Page 7 of Judas
She deserved more than what I could give her and I hate myself and Kace more than she ever could.
Dipping my head forward, I rub my hands vigorously against my face then comb them back into my dark hair. A few strands started to turn silver from age. Hell, I’m forty-four now, I think. Somewhere in there I stopped caring about milestones like these. Hard to do so when you feel as fucking sorry for yourself as I do. I’m on the verge of menopause—a shock to my psyche but here I am anyway. Though I worry over something as trivial as getting older, poor Kace would have been fifty-five this year.
Old fucker.
Thinking about him brings a smile to my face, like it always does, but it’s quickly wiped away when some fuck rounds the corner. Filling the left edge of my vision and putting my nerves on edge. Some of the male guards in Bluitt would do the exact same thing, stare at a few of the female inmates. Lingering around like the scent of rotten twat, waiting and watching for us to be alone. My family knew better. We would never be alone in certain areas of the prison. Though guards never got a hold of me, It’s hard to shake the idea that one would ever want to put me back on my hands and knees.
This guy is asking for a beat down if he starts to get the same idea. I’ll leave him in a heap of blood and bone if he tries.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans himself against the wall, his ankles crossing with a smug little smirk on his face. Red flag number one, confidence. He’s a little on the thin side, inked to high heaven—the dark marks of it peeking out from his leather jacket and creeping up the sides of his neck, reaching his ears. Both of those pierced—of course. Messy dark hair, left and right nostrils pierced. Whoever this kid is, he needs to get gone, pronto. I lack all forms of patience, especially after dealing with Ra’s ass.
Turning away from him, I gaze out across the junk-littered property as it extends far behind the gas station and clashes with a thick tree line. From the corner of my eye, I can see the details of his dark-washed jeans and the deep blue shirt he has hidden under his jacket. Black boots that look as if they belong on the pegs of a Harley Davidson, then there’s the customary ‘player’ chain that hangs from his wallet tucked in his front pocket and attached to a belt loop.
He looks like a healthy version of Lucien—I hate him for it.
“You don’t fit.” He rumbles with the look of amusement on his face. Unraveling a hand to motion to our surroundings.
Thankfully he doesn’t sound like Lucien.
“Pity. I work hard to blend in with the garbage.”
He tilts his head back, laughs, and pushes away from the wall as he closes the distance. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter—quickly placing one between his lips and lighting up. Still refusing to look at him, even as he creeps close.
When he’s only a few feet away, he plucks the stick from his mouth and hands it over—a peace offering perhaps. Smoke flooding from his pierced nostrils like a raging bull.
“He said you’d have a smart mouth on you.”
“Did he now? Nice to know he keeps thinking about me.”
This must be my ride.
“Yeah, he also told me to spank you but getting a good look, you might just kick my ass. Name’s Ez.”
“You’re smarter than him, at least. What kind of dumb ass name is ‘Ez’? We talking like, Eazy-E? Or ‘easy’ because you’re the nicer one?”
“You could say that. And it’s short for my full name. Keeps me… ya know, under the radar.” He says with a wink.
Player, definitely.
“You couldn’t fly under the radar if you covered yourself in mud and crawled through jungle brush.”
Ez chuckles and wiggles the cigarette at me again. Turning, I snatch it from him, pinning it between my own lips and suck in the hardest drag I can muster. The smoke burns my lungs the deeper, and longer, I pull and hold it in. Nicotine festering in my alveoli.
Fuck, that’s some good shit.
With a slow exhale, I blow the smoke out away from him and hand the rollie back to him. Giving my new annoyance a grateful nod of the head. This is the point when things should feel awkward, but we haven’t quite made it to that point yet.
“As much as I’d like to stand here and contemplate life, I was sent for a reason. I got a go-bag for you and a ride. It’s all gassed up and ready to go. In the bag you’ll find another cellphone which is encrypted, clothes, and a credit card that should get you where you need to go. I suggest moving your contacts over from the one you have and tossing it. You were very easy to track.”
He takes another few deep drags and drops the cig on the ground, stomping it out with the harsh toe of his boots.
“Unfortunately, seeing as how good of company you are, I won’t be able to ride along. So, we will be parting ways here.”
Ez, reaches into another pocket and pulls out a set of keys, jingling them, then throws them at me. Catching them in mid air, my body moves on its own until I am standing before him. Nearly having to set the back of my head on my shoulder blades to look at the dude.
Fucking hell, he’s a tall bastard.
For a moment, unapologetically, I take him in. Well, what I can, because he’s massive compared to me. He’s got to be a good six foot seven or more. Two hundred pounds? Ez looks familiar, other than resembling Lucien, but I can’t really place him. Something about that nose of his and the way his mouth is shaped.
