One Night of Sin

They followed him inside, where the smell of marijuana got stronger. “You’re smoking weed again?” Gage couldn’t hide his disapproval.

Denny was ahead of them so his face was hidden from view, but his shoulders sagged at the accusation. “No, Gage, I’m not smoking weed again. I’m also not drinking, mainlining H, popping E and acid, or smoking crack. I’m clean, just like I’ve been for the last three months.”

No bitterness in his voice, just tired resignation. He led them to the living room, where Gage noticed all the windows had been cranked open to let in fresh air. His brother went to sit on the couch, but Gage remained standing. Skyler ended up in the plaid upholstered recliner, timidly crossing her legs together.

Nobody spoke for several long moments. As Gage stared at his kid brother, an eddy of familiar emotions churned in his gut. Disappointment, sorrow, pain, disgust. Despite the seven-year age difference between the brothers, their resemblance was uncanny, especially now that Denny had stopped poisoning his body and was no longer gaunt and sickly looking. They both had the same gray eyes and dark hair, just like their old man.

Only while Gage was nothing like their father, Denny had certainly followed in Bobby Holt’s self-destructive footsteps. Smoking weed by the time he was thirteen, addicted to crack by seventeen, graduating to heroin at twenty. And everything got substantially worse when Denny went to work for O’Donnell’s crew. Addicts had no business selling drugs, and Mitch O’Donnell had pounced on the opportunity to capitalize on Denny’s weakness.

“I won’t bother with small talk or pretend you’re here to shoot the shit with your kid brother,” Denny said. “Mitch sent some of his thugs over about an hour ago.”

Gage’s stomach went rigid. “Yeah? What’d they want?”

“According to them? Just to say hi.” Denny didn’t sound convinced, and neither was Gage. “It was Paddy and Roy—you remember them, right? They showed up at my door, acting like we were long-lost bros.”

“You let them in?”

Denny gave an uneasy nod. “Didn’t have much of a choice. They pretty much walked inside like they’d been invited. But they didn’t stay long. Lit up a couple of joints, cracked some jokes, filled me in on what’s been happening with the old crew.” He paused. “Roy had heroin on him. They tried to get me to use.”

Hot fury boiled in Gage’s gut. Fucking sons of bitches.

“And before you assume the worst, I said no. They kept poking and prodding, using that peer pressure bullshit, bringing up old times. I stood my ground, told them I was sober now, and they left.”

Other people might have felt a burst of pride that Denny had resisted temptation, but not Gage. It was too late for pride. Denny could be clean for the next fifty years of his life, and it still wouldn’t erase all the shit he’d put Gage through.

“I think they were trying to knock me off the wagon.” Denny sounded sad, broken even.

“Why would anyone do that?” Skyler blurted out. “Deliberately try to tempt an addict—you are an addict, right?” When Denny nodded, her eyes flashed with anger. “That’s just cruel.”

“That’s Mitch for you,” Gage’s brother muttered.

“Who’s Mitch?” Her tentative question lingered in the air, spurring Denny to glance at Gage in surprise.

“She doesn’t know?”

He shrugged.

“Any of it?” Denny prompted.

“We only recently met,” Gage said gruffly. “I hadn’t gotten around to it.”

He felt her watching him but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. His jaw had clenched so tight his molars ached. Fuck. Bringing Skyler had been a mistake. He should have followed his instincts and stuck to his guns, damn it. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t want her involved.

Unfortunately, his brother took it upon himself to involve her. “Mitch O’Donnell runs the drug game in Southie,” Denny said grimly. “I used to deal for him.”

“Oh.”

Gage swallowed his rage. He hated that Skyler had to hear any of this. Hell, he could practically see his darkness oozing toward her like a puddle of black tar. He should’ve known better than to show her this part of his life.

“He’s also a fight promoter and part owner of the arena where Gage fights,” Denny added.

Skyler wrinkled her brow as she turned to Gage. “You fight for a drug dealer?”

He sighed. “O’Donnell is a respectable business owner on paper. And I don’t fight for him. I’m just repaying a debt.”

“My debt,” Denny supplied in a sour voice. “I messed up, and now Gage is paying the price.”

Skyler’s confusion seemed to heighten. “What did you do?”

Gage took an abrupt step toward the doorway. “We should go. Denny, thanks for giving me the heads-up about—”

“I stole from Mitch,” Denny cut in, focused wholly on Skyler. “I was a pathetic junkie and I smoked a shipment instead of selling it. And when you steal from O’Donnell, you don’t get a slap on the wrist. You get cement shoes at the bottom of the harbor.”

She looked alarmed. “He threatened you?”

“Of course.” Denny’s voice cracked. “But Gage struck a deal for me.”

He felt those big blue eyes on his face again. “He’s making you fight?” Skyler said in horror.