Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals #2) - Heather Long Page 0,24

heart just wasn’t in it. After days of being relatively ignored, it was nice to just talk to him. “What’s with all the bird names?”

“You answer my question, and I’ll think about answering yours.”

“How the hell is that fair? I already answered one.”

“We weren’t negotiating then.” The fucker grinned at me. When I didn’t respond, he tilted his head, and I swore everything in me clenched. “C’mon, Sparrow. Play with me.”

“You think you’re charming.”

“I know I am,” he admitted without an ounce of shame or bravado. “That’s not why I want you to play.”

I turned to look down the alley and took another long drink of the coffee. “Fifty-five or fifty-six. Something like that.” Honestly, I was pulling that number out of my butt. I couldn’t remember what the form said.

“But you finished the class?”

“Yes, I finished the class, and why are you asking me two questions?”

“Why are you answering it?”

I scowled, and his smile grew a little wider.

“Birds fly free. They choose where they land.”

That was…elegant and beautiful. “Except if someone clips their wings.”

“That’s why we don’t let anyone clip us, and we’ll tear free the jesses anyone tries to put on the others.” The quiet certainty offered a far more provocative threat.

I licked my lips. “Like Freddie?”

One nod. “And you.”

That took us too close to a vulnerable and sensitive place. I frowned and glanced at the cigarette again. “Freddie doesn’t have a bird name.”

“Ask him when he’s feeling better.”

“What if I want to ask you?”

“Just because you ask doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.” The dare in his eyes said the rest—we could keep playing the question game, or I could let it go.

“Fine,” I exhaled. “I’ll ask him later.”

A car horn honked in the distance. Trucks rumbled by. Somewhere, I swore there was a louder, lower pitched horn. It reminded me of those at train crossings, but I didn’t remember seeing any of those.

“You want to go to work with me today, Sparrow?”

“Where’s work?” I glanced at him.

“Not here,” he offered, and when I narrowed my eyes, he flashed another smile. “I work at a shop down the road. It’s not that far, but far enough that you’ll be out. Probably not the most comfortable.” The last was said with a hint of a shrug.

“Do you think Freddie will be out today?”

“No, Sparrow. They took him to Doc’s clinic so Doc could let him sleep off the worst of it. It’s not easy to get everything out of his system without the tremors and delirium setting in, and if we keep him out, then at least we can get his system clean before he starts trying to wander off and score again. At least when he’s sober, there’s a chance he makes better choices.”

“That’s why I haven’t seen Jasper or Vaughn?”

He nodded. “They’re taking turns sitting with him. Vaughn’s got work too. You missing them?”

I’d finished my second cigarette, and it had definitely done what the first hadn’t—it had eased my agitation. “It would be weird if I was.”

“It would be weirder if you weren’t.” He shrugged.

“How did you know?” I met his stare.

“Know what?”

“That I left.”

The corners of his mouth tipped, and he dropped his chin. “I didn’t, for sure, until just now.”

Fuck.

Goddammit.

Before I could spin away though, he caught my arm and dragged me back to him. To be fair, it wasn’t like he was gripping me that tight. I could yank away. Leaning into my space, he studied me.

“Sparrow, you relaxed. Before, you were jumpy as fuck around all of us. Even Vaughn.”

“I didn’t feel very jumpy when I fucked him.”

“Good, if you were, I’d have to beat the shit out of him.” The simplicity of the statement lent a lot more weight than all the yelling in the world. “And I make it a point of noticing things, particularly since you’ve been hellbent on escape since you got here, and you’ve been left alone for days and didn’t try to leave.”

My heart sank. It was one thing to admit it to myself, but another to admit it to them.

“I’m not mad,” he said quietly, and that last bit pulled my attention upward. “We want you to feel safe here. Even if you don’t belong here.”

Why did those last few words hurt?

“I thought you brought me here to protect me.”

“We did.” He stroked the inside of my arm with his thumb. The quiet tone kept me riveted because I didn’t want to miss a single word. “Doesn’t mean this place is good for you, or

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