Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 68 - Clawing Tension

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART FOUR :: Leave The Front Line Behind

Chapter 68 - Clawing Tension

Ally shot her brother a disapproving look, shaking her head. "You do realize you only got released from the hospital three days ago right?"

Rolling his eyes, James gave her a sheepish grin in response. "I feel fine and besides, that old doctor always errors on the side of caution. Everyone knows that the amount of time he tells you isn't accurate."

Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, Ally stood up from her bed to follow him out the door against her better judgment. "If your stitches come out, you get to explain it to the doctor because I'm not doing it." Ignoring his grin of victory, Ally simply brushed past him and moved to stand beside the door. Ally pulled a hair tie from her wrist and quickly threw her hair up into a sloppy ponytail, glancing down at her outfit. Shrugging to herself as she took in the tank top and shorts, she raised her eyes back to her brother. No one else was going to see her and since James hadn't said anything about it, she wasn't going to worry about her choice of clothing.

He swung the door open, holding it with a sarcastic smile on his face as he said in a patronizing voice, "After you milady."

"You're a dork."

"Yes, but I'm your dork," he replied in stride, grabbing her hand and placing it on his arm as if he was a gentleman escorting a lady to a banquet in some historical fiction novel.

"No, trust me, if you were mine, I would've sold you years ago."

He raised his free hand to his chest, a mock wounded look settling over his features. "That's not a nice thing to say to your brother who just so kindly held the door open for you."

Ally simply raised one eyebrow, stealing her hand from his grip and smacking him across the back of the head.

"Ow!" James complained, rubbing the afflicted spot. "What was that for?"

She shrugged, letting her hair fall across her face and create a wall between them so that he couldn't see the pleased smirk painted on her lips. "Now you actually have something to be hurt over."

"I bet you just think you're so clever, don't you?" he taunted, pulling open a thick steel door and looking back at her over his shoulder.

Ally opened her mouth to reply, but her words froze on her tongue as she took in the man visible over her brother's shoulders. He was bent over a machine gun, running his hands softly over the barrel as he checked for any defects or scratches, brown hair falling into his pale blue eyes. Beside him sat a wooden crate, the lid propped against its side, with identifying stamps staining the light wood.

She took an immediate stride backwards, intent on fleeing. A strong hand gripped her arm before she could take another step, rooting her in place. Her brother shot her a questioning look, his head tilting to the side as he observed her frightened expression and tense posture.

"You didn't tell me he would be here," Ally whispered, trying to keep her voice down as she held onto the sliver of hope that she could escape before Kyle realized she was there.

"What does it matter?" he asked confused, his voice quieter than usual as he picked up on her mood but still loud enough to reach the man she was trying desperately to avoid.

Ally shook her head frantically, trying to keep her gaze from drifting to Kyle as she wrestled with the panic clawing at her chest. It was as if something or someone else had taken over her body as a force drew her eyes to Kyle just in time to see his head whip up and his icy blue eyes meet her own. Ally tried, no fought, to break her gaze with him, but still found herself unable to look away. She cringed, cursing herself in fifteen different languages, as she watched his usually warm sapphire eyes drain in color until they were once again an insipid, pale blue. Her heart clenched, knowing the pain that she had caused him -the pain that she was still causing him.