I think he’s always known that I didn’t get into this line of work because of a drug addiction or gambling debt. I’d wager to say he pities me for getting involved with Franklin but understands what I’m doing it for. And with that, he doesn’t shit on me like all the other guys do.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen Josey be a complete badass and knock the crap out of some dudes, but he’s got this gentle giant kind of thing going on. He only seems to crack heads when it’s absolutely necessary.
And from what I’ve heard, he was born into this line of work. He didn’t really have a choice. Going against his obligations would be going against family, and to his bloodline, that’s a deadly sin.
At least I have the possibility of getting out of this—if I can stay alive long enough.
* * *
Iarrive back at the complex without catching anyone’s attention. I blend in reasonably well. Most people are too occupied on their cell phones to even notice when I walk by them. It makes my job that much easier. I wear clothes that are inconspicuous and try to make it difficult to pick me out of a lineup. There is no shortage of brown-haired guys running around this area. I’m just another one of the many.
I punch my code into the keypad and head through the courtyard. Picnic tables sit empty the way they normally do. Between the number of flight attendants that live in this building and the rest of the working class, the recreational space isn’t usually occupied.
I run up the stairs at a pace that allows me to be careful not to drop the package tucked into my jeans. I turn the corner toward my door and my eyes catch on an unfamiliar brunette walking into Beth’s place.
As if sensing my presence, the girl looks over her shoulder at me.
It’s the girl from earlier. Those same sky-blue eyes pierce through me the way they did not too long ago. It stops me in my tracks, and I find myself dumbfounded at my inability to walk the extra two steps to my apartment. I want to speak up, to tell her that I’m sorry, that I’m not usually like that, but I can’t.
I’m frozen in place.
She narrows her gaze at me and turns around, sort of slamming the door shut behind her, putting something solid between her and the douchebag that ran into her.
In reality, she’s doing us both a favor. Her hating me right off the bat means there’s no way I can tangle her up in this nightmare I’m living. I’m getting good at this whole bad-guy thing, and I’ll continue to play that role as long as it advances me in this dangerous game.