Heaven's Sinners
Page 10
Granger nods, even though I can see he thinks my idea is fucked. I’ve thought of everything else; I’ve tried everything else. This is the only way to get vengeance, it’s the only way to make him pay for what he did to Cheyenne. I have to make a deal. I have to get myself involved again. That means jumping back into the world of drugs.
“How’d you go with the girl?”
“What girl?” I mutter, snuffing out the cigarette.
“Ciara.”
I flinch. Fuckin’ Ciara. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head all fuckin’ night. The way she spoke, the emotion she showed. I had no fuckin’ idea it went so deep. No fuckin’ idea how much I’d hurt her. She has to know I’m not the man I was back then, she has to know wastin’ her time with me is just that: wastin’ time. I ain’t worth the fight for anyone.
Besides, she fucked me over. I wasn’t the only one who threw our friendship away. I can’t let her in now; I got too much on the line. She’s gotta stop this bullshit, and she’s gotta stop it now.
“Fuck Ciara, she’s messin’ with my fuckin’ head.”
“What’s she so desperate to get hold of you for?” he asks, taking another puff of his cigarette.
“Wants my forgiveness.”
“For what?”
“For fuckin’ me over instead of givin’ me a chance after Chey died.”
“Fuck man.”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Fuck.”
“Keep your distance yeah? You don’t want her involved with what’s goin’ down.
“Think I didn’t learn my fuckin’ lesson last time?” I bark.
He puts his hands up. “I know you did Prez, I’m just doin’ my job. She’s got feelings there, anyone can see it. You need to knock it on the head. We can’t have anyone gettin’ involved. You need to find a way to get her to back off.”
I don’t answer him, I just grip my beer and turn, walking off. No fuckin’ point in arguing with him. He thinks he’s right.
Fucker probably is too.
I just don’t know what I’m going to fuckin’ do about it. The only thing I can think of doin’, is going to speak to Jackson in an attempt to get her to stay away. It’s not a bad idea - it’s worth a fuckin’ shot. I reach into my pocket and pull my cellphone out, and I flick through until I find his number. I can’t go into Hell’s Knights compound, so I’ll have to meet him at the bar. He’s the only option I’ve got now. This shit is far too dangerous for someone like Ciara to get involved in, and it’s clear she’s got a lot more to hash out with me.
“Yeah,” Jackson answers.
“Jackson, it’s Spike. Can we meet somewhere and talk?”
“What’s up? Addison ain’t shittin’ you off again, is she?”
“Nah.”
“Alright, where?”
“Bar in ten?”
“Be there.”
“Cheers.”
I flip the phone closed and head back into the sitting room. Granger looks up, lighting another smoke. Fucker smokes like a chimney.
“Goin’ to meet Jackson.”
He raises a brow. “What for?”
“To sort this Ciara shit out once and for all.”
“Sure that’s a good idea?”
I shrug, gripping my keys. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
~*~*~*~*
The bar is quiet, but she’s working. I curse as soon as I walk in and she notices me. Her yellow eyes widen. Fuck those eyes. They’re the most beautiful fuckin’ things I’ve ever seen. I never told her that. Probably never will. Her lips part slightly in shock, and she runs her long, delicate fingers through her thick, blonde hair. Fuck. I hate when she looks at me like that. Like I can be fixed. Like I’m a project. She can spit out how much she dislikes me as much as she wants - I see that damned look in her eyes every time she looks at me, so her words mean nothing. I know she wants to fix me. But she can’t. I won’t let her.
I turn my eyes away from her to see Jackson, sitting at the booth in the left corner. I walk over, shrugging off my jacket. It’s just a sign of respect. He’s not wearing his either. This is mutual ground, neither of us have a claim on it, so there’s no need to show our patches.
He slides a beer across the table at me, and I wrap my heavily ringed fingers around it and take a sip. Jackson watches me, his eyes curious. He’s looking at me like he’s my fuckin’ dad. I hate when he does that. Fuckin’ Jack is too good for the life he lives. His heart is far too big.
“What’s up, Spike?” he asks, lighting a cigarette.
“She’s up.”
I nod my head towards Ciara, who is now serving a dirty old man who is making no effort to try and hide his lingering eyes. That fucker. I want to go and drive a fist into his dirty fuckin’ nose.
“Ciara?” Jackson asks, forcing my attention back to him.
“Yeah, Ciara.”
“What’s she doin’?”
I meet his gaze. “She’s a problem for me.”
Jackson narrows his eyes. “Why?”
“She’s...I don’t know how to put it, but she’s tryin’ to fix something here...between us...and it can’t be fixed.”
“I thought she got the message after the visit at the warehouse?”
