Page 48 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

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Eric

“Oy, Captain!”

I slow my steps and turn toward Mac’s shouting voice. With my hands in my pockets and my hat pulled low so the flaps cover my ears from the fall breeze, I stop at the midway point between the garage and the diner. It’s only a couple blocks between the two, just a couple minutes to walk from home to heaven.

I still taste this kid’s mom on my tongue. My stomach is still knotted because of her, but at the same time, mellowed the fuck out. I came twice in our hour last night, once on her luscious tits, and the other while wrapped in her warmth. And now I find myself facing her kid when the sun has barely come up.

It’s… weird.

“Hey, Mac.” I stop in place and wait for him to catch up. His hair is still weird as hell, his clothes still too big, and his limp much more obvious when he jogs. As soon as he’s by my side, I turn and slowly continue toward the diner. “Why do you call me captain?”

“‘Cause the other guys do.” He makes theduheyes. “They call you Cap, right?”

“Right. But they’re my friends from a different world. That word has a different meaning to them. You could just call me Eric.” I shrug. “I mean, it’s not a big deal.”

He flashes a smartass grin. “I could call you FuckWhit. It rhymes with DeWhit, did you know that?”

“Nope.” I purse my lips. “I had no clue that rhymes. Not one single kid tried that shit with me in school.”

His chest bounces with silent laughter. “So I’ll call you Captain. It’s kinda fun anyway.”

“Whatever. What are you doing out here? And why do you limp like that?”

“Like what?” Dramatically, he snaps his legs straight and walks in an A-frame. “This is how everyone walks. Maybe you’re the weirdo.”

“Maybe you have a sickness that prevents you from speaking unless it’s with sarcasm. Is there a block between your mouth and brain? Did your mom drop you when you were a baby?”

“Ya know, she probably did. But I doubt it’s related. I’m just so awesome, I can’t keep it all contained. My brilliance drips from my pores.”

“Like sweat?”

“Exactly!” He swings an arm out and smacks my shoulder, smarting the bruised muscle and making me miss a step. “I don’t sweat at training. I leak awesome all over the place.”

“Sounds unsanitary.”

He chuckles. “Only if you don’t wanna be awesome like me.” Walking normally again, he forces me to turn a block too soon, an attempt, I suspect, to make our trip last longer. “No, I busted my leg real bad a while back. I was being a dick, playing at the old steel mill with Benny and the girls. It was hot as hell in there, sweaty.”

“I thought you don’t sweat?”

“Shut up.” His dimples pop and make him look younger than he is. I forget sometimes that he’s only fourteen. That he’s a child, despite his swearing and pimping ways. “It was hot; the place was kinda steamy, so there was like a film of moisture everywhere. I was walking along the gantry crane and slipped. Fell twenty feet and cracked my brains open.”

My steps falter as I look at his head. “No shit?”

“Shit. Cracked my cranium, broke my leg, busted myself up kinda bad. My poor mom nearly died that day, I scared her so bad.”

“I bet she did.”

“Anyway, surgery and rehab got me standing again. I still go to appointments once a week to get my walk back to normal, and sometimes I take pain meds if my leg hurts too bad. But I try to minimize those. I don’t like taking them.”

His father’s face flashes through my mind. Slurred words. Pockmarked skin. Cloudy eyes. “You worried about addiction?”

“Nah. But they’re expensive as fuck. My mom can’t afford shit like that, so I try to walk it off most of the time. And on the other days when I’m not busy with school or PT, I fight at the gym, which helps too. Contrary to my mother’s belief,” he adds dryly, “fighting helps me loosen up. She thinks I’ll break my leg again, but I won’t. Training keeps me warm and limber, so I like it there, plus their gym doc keeps an eye on me. She rubs my leg down most days, which really helps. She’s a freakin’ angel, and she’s hot too.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re talking about Andi Conner? Officer Cruz’s girl?”

“Uh-huh. She wears booty shorts almost all the time,” he snickers. “I mean, a guy can appreciate nice legs, right? I’m not hurting anybody. But I don’t talk to Ben about that. He’d snap my neck.”

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