front of the target. “Feet shoulder-width. Good. Elbows slightly bent. Now… line up your shot.”

I inhaled, focusing on the silhouette target in front of me.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said softly. “Breathe. Trust yourself.”

My finger squeezed the trigger.

Pop!

The shot rang out, and my eyes widened as the paper flinched with impact—just a little off-center.

My grin spread wide. “Did I hit it?”

Bo leaned in, peering at the hole. “You damn sure did.”

“Yess. Blocka! Blocka!” I was hyped.

He chuckled.“Chill, killa. You're still a virgin.”

We ran a few more drills until my body ached in a good way. The controlled shots, smooth reloads, and precision strikes reminded me that I was alive, capable, and no longer frozen by fear.

Iwas sitting in a private room at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility, elbows on the cold steel table. The chair beneath me was uncomfortable as hell, but the thoughts running through my head kept me seated. I was waiting to see the woman responsible for my brother being six feet under, and nothing could get me to leave.

The walls were off-white, but there was nothing soft about them. They felt like they’d absorbed every scream, every confession, and every prayer that never made it past the ceiling. My foot tapped a slow rhythm on the concrete floor, steady and controlled. It was the only indication I wasn’t as calm as I looked.

Then the door opened. I didn’t flinch, but my chest tightened when Zora stepped inside. She moved cautiously like her legs had forgotten what freedom felt like, eyes darting around the room until they landed on me.

Her whole body froze. Her lips parted slightly, the air leaving her lungs. Her eyes went wide, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if she was going to collapse or turn around and run.

I licked my lips slowly, eyes dragging over her frame as she stepped more into the room. Even in the orange DOC-issued jumpsuit, Zora still had that damn presence that stopped everyman from moving on after first glance. Her curves jumped out even through state-issued fabric. Skin like polished bronze, smooth and glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights, she looked as if she’d been getting her daily dose of vitamin D. Her eyes, deep brown and sharp enough to cut through a man’s defenses if he stared too long, landed on me and never left.

Now I understood why my brother stayed tangled up in her, even when he should’ve walked away.

“Have a seat,” I said, voice low.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stayed near the wall. “I’ll stand. What do you want, Otis?”

Damn.

Zora still had that fire—that attitude. The same one that probably turned my brother on and maybe pushed him over the edge more than once.

I leaned back in my chair and let a smirk spread across my face. “Mmm. Still got that slick mouth, huh? I see why he had to check you sometimes.”

Her jaw clenched. A flicker of rage flashed across her face, but she didn’t bite. She just continued to stare through her now hardened eyes. She was daring me to come at her sideways again, and the cat-and-mouse games were assuming to me.

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