Royally Broken by Elle Boon Page 0,2
the sedan pass by, the driver probably cursing a blue streak if they were indeed following him. “Hop back on up here would you?” Keys indicated the on ramp on the other side of the exit they’d taken.
Keys knew it was risky especially with the chance there was more than one tailing him. Paranoid maybe, but he didn’t survive this long without being cautious. Fifteen minutes later, he instructed the driver to take another exit. He was good at starting over. At eighteen he’d done it. At thirty he’d do it again with money and skills he’d gained in the last twelve years.
“Right here.” He tapped the window.
After passing another hundred through to the man, Keys got out, lifting his hand as he walked away. Keys hustled to the nearest bus stop, making it in time just as the bus pulled up around the corner. In his black T-shirt and cargo pants, he fit in with the myriad of other passengers.
He sat back. Stop after stop, he rode as passengers got on and off. At the last stop, he got out and began walking. Night had fallen, and the neighborhood was one of the worst in LA. He didn’t look at anyone as he made his way to where he was going. Hell, there wasn’t a single person he passed who was more dangerous than he was. A chain-link fence with barbed wire on the top came into view, two snarling dogs greeting him. “Hey, how are my friends?” he murmured, unlocking the gates with his key. He shut and locked the gates behind himself, petting the two hairy beasts walking beside him.
“Look what the dogs drug in.” The sound of a shotgun being cocked had him stopping in his tracks.
Keys looked up at the old man standing on the rickety porch outside the trailer. “Hey, Burt. Just came to collect my stuff.” Keys stood with his hand on one of the dog’s head, the other he held ready to pull the knife strapped to his side. Old Burt might hold the gun at the ready, but Keys was pretty sure he could get his knife out and in the man’s throat before the bullet could find its mark.
“Why don’t you come on in for a minute?” Burt asked, holding the door open.
He’d gotten real good at knowing when things were off in a situation. Nothing was setting off his inner sensors telling him there was danger. He gave the dog a scratch, lifting his chin toward the gun. “You gonna put that away?”
“Ah shit, sorry.” He brought the gun down, popping it in half. “I’ve had some trouble lately.”
When he’d met Burt several years ago, Keys had given him a loan so he could keep his junkyard where he’d been renting space for his stuff. Calling it his personal belongings seemed wrong since there really wasn’t anything too personal about cash, and electronics, mixed with clothes and shit you could replace. No, personal meant things you cared about. What he did care about was Burt losing the place, so he’d given the old man the money he needed so the city couldn’t take the place from him.
“What kinda trouble?” Keys asked, walking in after Burt, looking around the small but clean living room.
Burt walked into the kitchen area that held a fridge, small stove and table for two, opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. “Oh, some punk ass kids messing with the gates trying to get my babies here mad enough the city will come and take them away.” He popped the tops off both bottles then handed one to Keys.
“Thanks.” Keys took a long swig. “Why would they do that, the city I mean?”
Burt guzzled half his beer, sitting down heavily in his chair. “Damned if I know. Those two are like little lambs with more bark than bite.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but he wasn’t going to argue with Burt. They finished their beers, then Keys stood. “Thanks for the beer and for letting me keep my shit here.” He shifted toward the door.
“Where you heading?” Burt asked from his spot, wiping sweat from the bottle.
Keys cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
Burt pointed the bottle toward him, moving it up and down. “Anytime you’ve ever come here, you looked different. You’re still wearing similar clothes, but you never said you were taking your shit, which leads me to think you’re heading somewhere.” He drank the rest of his bottle. “Don’t