Honesty (Mark of Nexus) by Carrie Butler Page B

of these assholes I was screwing with. There were other people involved—kids, even. You’d think I, of all people, would’ve realized that. But somewhere along the line, things had gotten personal.
    In my story, I was the vigilant hero, doing my part to keep the streets safe…but what about this girl? If she’d been fast enough to catch what happened, I’d be the bad guy. I’d be her Roman West—the man who hurt her father and lived in her nightmares.
    The unmoving vehicles crowded potential escape routes, and I fought to keep my breathing even. What the hell was I doing? Every choice I’d made lately had gone wrong. For me. For others. Why couldn’t I just waltz into a good thing like Wallace? Why couldn’t I keep my hands clean?
    Sure, his relationship with Sis was on the rocks right now, but it’d bounce back. It had to. Their love for each other was real and gritty and…one of the few things I had faith in these days.
    Deep down, I knew I had no duty—no purpose—beyond my family. With him taken care of, I’d have one less string tying me here. That only left Grandma . The day she passed, would be the day I ceased to exist.
    In my mind, anyway.
    Not many people knew I’d tried to off myself at fifteen. A shitty mix of guilt, flashbacks, and self-loathing. But I guess there are no easy escapes when you have the so-called “gift” of accelerated healing.
    Something burned my eyes.
    “Are you okay, mister?”
    “Huh?” Everything rushed back into sharp focus as I turned to the girl, blinking. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I zoned out for a minute there.”
    “It’s okay. I do that, too.”
    “When you’re waiting?” I asked, making a futile attempt at conversation while sirens closed in from afar.
    She lifted one of her shoulders. “Sometimes.”
    “Do you stay in the car like that very often?”
    “Only when Papa has to meet clients. He says I can’t go in, ‘cause I’m not old enough, and we can’t get a sitter to stay with me this late. We’ve only gone like three times, maybe.”
    “I see.”
    For the kid’s sake, I really hoped the bastard was all right, but at that moment I wanted nothing more than another shot at him.
    “So, what should I call you?” She hugged her knees and looked up at me.
    “What?”
    “When I tell Mama who helped us.”
    “Oh, just tell her…I work with security.”
    “That’s not a name.”
    I pursed my lips. “Try Mr. B.”
    “Okay, Mr. B. I’m not supposed to give my real name to strangers, so you can call me…” She tapped her chin. “Princess Marlene.”
    “A pleasure to meet you, your highness.”
    She rewarded me with a real—albeit brief—smile. “You too.”
    The man groaned.
    “Papa!” She latched on to him, nearly knocking the useless piece of shit to the ground. “Are you awake?”
    “Wassat?” he murmured, struggling to open his eyes.
    The ambulance chose that moment to wheel into the parking lot, kicking up dust and gravel beneath the streetlights.
    Perfect timing.
    I straightened and fought off another impulse to run. Whether it was my fault or this assclown’s, Marlene didn’t need to deal with this crap. Shit like this scars kids. So, I crossed my arms, plastered on a concerned face, and watched the rig roll to a stop.
    Two guys jumped out. “Sir, I’m—”
    Ramble, ramble, ramble. The first EMT introduced himself as he approached. I was too busy working out my own speech.
    “I…just got off my shift,” I told him, making sure my story didn’t contradict what I’d told Marlene. “I was walking to my car when I saw someone knock this guy against his car and take off. I don’t know if he snatched his wallet or what. It freaked me out. You just don’t think about that sort of thing happening around here.”
    The other responder had already knelt beside Drunk Face and had begun looking him over. “Was he conscious at the time? Responsive?”
    “No. He sort of slumped to the ground, and the kid jumped out to