Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(31)

They wanted to take me down? They were going to have to do a whole ton better than showing up with fists.

I spun, throwing a kick before he even got within a foot of me. The sole of my boot hit him square in the chest. It blew him back, asshole stumbling before he lost his footing and fumbled back onto the ground.

Two pussies laying there in the middle of the road panting for a breath.

Unsuspecting.

I swiped at the single droplet of blood that ran down from the side of my mouth, glaring in disgust at the red from under the hazy, murky light.

I shook out my hands, knuckles busted and torn, probably more beat than the two bastards who were sitting there waiting for what was going to happen next.

Feeling the vibe.

The chaos that raged and hissed and seeped from my pores.

No fear.

Just the welcoming of pain.

“I’m guessing since you didn’t come here with guns you came to deliver a message.” I spat the words at the pricks who sat there fucking shaking.

No doubt, they were brand new pledges into this seedy, sleazy world.

Uneasily, they glanced between each other.

“That’s what I thought,” I grated. “How about you deliver a message for me?”





Nine





Leif





Sixteen Years Old





I let loose a low whistle.

“Whoa, she is pretty, isn’t she?” I asked through the awe as I let my hand flutter an inch over the gleaming bike. Brand new. Shining metal and perfect leather.

I was itching to caress it but I knew better than to actually touch.

The garage was dim, the only light getting in from the small windows that ran along the top.

“Happy birthday, Leif.”

Confusion moved through me, and I spun to look over my shoulder at my stepfather who stood ten feet away. Did my best to process what was happening when he tossed something into the air, metal glinting in the bare rays of sunlight that filtered down through the dusty glass.

I caught it.

A keyring.

For a beat, I just stared at the single key on the keychain that was the same design I’d seen before. A P with two slashing lines cutting through the middle of it. It was something my stepfather wore on his vest and had in the autobody shop that he owned.

I glanced over at Keeton.

Wary.

Guy was intimidating as fuck. Would kick my ass from here to the fucking moon if I even looked at him wrong. White beard and piercing eyes. Skin worn and thick.

But I respected him for the fact he’d gotten me out of that rat-infested apartment when he and my mom had gotten together two years ago. Our stomachs full and a roof over our heads. Treated her right. Made her happy, which meant she was no longer focusing her misery on me.

Other than that? I pretty much stayed out of his way.

“What’s this?” I finally asked, dangling the key in front of me.

“Your birthday present.”

Dude had to be punking me.

“You can’t . . .” I swiveled to glance at the bike before I looked back at him. Excitement burned in my chest, all mixed up with the questions. “You can’t be serious? This is for me?”

Guy wasn’t about giving free rides. Ever since he’d come into our lives, he’d emphasized the fact that nothing came without a cost.

He pressed his hands together, rubbing them slow as he studied me. “You’re one of us now.”

A frown pulled my brow tight. “What’s that mean?”

“Get on your bike, and I’ll show you.”





Ten





Leif





Anger burning through me, I swiped the drip of blood that oozed from the corner of my mouth and stormed in the direction of Lyrik’s house. I glanced over my shoulder one more time before I pushed send on the message.

Me: Two pricks followed me out of a bar in Savannah. Got any word?





Didn’t take but a minute for it to buzz back.

Braxton: Nothing solid. But Keeton has been asking around again. Pushing. You’ve been playing with fire since the second you joined that band. Warned you if you put yourself in that position things were gonna go south.





Rage singed my insides, fingertips pounding a little harder at the phone than necessary.

Me: That’s because it’s time for some things to burn.





Braxton: Yeah. And you were supposed to stay on the down-low until that time came to pass.





Years.

I’d waited for three fucking years.

Braxton: You didn’t get a read on who they were?





Two pricks had run off into the night with their tails tucked between their legs.

Without saying a word.

Pussies.

Which meant they’d been expendable.

Sent as only a warning.

A reminder of what was unsettled.

Debt coming due.

Me: Two of them took off before I could get anything out of them.





Me: Whoever they are, seems we’re running out of time.





Braxton: And neither of us can afford for that to happen until we are sure. We fuck this up? We’re both dead.