To this, Shooter shrugged. “Need any help?”

And from that day on, he did help.

Fifteen was a lot older in street years. And it was even older when you grew up with a father who used to beat the ever-loving shit out of you anytime he drank. Which was daily. Shooter was fifteen going on thirty. Sharp. Aware. With a surprising control over his emotions. Probably even more so than me. He was funny. Quick with a smartass remark. Even faster with a pickup line. And it always worked. He was a god damn teenage Cassanova.

And when he said he knew how to use a gun, well, it was an understatement. He was a junior champion shooter back in the Yellowhammer state. Best shot I had ever seen.

Until he was in his early twenties though, he worked for me. Helped me case jobs. Gather intel. Grab people if I thought I would have a problem. As he aged, he didn't get big and bulky like me, but his wiry thinness had it's own benefits in a fight.

Then, around the time he hit twenty-three, he decided it was time to branch out. Be his own man. It was a move I had been expecting for a while. And I had also been expecting what he would do.

When you had skills like his with a gun, well, what else would you get into but contract killing?

He took out big gigs- working for the mob or the other crime families, the empires, the big guys.

When it came to my jobs, I made bank.

Shooter made my income seem minuscule.

He sent his shit father a case of the finest scotch money could buy every month.

One could say he was still harboring some daddy issues.

And he had been, for all intents and purposes, the only family I had. A little brother. Someone I gave a fuck about.

And Lex Keith was holding him against me.

“Wanted me to pick up someone named Alex Miller,” I told Paine, snapping out of my memories. “Told me he'd give back Shooter in one piece if I did. So I agreed. The fuck didn't tell me that Alex Miller is a fuckin' chick.”

To this, Paine's shoulders fell. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Got her in the warehouse as we speak. I didn't get much in the way of instructions. Grab her. Hold her. Didn't say till when. Sounded like he wants to... do the dirty work himself,” I said, my words feeling venomous on my tongue.

“Can't let him have her,” Paine said, surprising me.

Paine, unlike me and Shoot, came from a good family. A poor one. With way too many kids in a two bedroom apartment in a shit area. But a good family. With a strong mother and grandmother. Three kickass aunts. And two little sisters. He had a strong, ingrained need to respect and protect women. So, yeah, while he used a lot of them for sex, he never so much as raised his voice to one or made promises or declarations he had no intentions to keep.

He knew exactly what Lex would have in store for Alex.

And no way would he be okay with that going down when it could be avoided.

Problem was, I didn't know how to avoid it.

“I agreed to get her some H so she could end it before he got to her.”

Paine's eyes slid from mine, looking out the window where the sun was starting to pierce through the sky.

“Look, you know I got love for Shoot,” he started, and I knew it was true.

Paine and I got tight just from knowing each other, frequenting the same watering holes, making bets on which one of us would land the hottest chick of the night (up to current times, we were pretty evenly matched). And when Shooter became a big part of my life, he by proxy became a big part of Paine's. It also didn't hurt that Shoot spent a large chunk of his income keeping Paine's tattoo business going. Shoot was a big fan of body modification- piercings (huge gauged ears, tongue piercing, then sometimes his lip, sometimes his nose. It varied. Then there was the ink. He was covered: arms, chest, back. He even had a tattoo of an eagle across the front of his neck, the wings spread out back toward his ears. Shoot spent a lot of time in Paine's chair. The two were close.

When Paine said he had love for Shoot, he meant it.

“But he's a grown ass man. He got into this business. He, like you, knew all the risks. And he looked them in the face and said, 'bring it mother fucker'. Now, this girl... this girl didn't make that choice. No matter how she got herself wrapped up with Lex, no way would it be a fair fight. She's innocent.”

He was right.

Fuck.

“I know that,” I said, pouring myself another round. A silence hung, both of us not sure what lines we were willing to cross. I spoke first. “She's a hacker. That's what she does. And she admitted to try to take him down.”

“Take him down with a computer?” he asked, his voice a mix of amused and disbelieving. “Mini armies haven't been able to take him down. Carting AKs and Molotov cocktails.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Those early days had been a mess. Cops everywhere. In everyone's business. I took out of town for a year, taking jobs on the other coast just to keep my ass off the radar. Shoot came with, still trying to build up a clientele so he worked part time for me and took off the rest of the time on his own. Lots of sun and money and bitches. Those were the good times. Suddenly, I wished we never came back.

Shoot would be free. I wouldn't have some sexy piece sitting in my train car. And I wouldn't be faced with the impossible choice between them.

“I cross Lex, I get dead too,” I mused out loud. He wouldn't stop by just killing Shoot. That would just be to torment me before he came and took me out as well. Probably making me watch him rape and torture Alex before he did me in just to prove he had the upper hand. “And so would Alex,” I added.

Paine sighed. “Just hide her somewhere, man. Give her some food and cash and a burner and tell her that if she doesn't hear from you in two weeks, to take off. She's a hacker... she can get herself a new identity. She can disappear.”

“Then what, man? Wait for Lex to drag me in and kill me?”

Paine shrugged. “Or find a way to take him out.”

“What? By myself? You said yourself, criminal armies have tried and failed, man.”

“Yeah, but the girl you got locked up... she's been looking into him... she's prolly got a lot on him. Stuff you can use. Ask her for access to it. See if you can use any of it to find a way to take him out.”

“And you expect me to be able to do this all fuckin' level-headed knowin' he's got Shoot and doing god knows what to him?”

“Ain't helping him by standing here talking to me now are ya?”

Well, he had a point.

“Go home. Get some sleep. Get that poor girl some food. Then get her to agree to let you look over her files.”

“Yeah,” I said, putting my glass down, suddenly feeling the weariness seep into my bones.

I couldn't bring myself to go home, instead grabbing a sleeping bag and sleeping at the top landing of the stairs leading to the train car. When I had checked in on her when I got back, I had found her burrowed under the blankets I had given her, lying on her side, hood up, hands under her face in prayer position, dead asleep.

On a cold, hard, dirty, bloody metal floor.

Feeling very much like the worst kind of savage, I fell into an exhausted sleep.

Six

Alex

Waking felt a bit like death warmed up. Every bone in my body felt brittle. My skin felt frozen and the entire side that had been lying on the ground felt sore. I sniffled against the cold morning air, pushing slowly into a seated position, grumbling as everything creaked and objected to motion.