Page 124 of The Locksmith's Promise

“We’ve got you.”

I began to laugh.

Miller leaned back. Tilting his head to the side, eyebrows raised, he studied me warily. “You okay, there, fucker?”

This only made me laugh harder.

“Your bedside manner needs some work, man,” Eric chimed in.

“He never was any good in that department,” John agreed. “Remember the woman who went into labour?”

Eric laughed. “He told her to relax, and she beaned him over the fucking head.”

Keith grasped my shoulder. His throat working hard, he couldn’t speak.

Sarge leveled me with his stare. “You good, son?”

I nodded.

“Okay.” John stepped back and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Time to get this show on the road.”

Eric shook his head and huffed out a sharp laugh as he herded all of us backward. “Look away, Sarge.”

Keith took one look at what John carried in his hand and slapped a hand on top of his own head.

Sarge gaped. “Aw, for fuck’s sake.” His gaze sharpened on John’s grinning face. “I fucking knew it was you who set the old barn on fire.”

John’s eyes bugged out as he spread his arms wide. “Sarge! They were running a dog-fighting ring!”

“Took me four weeks to round up all those critters,” he grumbled, walking away. “So, Keith. Tell me. How’s the missus?”

Keith grinned. “This how we’re playing it?”

Sarge looked me straight in the face before answering. “They deserve this. All four of them.” Giving me a short nod, he ordered, “Bury him.”

And then it was just me, Miller, John, and Eric.

As it always had been.

Sleeping in their beds while they took the floor.

Their mothers feeding me.

Taking me in on the nights I couldn’t go home.

Paying for my fucking school fees.

I swallowed.

“I love you guys.”

Something that sounded suspiciously like a sob broke from John’s throat.

“And I love your moms,” I continued tightly.

“So not the time for a ‘your mom’ joke,” Eric rasped, handing me the lighter.

John handed me a bottle stuffed with an old rag. “Light her up, man.”

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