Sherrilyn Kenyon: Infinity Chronicles of Nick

And he'd already read Hammer's Slammers until he could quote it.

Maybe if he apologized, she'd let him hang out at the club for the night.

So instead of turning right, he made a left and headed for her club on Bourbon Street. The faint sounds of jazz and zydeco music coming out of stores and restaurants soothed him.

Closing his eyes as he walked, he inhaled the sweet smell of cinnamon and gumbo as he passed the Cafe Pontalba. His stomach rumbled. Since he hadn't been at school, his lunch had consisted of more powdered eggs and bacon, and he had yet to eat dinner . which would be those nasty eggs again.

Not wanting to think about that, he walked down the narrow alley to the back door of the club and knocked.

John Chartier, one of the huge burly bouncers who watched out for the dancers, opened it with a fierce frown—until he saw Nick. A wide smile spread over his face. "Hey, buddy. You here to see your mom?"

"Yeah. Is she on stage yet?"

"Nah, she's still got a few minutes." He stood back so that Nick could walk down the dark back hallway to the green room.

He paused at the door to the room where the dancers dressed and rested between performances, and knocked.

Tiffany answered. Absolutely stunning, she was tall and blond ... and barely dressed in a G-string and lacy top.

Even though he'd been raised around women dressed like that and was used to it, his face flamed bright red as he kept his gaze on the floor. It was like seeing his sister naked.

Tiffany laughed, cupping his chin in her hand. "Cherise? It's your Nicky." She squeezed his chin affectionately. "You're so sweet the way you won't look at us. I knew it was you when you knocked. No one else is so nice. All I can say is your mama is raising you right."

Nick mumbled a thank-you as he stepped past her and made his way to his mom's dressing station. He kept his gaze down until he was sure his mom was covered by her pink bathrobe.

But when he caught her furious glare in the chipped mirror where she was putting on her makeup, his stomach hit the floor. There was no forgiveness in that face tonight.

"I thought I told you to go straight home."

"I wanted to say I was sorry again."

She put down her mascara wand. "No, you didn't. You wanted to try and make me tell you that you didn't have to stay on restriction. I won't have it, Nicholas Ambrosius Gautier. And your paltry apology doesn't change the fact that you knew better. You have to learn to think before you act. That temper of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day. Just like it did your father. Now go home and contemplate what you did and how wrong it was."

"But Mom—"

"Don't 'but Mom' me. Go!"

"Cherise!" her handler shouted, letting her know it was time to go on stage.

She stood up. "I mean it, Nick. Go home."

Nick turned around and left the club, feeling even worse than he had when he'd left Liza's.

Why wouldn't his mom believe in him?

Why couldn't she see that he wasn't trying to play her?

Whatever ... He was tired of trying to convince the world, and especially his mom, that he wasn't worthless.

On the street, he headed down Bourbon toward Canal, where he could pick up a closer streetcar. He hated when his mom treated him like a criminal. He was not his father. He would never be like that man.

Fine, Ill never protect your honor again. Let them insult and mock you. See if I care. Why should he bother when doing the right thing made her so mad at him?

Angry, hurt, and disgusted, he heard someone call his name.

Pausing, he saw Tyree, Alan, and Mike across the street, hanging outside a tourist bead and mask store. They waved him over.

Nick crossed the street to tap his fist against theirs. "What's up?"

Tyree leaned his head back in silent salute to him. "Hanging. What you doing?" "Heading home."

Tyree slapped at the collar of Nick's orange shirt. "Boy, what you got on? That shit's hideous."

Nick slapped his hand away. "Clothes. What's that crap you got on and what truck did it fall off of?"

Tyree snorted and preened. "These my Romeo threads. They make all the ladies call me tasty."

Nick scoffed. "Tasty-crazy. Them ain't no Romeo duds. Those fashions by Geek Street."

They all laughed.

Mike sobered. "Look, we got a thing tonight and we could use a fourth. You want in? It should be worth a couple hundred dollars to you."

Nick's eyes widened at the sum. That was a lot of money. Tyree, Mike, and Alan were hustlers. Though his mom would have a stroke if she ever found out, he'd been known to help them a time or two when they'd scammed locals and tourists. "Pool, poker, or craps?"

Alan and Tyree exchanged an amused look. "This is more a job of watchdog. At least for you. We got the big boss from Storyville who's paying us to shake down some deadbeats. It'll only take a couple of minutes."

Nick screwed his face up. "I don't know about that."

Tyree tsked. "C'mon, Nick. We don't have much time before we have to be there and we really need someone to watch the street. Five minutes and you'll make more money than working a month for that old lady."

Nick looked back toward his mom's club. Normally, he'd have told them to forget it, but right now ...

If everyone's going to call me a worthless delinquent, I might as well be one.

'Cause living right sure wasn't paying off for him. "You sure it's five minutes?"

Tyree nodded. "Absolutely. In and out and we're done."

Then he could be home and his mom wouldn't be the wiser. For once, he enjoyed the thought of sticking it to her, even though she would never know about it. "All right. I'm in."

"Good man."

Nick looked at Alan, who was nineteen. "Can you guys give me a ride home after?" "For you, boy? Anything."

Nodding, Nick followed them over to a seedy part of North Rampart. Tyree put him on the street, blocking an alley.

"You stay right here and watch for the Five-O. Let us know if you see anyone."

Nick inclined his head to him.

They vanished into the shadows while he stood there, waiting. After a few minutes, an old couple walked past him on the sidewalk. By their dress and manners, he could tell they were tourists just taking a late stroll off the beaten path.

"Hi there," the woman said to him, smiling.

"Hi." Nick returned the expression. But his smile died an instant later when Alan leapt out of the shadows to grab the woman while Tyree knocked the man into a wall.

Nick was stunned. "What are you doing?"

"Shut up!" Alan snarled, pulling out a gun. "All right, grandpa. Give us your money or the old ho gets it right between her eyes."

Nick felt the color drain from his face. This couldn't be happening. They were mugging two tourists? And I'm helping____

For a full minute he couldn't breathe as he watched the woman cry and the man beg them not to hurt her.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he grabbed Alan's hand that held the gun and knocked it away. "Run!" he shouted at the couple.

They did.

Tyree started after them, but Nick tackled him to the ground.

Alan caught him by the collar of his shirt and jerked him back. "Man, what are you doing?"

Nick shoved him. "I can't let you mug someone. That wasn't the deal."

"You stupid ." Alan hit him in the face with the gun.

Pain exploded in Nick's skull as he tasted blood.

"You're going to pay for that, Gautier."

The three of them descended on him so fast and furious that he couldn't even see to fight back. One minute he was standing and the next he was on the ground with his arms wrapped around his head to protect it from the gun Alan was beating him with. They stomped and beat on him until he lost all feeling in his legs and one arm.

Alan stepped back and angled the gun on him. "Say your prayers, Gautier. You're about to become a statistic."