Tortured Sinner by Tessa James

Johnny - 16

Bram's lucky he's old, otherwise, I would have punched him for forcing me and Claire together the way he did.

Sure, it was totally harmless in his eyes, but it couldn’t have been any more awkward.

A year ago, I would have been grateful for the introduction. But considering I need to steer clear of Claire and do everything I can to make her see me as the bad guy, his meet-cute wasn’t exactly ideal.

I lean against the brick building and study the place where I got my ass kicked a few nights ago. If I’m going to find this package, I have to find any kind of lead to help me figure out who robbed me.

My dried blood still coats the ground near the dumpster, and random trash is haphazardly strewn about. I close my eyes and try to remember anything I can.

I wince at the memory of a shoe slamming into my side. A fist striking my face and splitting my brow. A delicate voice saying my name.

I shake my head to rid the thought.

I can’t let Claire saving me from my own stupidity be the one thing I focus on.

My phone dings, reminding me that the thieves didn’t take it. They left my wallet and everything in it, too. The only thing they stole was Franklin’s package.

Which means they knew I had it. They targeted me specifically because of it. They waited for me to come down this dark alley and used the opportunity to steal it from me. These people not only knew I was running a package, but they knew the route I was going to take.

I’ve been made.

All these months, I thought I was being careful, flying under the radar and blending in so no one knew what I was up to. My efforts have been for nothing if someone figured me out this easily.

I run my hand through my hair, tugging it out of my face. “Shit.” I kick off from the wall and leave this piss-soaked alley behind. I need to think, and if I’m going to do it anywhere, it’s not going to be here.

It doesn’t take me long to get to the complex. The gate clangs shut behind me and a familiar smile greets me from the courtyard.

“Johnny!” Billy rushes over from his spot and wraps his arms around me.

I grit my teeth at the impact on my still sore ribs. “Hey, kid.”

Billy tilts his head up at me. “You look like crap.”

I nudge his shoulder. “Thanks, that’s so sweet of you.”

“You know what I mean.” He rolls his eyes and lowers his voice. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, little man.” I ruffle his hair and point toward his stack of books. “What’re you working on?”

“Math,” he groans.

I follow him over and sit across from where he had been sitting. “Let me see.”

Billy slides his scribbled-out homework over for me.

“Right here.” I point at the paper. “You have to carry the one.”

Billy's brown eyes light up. "Ohhh. Duh.”

The gate jangles shut, and when I glance over my shoulder, Claire appears.

She instantly averts her gaze and focuses on making her way through the courtyard and to her place. She does a better job than I do at looking away.

“You’re the best, Johnny,” Billy says with a happy smile. He finishes the problem and turns it for me to check.

“Yep, good job, Billy. Just remember that on your test and you’ll be golden.”

Billy sighs. “I hate math.”

“Me, too.”

A door creaks open. “Billy! Get your ass up here.”

Anger rolls through me.

Billy jumps up and starts gathering his stuff. “I have to go, J.”

“Hey.” I gently grab his wrist and look him straight in the eyes. “Has he laid a hand on you?”

“No, not since I told you what was happening. He yells a lot still though.”

I assess his answer and feel decently confident that he isn’t lying. There are no obvious bruises on his skin, and unless his uncle is hitting him in places that are hidden by clothing, I think Billy is telling the truth.

“Okay.” I let go of his arm. “You’ll tell me if anything changes though, right?”

Billy nods. “Yeah.” He shoves everything into his backpack and pauses. “Did the bad men do that?” He points at my still healing face.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Too late.” Billy rushes upstairs and disappears into the unit.

My stomach sinks at not knowing what goes on behind that door. There’s only so much I can do to protect him out here, but in there, anything could happen.

I put my head in my hands, leaning onto my elbows on the table. Defeat is a strong word, but basically sums up my existence. It’s like every time I figure a problem out, another one pops up and slams me back to reality.

I can’t just sit back and do nothing. Someone has to do something.

And maybe I’m an idiot for thinking it has to be me, my fucking hero complex constantly on overdrive to save everyone.

Relentlessly putting others ahead of myself.

I was that kid once, though. The one that needed help. That could have used someone looking out for me. If someone like me would have stepped in, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did. Maybe I wouldn’t be so fucking broken. Maybe I wouldn’t have to try, and fail, at saving everyone else.

My phone goes off again, snapping me out of my shitty mindset.

