Jeff Shelby - Wicked Break

I was glad I had told Wellton about the guns in Linc’s apartment, because I felt confident that Linc would’ve somehow screwed up getting rid of the guns.

“So now what?” I finally asked. “You said you need my help. You want to escape? Get away from these guys?”

His head snapped up, anger back on his face. “That’s what you got from all this? That I’m just some scared kid who doesn’t want to get hurt?”

I said nothing because that was exactly what I thought.

He stood. “I don’t wanna hide from them anymore, you asshole. Those fuckin’ skinheads killed my brother and they killed Malia. As far as I’m concerned, they killed my father, too. Fuck them and their money.”

“What do you want, then?” I asked.

“I want you to help me finish this,” Linc Pluto said, his voice full of anger, back to where it was when I’d first sat him on the couch. “Finish them.”

“I’m not gonna help you kill anyone,” I said.

Linc stared hard at me for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what I was saying. Then he shrugged. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I don’t need your help.”

I stood. “Yeah, you do.”

He sneered. “Oh, right. You’ve done such a bang up job so far on all this.”

The sympathy that I’d been feeling for the kid for the last few minutes was quickly shifting into anger. “And if your brother had been smart and just left you alone, I wouldn’t have been dragged into any of this.”

He turned away from me. “Fuck off.”

I grabbed his arm and spun him back. “Hey. You think I don’t feel bad about what’s happened? To your brother and Malia and Rachel? I do. And I wanna get it set straight. But you hunting down a bunch of assholes and killing them does nothing. For anyone.”

“Does for me,” he said, and lunged at me with his free arm.

His fist glanced off my shoulder. I slid my hand down to his wrist and twisted hard. His face screwed up into a knot of pain and I kicked his legs out from under him. He landed with a thud, the air rushing out of his chest.

“You can’t even take me out,” I said. “And I’m not even close to being as dangerous as Mo or Deacon or any of those other guys.”

The adrenaline surge made my skin tingle. I watched Linc lay on the floor and try to get his breath back. He was wincing, the pain in his back probably surprising him. Landing flat on your spine will do that.

“The best place for you is somewhere safe,” I said.

He grunted. “Where’s that?”

I ignored the question. “I will take care of this,” I said. “I’m better equipped.”

“You weren’t yesterday. You couldn’t save Malia.”

I resisted the urge to plant my foot in his ribs. “Neither could you, asshole. However, I will make sure Lonnie and Mo pay for what they did to Peter and Malia. And I will make sure that Deacon and his boys back off.”

“I can do it myself,” he said, sounding like a four-year-old trying to use a fork for the first time.

“No, you can’t,” I said.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, reaching around to rub his back. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care?” he asked. “My brother hired you. He’s…gone. It’s none of your business anymore.”

Lonnie and Mo had made it my business, but I didn’t feel the need to explain that to Linc.

“I promised your aunt,” I said, telling him part of the truth. “I told her I’d find you.”

“You did that.”

“My promises are all-inclusive. Finding you means keeping you safe.”

“I can keep myself safe.”

“Really? That why you’re hiding out here? That why you were hiding behind Malia’s door when I showed up?”

His chin dropped and he looked away from me, his jaw locked tight.

I sat down in the chair. “Linc, I’m not trying to embarrass you. But you’re in over your head right now. You’ve told me as much. I’ll clean it up. It’s what I do.”

He picked at his shoelaces, his head still hung. He looked like a puppy that wasn’t sure how to grow up.

“They killed my brother and my girlfriend,” he said quietly. “I’m not gonna let that go.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you that I will take care of it. It’s better that way.”

He grunted and then looked up at me, confusion and frustration on his face. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

This was the part I didn’t know how to explain to him yet.

“I’m gonna put you someplace where no one can get to you,” I said, pulling out my cell phone.

He smirked. “Where? The Arctic Circle?”

I scrolled through the phone book, looking for the number I wanted. “A lot closer than that.”

The smirk changed to wariness. “Where?”

“Jail,” I said.

“What the fuck?” Linc said, leaping to his feet and knocking the phone out of my hand.

Lunging out of the chair, I caught Linc right in the sternum and shoved him backward. His head popped back when he hit the sofa and cracked against the wall. Before he had a chance to recover, I rolled him over onto his stomach and put my knee into his back. A holding cell was the safest place for him right now, even if he didn’t understand that.

“Linc, trust me,” I said

“Yeah, Linc. Trust the homeboy,” a voice said behind us.

I turned around.

Deacon and Wesley were standing in the doorway, each armed and smiling like they’d won the lottery.

Deacon jerked his head at Wesley. “Check the rest of the place.”

Wesley dutifully moved out of the room with his TEC-9 and disappeared into the back of the house.

“Bring it out,” Deacon said to me, fixing a massive handgun on me. “Slow.”

I moved off of Linc and reached around to my waistband, pulling out my Glock.

“Lay it down.”

I did.

He looked at Linc. “You been runnin’ from me, boy.”

Linc rolled over and stared at him, no fear or anger on his face. Just resolution.

“But you knew I’d catch you,” Deacon said, smiling at him. “One of my boys was watching your crib this morning, and damn if he don’t see some dude look just like you hauling ass outta there.” His smile got bigger. “Can’t nobody run from me.”

“Empty,” Wesley said, coming back into the room. “Some guns are back here, though.”

They were smart. Deacon stood by the front door and Wesley stood behind us. We were in the middle and cut off from any exit.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” I said, looking to buy a little time and try to throw him off track.

Rage bubbled up in his eyes. “Fuck you, you motherfucker. Don’t talk about my sister.”

“I tried to help her,” I said.

“Great fuckin’ job.”

“He tried to help her,” Linc said. “We both did.”

Deacon’s eyes shot fury in Linc’s direction. “You didn’t fuckin’ help my sister, you white cocksucker. It was your goddamn fault that she ended up like she did.”

“I didn’t want it that way,” Linc said. “I didn’t. I just wanted to be with her.”

“You are so fucked up, boy,” Deacon said. “I mean, so fucked up, okay? You think I was gonna let my sister date a little piece of shit like you? For real?”

Linc stayed quiet.

“She didn’t need you screwing her up, man,” Deacon continued. “She was gonna do something, alright? Get the fuck out of our ghetto house and do something with her life. But then you went and got all gigolo on her. And now she’s dead, motherfucker. Dead like you’re gonna be.”

Linc stared at the floor. “I loved her.”

Deacon took a step toward him, his muscles rigid. “What, motherfucker?”