Scum (Wrong Side of the Tracks 1)

Still, he didn’t want to squash the fluffy critter between his teeth so soon into the game.

“If you don’t want to go to prison, get me some heavy-duty trash bags and tape.”

Brad stilled, and Shane could see understanding seeping into that jockface.

Ros was a bit slower on the uptake, eyes widening as if he’d just snorted coke. “You can’t be serious. Someone will find out,” he whispered, but there was a hint of question in his voice. He wasn’t defying Shane. He was seeking reassurance.

They’d been through a whirlwind of sex and emotion in the past few weeks, but for all Shane knew, Ros might not want to see him again after this, and if that was the case, his whole revenge plot would be null and void.

That was what he should worry about, not whether Ros would ever smile at him again.

“They won’t if we all keep our mouths shut,” Shane said, staring straight at Ros. Brad must have taken it as his cue and ran out, leaving Shane to deal with the corpse and a boy who now saw him for what he truly was. The curtain had fallen, and it was time to face the music, even though Shane would have paid taxes on his real income to keep basking in Ros’s admiration.

Ros tried to rise, but his knees gave up, and Shane ended up helping him to his feet.

“Are—are you sure this can work? Where will we take him? Have you—Have you done this before?” Ros glanced at him, pale as a ghost and just as shiny, though with sweat rather than some otherworldly glow.

Pete was far from Shane’s first dead body, but the grayish tint of Ros’s skin was making his stomach cramp. From now on, every time Ros looked at Shane, he’d think of maggots, and his frat brother’s dead eyes.

“It’s… a hard business.”

Ros took a deep breath, glancing to Pete’s limp form. “So it worked before? You managed not to get caught?” he whispered, but instead of disgust, there was hope in his voice.

The tension in Shane’s shoulders dispersed somewhat, and he nodded, wiping his sweaty hand on his jeans. Words pushed at his teeth, wanting out, but the door opened, and Brad tossed in a roll of black trash bags, and an untouched two-pack of tape.

He was out of breath as if he’d sprinted around the campus several times in a row.

“I’ll be the lookout,” he blurted out before disappearing behind the door.

“Coward,” muttered Shane.

Ros took a deep breath and tied his hair into a tight bun at the top of his head. “T-tell me what to do?” he asked but wouldn’t meet Shane’s gaze. He seemed like a house of cards about to collapse, yet there he was, pulling his sleeves up.

It was weirdly impressive.

“You want to help?” Shane asked before he could have considered shutting the fuck up.

Ros nodded with fresh determination. “It’s my fault too. You can’t be left to deal with this yourself,” he said and grabbed one of the green trash bags meant for garden waste.

Beck Junior was stepping up and taking responsibility. Did he carry even a drop of the old bastard’s blood?

Shane stared at him as disbelief ate at his stomach, but when Ros looked back, hesitant about approaching the corpse, it was time to move.

“Thanks. I didn’t expect that,” he muttered, kneeling next to the body and opening the package of tape.

“Just… sorry in advance if I throw up,” Ros said and actually laughed, but the tremble in his voice told the real story. Ros was on the verge of a breakdown, and it was up to Shane to guide him through this.

Which was a strange experience. In prison, life was about looking after yourself, and charity was not something Shane had been willing to offer anyone. Even back in the day, when Frank had given him a helping hand, the two of them were more of a team than anything else. Shane’s parents didn’t deserve a mention, as they didn’t have a caring bone in their bodies.

And there Ros was, so desperately in need of guidance Shane wanted to give. Ros reminded him of a puppy, which for some unknown reason had chosen Shane as his favorite no matter how intensely Shane had tried to treat the dogs as a way to kill time in prison. The little black lab which Shane had ended up naming Goofy had depended on him for training, food, and affection. Shane would often claim he didn’t care for it much, but he’d given Goofy all the love he hadn’t been free to express to any other living being, and taking care of the cute little buddy helped him get through prison with his sanity intact.

But it was easy to love creatures incapable of betrayal. A man, even one as sweet as Ros, would always think of himself first, and no matter how much emotion he stirred in Shane, he was not an innocent puppy. Sometimes it was a man’s own mind that told him the most elusive lies.