Until Alex - J. Nathan Page 0,6

that a lot lately. Which was fine by me. I’d lost the desire to join him three years ago. That’s when we stopped running money and started hitting up guys who didn’t pay their bookie.

There was nothing I hated more than laying my hands on someone. But I never let on, always showing up for Remy. He needed me. And I always had his back. No questions asked.

I killed the engine, taking in the lower-class neighborhood, with its similar houses tightly lining the street.

Remy pounded on our target’s front door. He impatiently twisted to scour the neighborhood, searching the shadows for any sign of trouble. He was paranoid. Always had been. Just like he’d always been scrawny.

But his gaunt looks were deceiving. They gave no indication of the power a blow from him could pack. Juvie made Remy stronger. But life made him harder. I guess it’s what brought us together in the first place. Both foster kids. Both angry at the world.

The door to the house cracked open. Remy spun around, jamming the toe of his boot in the gap. Good thing. The asshole tried to slam the door in his face. Remy’s palm flew out, shoving it open and forcing his way inside.

I gripped my door handle, ready to assist if I got the sign or he’d been in there too long. It happened more often than not. Not because Remy and I sucked at our job. Because we didn’t. We always delivered. But deadbeats had no intention of paying the money they owed. And most didn’t owe chump change. They owed thousands.

I snagged the gun stowed under my seat and tucked it into the back of my jeans. These guys weren’t just gambling addicts. They suffered other addictions, too. None of which I wanted to get caught in the middle of unarmed. Especially when demanding money they’d already stiffed our boss on.

The television inside the house flicked off, shrouding the house in complete darkness.

I flew out of the truck and across the lawn, unsure if I even shut my door. I reached the house and pushed the door open slightly, uncertain what I’d find.

The house sat unnervingly silent as I slipped inside the empty living room. Luckily, the moonlight squeezed through the window blinds and guided my route as I glided against the wall, careful not to bump any of the worn furniture and make my presence known.

Gripping the gun in the back of my belt, and hoping to God I didn’t have to use it, I turned the corner into the small kitchen.

An angry shudder rolled through me.

A house-of-a-guy with a long gray ponytail and soiled wife-beater held Remy against the wall by his neck. By the looks of his huge biceps, he squeezed not only to silence Remy, but to kill him.

I drew my gun, aiming it at the back of the guy’s head as I moved toward him.

“Let him down,” I ordered, my teeth clenched in hate.

The guy didn’t move, not even to readjust his grasp on Remy, now breathless and turning blue.

Beads of sweat rolled down the back my neck, kicking my adrenaline into gear. I jammed the gun into the back of his head, shoving it forward. “I don’t think you heard me. I said, ‘Let him down.’”

The guy must’ve had a death wish because he didn’t acknowledge the fact that I’d spoken.

I released the gun’s safety sending the ominous click echoing off the outdated metal cabinets.

“Noooo,” my mother’s scream broke through my subconscious.

I shook off the vision just as the guy’s shoulders finally dropped. His grip loosened, and he lowered Remy to his feet.

Remy bent at the waist, gasping for air and massaging his aching neck. I didn’t dare go to him. He wouldn’t want me to. Instead I kept my gun on the guy.

Within seconds, Remy straightened up. He cracked his neck to the left then right. Then his fist flew out from his side, slamming repeatedly into the guy’s face. Blow after blow. Blood sprayed from the guy’s nose as he staggered back, his arms flapping in front of him in an attempt to ward off Remy’s attack.

If he thought he could manhandle Remy without recourse, he had another thing coming.

I lowered my gun. It was time for the Remy show. When he was in the zone, no one could stop him.

It only took a few more powerful blows to the face to send the guy flying on his ass. But even then, Remy inundated his sides with full-blown