Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars 1)

Our bikes bounced on the rough terrain. I gritted my teeth, fighting the feeling of unease that kept sweeping through me.

Disquiet a zephyr that hissed and moaned.

We came to a stop where three Mercedes SUVs were parked facing out.

Krane’s men stepped out.

Soldier’s carrying huge fucking guns.

Sweat gathered at my temples, and I swallowed down the fear. I hated this shit. Hated it with every fiber of who I was.

I was done.

So damn done.

Climbing off my bike, I gave a signal for our guys to get out. They followed instructions, quick to move the product from the hidden compartments in the truck, and Krane himself handed over the money.

We were nothing but middle men.

Moving product from one fucking monster to the other.

The devil in between.

I took it.

“Good?”

He patted my shoulder like a prick. “Good.”* * *Dawn broke at the horizon. A blazing burn of golds that outlined the mountains and shot rays of pinks and oranges into the coming day.

It felt like earning a medal.

An award for making it to the end.

A race I hadn’t wanted to run.

But I knew way down deep that I’d been easy to sucker in.

Greed a concept that had been ingrained in me long ago. Going without made you that way.

Hungry.

Jealous.

Thinking it was just fine if you reached out and took what you wanted no matter who you hurt.

You deserved it, right?

But I’d seen enough to know I’d rather starve than be a part of this sleazy, disgusting world.

Had seen homes shattered.

Families split.

Had seen men slaughtered.

Their blood spilled on the ground because that greed just kept going round and round.

Done.

I was so done.

I eased over a sloping hill, and the city came into sharp, plain view. My heart raced toward the good. Toward what was right. Swore in that second that I would never lie to Maddie again.

Phone kept going nuts in my pocket, so I pulled off to the side of the two-lane road, pulled it out, flinching when I saw the name on the screen.

“Keeton,” I said, gruff when I answered it.

Done.

Done.

Done.

He had to fucking know. I wasn’t going to get pushed around any longer.

“What the fuck happened last night?” he growled.

That knot of unease tightened. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He didn’t even laugh. It was venom in his voice. “Krane claims ten-percent of the delivery was scraped.”

That unease bloomed into a discord.

A jarring of dread.

I swallowed hard. “Weighed it myself.”

“I know.” It was an accusation.

Fuck.

I roughed a hand through my hair that was suddenly dripping with sweat.

Money I had in my pack weighing a million pounds.

“It was there, Keeton. All of it. Before we packed it into the truck. Nixon was there. He oversaw the entire thing.”

“Seems like the perfect opportunity for you to take a little parting gift.”

“Fuck, Keeton. Last thing I want to do is get indebted to you or anyone else. Wouldn’t touch it. Want out. Not to dig myself deeper.”

“Someone did it, or Krane is lying.”

“And you trust that piece of shit?” I spat.

Guy was a savage.

Didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone who got in his way.

“He’s a businessman.”

Agitation blistered across my skin. A red-hot knife of fear. “Wasn’t me, Keeton. I swear to you.”

“Yeah? Well someone is lying to me.”

He ended the call without saying anything, and panic had me on my bike, racing back toward the city.

We were leaving.

Getting the hell out of this town.

Wasn’t even going to take the time to pack.

I was dropping this shit at Keeton’s door and was gone.

Phone went crazy again, and I tried to ignore it, pushing my bike faster around the curves in the road, about five minutes from hitting the freeway.

Finally gave in when it would stop only to start ringing again.

I pulled off, ripped my phone free, almost breathing out in relief when I saw it was Brax. “You hear this bullshit?” I asked the second I put it to my ear.

Braxton had connections on every side. Always in the know.

He didn’t say anything for a beat. Morbid energy held.

That dread slicked and shivered and sent my pulse slugging with fear. “Someone pegged this on Nix. Can’t locate him, but I got word that Morgue was sent. Krane doesn’t want repayment. He wants blood.”

Morgue.

Wasn’t a person.

Just a reference to any man who was sent for a hit.

Vomit lifted. Thick in my throat.

“Goddamn it,” I hissed. Sickness clawing. “That idiot.”

A disturbance burned through the line. “Word is, Nix has got a girl who’s pregnant. Another kid who’s seven or eight. Think he’s heading their way. Krane is pissed. Wants to set an example.”

“Fuck.” It was a shout. Disgust. Horror. I knew I hated that prick. Knew he couldn’t be trusted.

“Where are you?” I asked. “One of us has to check this out. Make sure his family is safe.”

“About forty-five from the shop.”

I sighed. Struggled. Battled with this feeling that rose up in me. I couldn’t just . . . turn my back.