“She didn’t. Well, she did but she ain’t willin’ to give up. She’s determined that we can get an old friendship back. It’s a problem, Jackson. I can’t have her gettin’ involved in my life, and the shit I’m doin’.”
“How’d you go with the girl?”
“What girl?” I mutter, snuffing out the cigarette.
“Ciara.”
I flinch. Fuckin’ Ciara. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head all fuckin’ night. The way she spoke, the emotion she showed. I had no fuckin’ idea it went so deep. No fuckin’ idea how much I’d hurt her. She has to know I’m not the man I was back then, she has to know wastin’ her time with me is just that: wastin’ time. I ain’t worth the fight for anyone.
Besides, she fucked me over. I wasn’t the only one who threw our friendship away. I can’t let her in now; I got too much on the line. She’s gotta stop this bullshit, and she’s gotta stop it now.
“Fuck Ciara, she’s messin’ with my fuckin’ head.”
“What’s she so desperate to get hold of you for?” he asks, taking another puff of his cigarette.
“Wants my forgiveness.”
“For what?”
“For fuckin’ me over instead of givin’ me a chance after Chey died.”
“Fuck man.”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Fuck.”
“Keep your distance yeah? You don’t want her involved with what’s goin’ down.
“Think I didn’t learn my fuckin’ lesson last time?” I bark.
He puts his hands up. “I know you did Prez, I’m just doin’ my job. She’s got feelings there, anyone can see it. You need to knock it on the head. We can’t have anyone gettin’ involved. You need to find a way to get her to back off.”
I don’t answer him, I just grip my beer and turn, walking off. No fuckin’ point in arguing with him. He thinks he’s right.
Fucker probably is too.
I just don’t know what I’m going to fuckin’ do about it. The only thing I can think of doin’, is going to speak to Jackson in an attempt to get her to stay away. It’s not a bad idea - it’s worth a fuckin’ shot. I reach into my pocket and pull my cellphone out, and I flick through until I find his number. I can’t go into Hell’s Knights compound, so I’ll have to meet him at the bar. He’s the only option I’ve got now. This shit is far too dangerous for someone like Ciara to get involved in, and it’s clear she’s got a lot more to hash out with me.
“Yeah,” Jackson answers.
“Jackson, it’s Spike. Can we meet somewhere and talk?”
“What’s up? Addison ain’t shittin’ you off again, is she?”
“Nah.”
“Alright, where?”
“Bar in ten?”
“Be there.”
“Cheers.”
I flip the phone closed and head back into the sitting room. Granger looks up, lighting another smoke. Fucker smokes like a chimney.
“Goin’ to meet Jackson.”
He raises a brow. “What for?”
“To sort this Ciara shit out once and for all.”
“Sure that’s a good idea?”
I shrug, gripping my keys. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
~*~*~*~*
The bar is quiet, but she’s working. I curse as soon as I walk in and she notices me. Her yellow eyes widen. Fuck those eyes. They’re the most beautiful fuckin’ things I’ve ever seen. I never told her that. Probably never will. Her lips part slightly in shock, and she runs her long, delicate fingers through her thick, blonde hair. Fuck. I hate when she looks at me like that. Like I can be fixed. Like I’m a project. She can spit out how much she dislikes me as much as she wants - I see that damned look in her eyes every time she looks at me, so her words mean nothing. I know she wants to fix me. But she can’t. I won’t let her.
I turn my eyes away from her to see Jackson, sitting at the booth in the left corner. I walk over, shrugging off my jacket. It’s just a sign of respect. He’s not wearing his either. This is mutual ground, neither of us have a claim on it, so there’s no need to show our patches.
He slides a beer across the table at me, and I wrap my heavily ringed fingers around it and take a sip. Jackson watches me, his eyes curious. He’s looking at me like he’s my fuckin’ dad. I hate when he does that. Fuckin’ Jack is too good for the life he lives. His heart is far too big.
“What’s up, Spike?” he asks, lighting a cigarette.
“She’s up.”
I nod my head towards Ciara, who is now serving a dirty old man who is making no effort to try and hide his lingering eyes. That fucker. I want to go and drive a fist into his dirty fuckin’ nose.
“Ciara?” Jackson asks, forcing my attention back to him.
“Yeah, Ciara.”
“What’s she doin’?”
I meet his gaze. “She’s a problem for me.”
Jackson narrows his eyes. “Why?”
“She’s...I don’t know how to put it, but she’s tryin’ to fix something here...between us...and it can’t be fixed.”
“I thought she got the message after the visit at the warehouse?”
“She didn’t. Well, she did but she ain’t willin’ to give up. She’s determined that we can get an old friendship back. It’s a problem, Jackson. I can’t have her gettin’ involved in my life, and the shit I’m doin’.”