I pull it out and let the facial recognition do its thing. Through the cracked screen, there are two texts.

Josey: You busy?

Josey: Could use your help at Washington.

It doesn’t come across like a direct order, meaning it’s probably not a mandatory job Franklin is demanding of me. Josey has never done anything to make me dislike him, though, so if he’s asking for assistance, I have no real reason not to give it to him.

Me: Be there in 5.

Josey: Thanks.

I take the main streets to the destination and manage to make it there in under four minutes. I turn into the alley and find Josey leaning against a fully blacked-out SUV.

“What’s up?” I ask him.

He approaches and shakes my hand. “You got an hour? I need an extra body.” He nods toward the vehicle where two people are already sitting in the back seat.

I can barely make them out through the deeply tinted windows. “Sure. What are we doing?”

Josey chuckles. “Right.” He pushes a button on the key fob and the big thing starts up. “Hop in. You’re riding shotgun.”

I do what he says and slide into the front, trying not to make it too obvious when I check out the passengers. I don’t recognize either one of them, which doesn’t help my cluelessness at what I’m tagging along for.

The guy with the military short hair nods a silent hello but doesn’t say anything else. The other, a smaller guy, just sits there and avoids eye contact.

We drive across town, about ten minutes away, and park at one of the empty buildings in the warehouse district near the entrance.

Josey cuts the ignition. “There you go.”

The two men get out and go into the structure.

I’m left here still wondering what the heck is going on.

Once they’re inside, Josey opens his mouth. “You busy tonight?”

I side-eye him. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Josey slams the back of his hand into my chest. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

I laugh. "Is it wrong to say you're not my type? You're not a bad-looking dude, I'm just into chicks."

“I hate you.” Josey shakes his head. “No, you fucking idiot. I’m not coming onto you. I have a girlfriend." He exhales. "I thought maybe we could grab a beer at Whiskers. There was something I wanted to talk to you about. Didn't want to bring any attention to it, though, so I couldn't ask you over a text."

“Wait, this was just a cover up? You didn’t actually need me right now?”

Josey folds his arms over his wide chest. “Been at this game much longer than you, kid. I can handle shit on my own.”

“Oh.” I process what he’s saying. “Yeah, sure. What time?”

“Meet me there at ten. But listen, don’t tell anyone about this. It’s between you and me.” His serious gaze burns into me.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say they hired Josey to finish the job and off me. But Josey has never been that kind of person toward me, and if what he’s saying is true, he’s putting his neck on the line to tell me something he thinks I should know.

The two guys come out of the building and make their way to us.

“Do you understand?” Josey urges before we’re interrupted.

“Yes.” I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat. The unknown of what this could potentially mean.

My mind races on the way back into town. I try to settle it, but I can’t. There are too many variables, and I don’t know which one to focus on first. There’s this stolen package and how the hell I’m going to locate and retrieve it, the overall situation with Franklin, Josey wanting to have a talk with me, and the person that keeps vying for my main attention—Claire. Not to mention the week of school I’ve missed and everything else going on in my life.

I told Claire we couldn’t be friends. Why can’t my own brain wrap itself around that concept? Why is she still in my head even though I keep pushing her away? Why do I have this desperate need to be around her despite knowing that’s quite literally the worst thing I could possibly do?

Even if all of my other problems were fixed, it wouldn’t erase the way I’ve treated her. Buying her breakfast and letting her crash at my place when she was wasted will never begin to excuse the shitty treatment I’ve dished out.

I can’t imagine how fucking confusing I must be. One minute, I’m a total asshole, the next I’m catching her as she falls off a pool table. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I just leave her alone?

We’d both be better off if I could figure out how to keep my distance once and for all.

I recall her cobalt blue eyes and the way they stared into mine on many different occasions. There’s this weird connection. This pull to each other that’s undeniable. Or maybe I’m fucking losing it and it’s all in my head. Maybe I’m twisted and clinging to something that doesn’t exist.

But if that’s true, why does she look at me the way she does?

With curiosity. With longing. With desire.

Josey puts the SUV into park and turns off the ignition. “Thanks for your help, J.”

I blink and take in our surroundings. We’re stopped in the alley I had met him in not too long ago.

The two random dudes get out and slam the doors behind them, disappearing into wherever they came from.

“You good?” Josey asks me.

I bob my head up and down. “Yeah. Catch you later.”