Untamed

The gun in my hand leaves my arm feeling detached from my body. If this situation turns deadly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull the trigger. I’m not a killer, something I’ve quickly learned over the last few weeks.

Time moves at a snail’s pace. Nine o’clock comes and passes. The longer I wait, the more my fear amplifies. I swear I can actually smell death in the air. I should have never showed up. What the hell was I thinking? For all I know, Stale didn’t even send his guy to keep an eye on things. Wouldn’t be the first time. And what does it even matter if one of his men is here? Once Doc climbs in the car with me, it’ll only take a second for him to end my life.

I slump back in the seat, let my head flop back, and stare up at the ceiling. Another twenty minutes tick by before I lift my head back up and scan the vacant parking lot. Is a cop hiding in one of the cars? Or is it the same people watching Brooks?

A knock on the window sends me jumping in my seat. I whip the gun in the direction of the passenger seat as the door opens.

Doc sticks his head into the car, his brows dipping at the sight of the gun in my hand. “Relax,” he says, sliding into the passenger seat. “It’s just me.”

Like that makes me feel better.

My palms sweat as I lower the gun and set it on my lap. “Sorry… I’ve just been a little paranoid lately with all the shit going on.”

By shit, I mean the stuff Doc has been dragging me into. Drug deals gone awry, lives taken, robbery and assault. Over the course of a few weeks, I’ve seen more blood spilled than anyone should ever have to see.

Doc shuts the car door. “Being paranoid is understandable. I know I’ve been putting you through a lot lately, but you’ve been handling it well. Way better than a lot of the trainees.”

“I’m trying to be less edgy,” I sign, then reach for my cigarettes in my pocket. “I really am, but it’s hard.”

“I know it is, but I believe you’re going to make me proud one day. You’re always on time and do whatever you’re told. My hopes for you are high.”

I attempt to get a read on his vibe. He seems at ease, unlike someone who’s about to kill, which should calm me down. But Doc is a relaxed killer.

Doc removes his fedora and rubs his hand over the top of his head. “If only my son could have been like you. His life would have been so much easier for him.” With his finger, he draws a cross over his chest and utters something under his breath.

Silence fills the cab. I light the cigarette up and take a long drag, attempting to settle my nerves. I find it odd that Doc speaks of his son in past tense. He once told me that his son was a drug addict, and I watched Doc kill a drug dealer for selling his son drugs that ultimately put his son in a coma. His son’s still alive, though, not gone.

“Is everything all right?” I sign with the cigarette dangling between my lips.

“As fine as it always is.” His voice is sharp, but then he sighs and places the hat on his head. “Sorry, I’m just a little irritated. I’ve had a rough night.” He pauses, his gaze gliding to mine. “I just found out earlier today that one of our own has been working for the police.”

A ripple of panic rushes through me and my fingers itch for the gun, but Doc is watching my every move. Every single thing I do and say is going to weigh heavily on the outcome of the situation. One false move on my part, and I could end up dead.

“You know, there’s nothing in this world I hate more than a traitor,” he mumbles, removing his gun from the holster. “In my opinion, they’re the scum of the earth. Going against family like that…. Outing secrets that aren’t theirs to share. Family is blood, Ryler. And you never go against blood.” He smoothes his hand over the metal, and the silver catches sharply in the moonlight. “If I had my way, I’d off every single traitor.”

A chill slithers up my spine. “Who is the traitor?” My heart slams against my chest as I wait for his answer.

His stare is nearly unbearable. “Brooks Dellefondie.”

Shit. Brooks said he was being watched. Doc knows I speak to Brooks. What if he knows I’m an informant, too? If he does, then I’m dead where I sit. I’ll never see the light of day again.

Just like Brooks.

The thought strikes me like a fist to the stomach, and it takes all my effort not to shove the door open and hurl.

“Brooks? Really?” I gape at him, hoping I look shocked and that I’m not noticeably trembling.

“It was a real shock to me, too, especially for Doug Dellefondie who swears up and down he didn’t know about his son’s betrayal. It doesn’t really matter either way. It’s never a good thing to piss Donny off, and he’s fucking furious right now.” His eyes remain trained on me.

I flick my cigarette out the window. “What’s going to happen to them?”

“Brooks will be punished accordingly and so will his father. Doesn’t quite seem fair, though, that Doug has to pay for his son’s wrongdoings. Sometimes a father can try and try and try and yet their child still turns out to be a bad seed.” A faraway look crosses his expression, and I wonder if he’s thinking about his son. Or maybe even Emery.

I absentmindedly brush my finger across the scar on my throat, remembering one of the final times my foster father punished me—a branding iron to the throat that seared my voice into oblivion. What kind of punishment will Brooks have to endure? Will it be worse?