Page 48 of 23 Hours

Nobody replies.

Two more knocks—an ominous racket compared to the quiet of the room.

“Yes?” I speak louder.

Silence.

Leaving the chamomile to steep, I approach the entrance.

Knock. Knock. Knock—slow and steady.

Knock.A definitive finale.

I poise my hand on the knob and lift onto my toes to glance through the peephole. A shadow passes, yet I make nothing out.

“Hello?” I try one last time.

“Ma’am?”

A sigh of relief deflates the tension in my shoulders as I recognize the voice—my neighbor.

Unlocking the door to see if something is wrong, I open my mouth to ask as much, when a bloodied face comes into view. Rivulets of crimson pour down his battered face, soaking into the white of his shirt.

My eyes widen. “Oh. My. God. Are you okay?!”

Only he’s not.

His entire body free falls into my door, knocking it wide open as he collapses to the floor inside my apartment.

I don’t…

What… the…

“It’s like takin’ candy from a baby,” a familiar voice cackles like a villain.

Then… darkness.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

GUNZ

Kneeling at the end of a cot, I rest a tiny, purple teddy bear upright on a little girl’s legs. She couldn’t be any older than eight, maybe nine. We found five women and children dead in the hotel we raided today. Fucking five. Violated, bruised, anddead. With nobody to hold them and tell them they were gonna be okay. Not like this shaky kid with brown, matted hair. The unfortunate thing looks at me with big green eyes and back to the bear, no doubt checking to see if I’m playing some sick-and-twisted game.

To prove I’m not a threat, I get down on both knees and sit back. Ain’t none of us here gonna harm her or any of the survivors. Twelve were saved from the shithole. It’s a start. Not good enough, but better than nothing.

Ten tiny fingers wring together as she overthinks about the stuffed present I’ve brought. Does she want it? Should she? What’s the catch? I get it. My childhood might not have been the same, but you question everyone and everything when you’ve been abused. A big, bald, biker dude with tattoos sitting at the end of your bed isn’t the most comforting. It will be, though. She’ll learn soon enough. They all do. It takes time to earn trust.

“Go on.” I lift my chin. “All yours, kid. You’re safe now.”

With a single glance over me and the room full of those we saved, she then watches my brothers mill about, handing out blankets, food, and clothes to the others. Our safe house tonight was a godsend. A friend of Bulk’s old lady opened her outdated farmhouse to us, no questions asked. It’s big enough to hold everyone for the night, before my brother Bonez finds stable homes for these women and children tomorrow.

The girl’s nose twitches in distaste when she spies Blimp and his ugly beard carrying an armful of juice boxes out from the kitchen.

“He’s not the best lookin’, huh?” I snicker.

The tiniest grin forms at the crook of her mouth and vanishes a moment later. It’s fucking beautiful. I’ll take what I can get.

Rounding the room, Blimp offers juice to the survivors. The girl grows antsier the closer he gets, clawing at the blanket on her lap. I wave for him to skip her cot when he delivers a box to her neighbor. A look of understanding exchanges between us as he passes by. Blimp knows the drill. Some kids are more comfortable with certain people. Seems I’m one of those people. Most take to me easily enough. Not sure why. Probably the same reason I bonded with Bink so young and why Janie was happy to live with me. I’m the levelheaded asshole of the bunch, go figure. Well, most of the time.

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