Playing With Fire (Previously Burning The Bad Boy) (UNDER RECONSTRUCTION)

{20} The Bad Boy's Got A Gun

I held my breath in anticipation as I watched Damon's deep blue eyes dilate.

"Demon Boy." the voice outside the door sighed. "Open up."

Damon spun around and started to push me back until my hand grasped the closet door knob for support. "What the hell, Damon?"

"Hide." he breathed. "Please. You know you'll get me or both of us killed if you don't."

His cold words didn't meet his desperate eyes. I nodded, feeling his hand grasp mine for a moment. "You're going to be fine, just stay quiet, please."

I nodded, feeling his lips against my cheek before I was shoved into the dark closet, nearly collapsing against what felt like an ironing board. I leaned forward and pressed my ear against the door, clenching my hand into a fist.

"Took you long enough." the deep voice commented.

Cringing, I waited Damon's response for so long I was worried something had happened.

"What are you doing here, Bax?" Damon questioned.

"Don't play stupid, kid." Bax snapped. "You're lucky I was the one Craig sent. I actually kind of like you."

Damon forced a laugh. "Good to know."

"So how are you going to play this, Demon Boy? Not only were you there, but Craig is set on accusing you of stealing the molly and money. He wants you dead, kid."

I inhaled sharply at the word, resting my forehead against the door. My nails had dug deep into my sweaty palms, trembling at my sides as the weight of what was being said on the other side of the door sunk in.

A sudden wave of nausea lurched in my stomach as Damon responded. "I didn't steal anything."

"I believe you man, I do, but it's not me you're trying to convince. You were there when she died, bro, and he doesn't like the fact that you're running around loose with the knowledge of what happened."

"Why can't he come and confront me himself?" Damon's voice wavered.

Bax laughed. "And have the police on his ass in seconds? Come on, Demon Boy, you know why."

"If he wants to talk to me so fucking bad, tell him to kiss my ass unless he can grow a pair and face me himself." a small smile tugged at the right side of my mouth at the familiarity of Damon's comment.

"Damon, man, Craig isn't someone to fuck around with. He'll take out anything you love if you don't play his game. You saw that first hand." Bax warned.

Damon snickered. "I don't have anything left, Bax. There's nothing left that I give a shit about. What's the worse he can do? Put me out of my misery?"

What the hell are you doing, Damon?

"Kid, he has eyes everywhere." Bax lowered his voice. "He knows everything."

Damon sighed heavily. "Then he'll know how bad I wish he'd put a bullet through my skull."

There was silence for a few minutes before Bax spoke again. "I'll pass on the message. Just watch you back, kid. All the shit you've been through, that you think you went through, is nothing compared to what's about to come. I'll see you around."

I slumped against the wall at the sound of retreating footsteps, the tears stinging my eyes finally escaping. I kept my sniffling minimal until the knob turned and the door slowly creaked open.

Damon's body slouched at the sight of me, one hand in his dark hair and the other on the hilt of his gun stuck in his pants.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered.