I knew you’d be here. I’ve kept up my end of our agreement.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed to slits as he stepped forward to crowd Owen. His buddies moved in close, blanketing Owen’s senses with the stench of unwashed bodies. Their ratty jeans, worn T-shirts, and scuffed leather jackets didn’t suggest the three of them were doing particularly well. The guy on the right looked as if he might be from Native American stock mixed heavily with African-American blood. The guy on the left had red hair, pale freckled skin, and the kind of acne that came from using steroids to bulk up.
Jason put one finger in the middle of Owen’s chest. “I need some cash for a job, and you’re going to win a fight for me.”
The translation being that Jason had put together an illegal fight with horrendous odds, and he didn’t mind putting Owen’s life on the line to get the capital he needed. Owen sighed. Time hadn’t changed anything between him and his brother, and Owen suspected it never would.
After the last fight had gone south, Owen had vowed it would be his last. Jason had wanted Owen to take a dive for the bigger paycheck, and Owen had refused. To keep things interesting and make the payoff worthwhile, Jason had locked Owen in a cage with a set of psychotic triplets who’d been too bloodthirsty to become professional fighters.
Jason took Owen’s silence for compliance. “The fight is this weekend. The usual place. Be there by midnight.”
“I told you I’m not fighting anymore,” Owen said calmly. “I put two guys in the hospital last time and almost wound up in a box myself. I’m done.”
Jason’s dark eyes gleamed with malice. “Grandmother will be so sorry about that. She’s been having some trouble with vandals. There was a break-in at her neighbor’s house just last week. So far nobody’s been hurt, but you know how these things tend to escalate.”
Anger rose like a tidal wave inside Owen’s chest. Blood roared in his ears, and he clenched his hands to keep them away from Jason’s neck. “So let’s say I fight this weekend. What then? This is bullshit, and you know it.”
“You could always do another kind of job for me.” Jason’s deliberately casual tone put Owen on edge.
He mulled over his options before choosing the one least likely to end badly. “What’s the job?”
“Some weird ritual.” Jason smirked, looking pleased with himself.
Apparently his brother had been branching out from doing odd jobs for local criminals to renting himself out to the occult.
Owen wasn’t impressed. “What kind of ritual?”
“Some binding thing.” Jason shrugged off the potential danger of messing with power he didn’t understand with an ignorance that made Owen want to roll his eyes. “This crazy-ass guy came down to the rez talking about ancient power places and crossroads and some other bullshit. He talked to Dad, but you know how he is about that kind of stuff.”
Owen did know. Xander Bloodmoon liked a lot of things about his Narragansett heritage. Mysticism wasn’t one of them.
Jason wasn’t through. “So Dad told him the only ones who still bought into the old mumbo- jumbo were living in the houses the tribe keeps for the old folks.”
“He talked to Grandmother?” Owen cursed the strain in his tone, but he couldn’t hide his concern for the woman who’d taken him in as a child and raised him as her own. With his grandfather dead, it should have been Owen’s responsibility to see to her care. Instead he was forced to stand back and hope his idiot brother would keep his word that he’d direct his clandestine activities somewhere else.
“You know how she is. Always going on about the seasons, her weaving, and all that other bullshit.” Jason crossed his arms and scoffed. “This idiot ate it up. Next thing I know, he’s asking around for a couple of us who might want to make a few bucks on the side.”
“What’s the guy’s name?” Owen had a sinking feeling in the pit of
Jason’s eyes narrowed to slits as he stepped forward to crowd Owen. His buddies moved in close, blanketing Owen’s senses with the stench of unwashed bodies. Their ratty jeans, worn T-shirts, and scuffed leather jackets didn’t suggest the three of them were doing particularly well. The guy on the right looked as if he might be from Native American stock mixed heavily with African-American blood. The guy on the left had red hair, pale freckled skin, and the kind of acne that came from using steroids to bulk up.
Jason put one finger in the middle of Owen’s chest. “I need some cash for a job, and you’re going to win a fight for me.”
The translation being that Jason had put together an illegal fight with horrendous odds, and he didn’t mind putting Owen’s life on the line to get the capital he needed. Owen sighed. Time hadn’t changed anything between him and his brother, and Owen suspected it never would.
After the last fight had gone south, Owen had vowed it would be his last. Jason had wanted Owen to take a dive for the bigger paycheck, and Owen had refused. To keep things interesting and make the payoff worthwhile, Jason had locked Owen in a cage with a set of psychotic triplets who’d been too bloodthirsty to become professional fighters.
Jason took Owen’s silence for compliance. “The fight is this weekend. The usual place. Be there by midnight.”
“I told you I’m not fighting anymore,” Owen said calmly. “I put two guys in the hospital last time and almost wound up in a box myself. I’m done.”
Jason’s dark eyes gleamed with malice. “Grandmother will be so sorry about that. She’s been having some trouble with vandals. There was a break-in at her neighbor’s house just last week. So far nobody’s been hurt, but you know how these things tend to escalate.”
Anger rose like a tidal wave inside Owen’s chest. Blood roared in his ears, and he clenched his hands to keep them away from Jason’s neck. “So let’s say I fight this weekend. What then? This is bullshit, and you know it.”
“You could always do another kind of job for me.” Jason’s deliberately casual tone put Owen on edge.
He mulled over his options before choosing the one least likely to end badly. “What’s the job?”
“Some weird ritual.” Jason smirked, looking pleased with himself.
Apparently his brother had been branching out from doing odd jobs for local criminals to renting himself out to the occult.
Owen wasn’t impressed. “What kind of ritual?”
“Some binding thing.” Jason shrugged off the potential danger of messing with power he didn’t understand with an ignorance that made Owen want to roll his eyes. “This crazy-ass guy came down to the rez talking about ancient power places and crossroads and some other bullshit. He talked to Dad, but you know how he is about that kind of stuff.”
Owen did know. Xander Bloodmoon liked a lot of things about his Narragansett heritage. Mysticism wasn’t one of them.
Jason wasn’t through. “So Dad told him the only ones who still bought into the old mumbo- jumbo were living in the houses the tribe keeps for the old folks.”
“He talked to Grandmother?” Owen cursed the strain in his tone, but he couldn’t hide his concern for the woman who’d taken him in as a child and raised him as her own. With his grandfather dead, it should have been Owen’s responsibility to see to her care. Instead he was forced to stand back and hope his idiot brother would keep his word that he’d direct his clandestine activities somewhere else.
“You know how she is. Always going on about the seasons, her weaving, and all that other bullshit.” Jason crossed his arms and scoffed. “This idiot ate it up. Next thing I know, he’s asking around for a couple of us who might want to make a few bucks on the side.”
“What’s the guy’s name?” Owen had a sinking feeling in the pit of
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