Rogue-Jericho's Boys #2-Ch. 1 (Patreon)

I've updated the chapter some but its still unedited and unbeta'd, uneverythinged. Be kind. 

Levi

Levi didn’t notice the ruckus at first. He was distracted by his phone call. With his mother. Naomi. The only person who would dare call and ask for a favor at three in the morning on a Sunday. He sat on the stool behind the counter of the store, feet propped up on the shelf just underneath, phone in his hand, doing his best to distract himself from the same monotonous conversation as  the anemic fluorescent lights overhead shuddered like something out of a horror movie.

Maybe his life was a horror movie? Some Groundhog Day type thriller where he was destined to have the same conversations over and over again with the scent of hot dogs and stale coffee in his nose and the hum of the coolers as the soundtrack.

“Are you even listening,” Naomi slurred, words so sloppy he had to concentrate to understand her.

At this time of the morning, she had forsaken the English language for some borderline incomprehensible hybrid speech that an average person wouldn’t have been able to parse together. But unfortunately for Levi, he was an expert.

He’d had no choice. He’d been taking care of Naomi since he was barely old enough to take care of himself.  “I can’t talk. I’m at work. Call me tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

Naomi was never sober and they both knew it. She was either getting drunk, already drunk or unconscious. Levi had hoped at this time of the morning, she’d be the latter and he could have had a bit of peace for the last two hours of his shift, but she always seemed to know just how to ruin his night.

“I’m perfect’y saw-saw-so-ber,” she finally managed just as something hit the floor.  It wasn’t heavy enough to be her body, so he ignored it. He contemplated hanging up. Nothing good came from talking to her when she was this far gone.

“Naomi—”

“That’s the problem,” she said, talking over him. “I jus’ need you to bring some beer on your way home from work and drop it by the house. You get off soon, right?”

Levi rolled his eyes. She couldn’t remember his birthday, his graduation or Christmas, but somehow she had his work schedule memorized.

He didn’t want to bring her booze. But what he wanted rarely mattered. She had passed the point of no return long ago. She couldn’t function without alcohol. Literally. She sweated beer. If she didn’t wake up and drink in the middle of the night, she’d have a seizure. After years of abuse, her body needed alcohol like most people needed water. If she didn’t get it, she would fall into a coma and die. Part of him wished he could just let it happen. Maybe they’d both be better for it.

He sighed, pushing dark hair from his forehead only for it to flop into his eyes once more. “I’ll stop by tomorrow—”

“Oh, thank you, baby,” she crooned.

“—Afternoon,” he finished. “After I wake up. You’ll be fine until then.”

She always had more booze stashed somewhere. She would never let herself run completely out before calling him. He started counting to ten, waiting for his words to penetrate the fog of alcohol.

He reached seven before she started shouting, “You ungrateful little shit. I fed you. I clothed you. I worked day and night to take care of you. Not your father. Me. You’re such a big fucking mistake. I should have ab—”

“Night, mom,” he said, cutting off her rant before she really got started.

He hung up then put his phone on silent.

He only called her mom when she was re-writing history. In her beer-soaked brain she’d been mother of the year. She had given him clothes and food and a roof over his head. But none of that was true. The clothes had been hand-me-downs from neighbors who took pity on him, the food was from the church or stolen or sometimes even straight from the dumpster behind restaurants and supermarkets. She had kept a roof over his head–he’d give her that– but he’d paid the rent with his pain and suffering. And she’d never admit to that.

He shook his head, then sighed. Her words didn’t even hurt anymore. He was numb to it. He no longer yearned for a mom who would bake for him or  kiss his forehead and read him bedtime stories. Now he just wanted her to die.

Except he didn’t. Not really.  If he had, he would just ignore her. He wouldn’t spend what little money he had on food for her or booze or anything else she needed to survive in that tiny, dirty apartment she called home.

He dropped his phone on the counter with more force than necessary, watching it slide towards the edge precariously, then stop just before toppling over.

He rubbed his face with both hands. Two more hours.  He just had to make it through two more hours and then he could go home and sleep. He didn’t have class until two on Monday and he’d finished his project last week.

A smile played at his lips as he thought about his bed. He longed for a deep, dreamless sleep. It had been so long. He was fantasizing about that sleep, when his gaze slid out the window.

He frowned. It was usually a ghost town by this time with only the occasional night crawler wandering around, usually in search of drugs or sex. But tonight, there were two people just outside his store, perfectly framed between the ATM sign and the Pepsi ad.

Though the lighting inside was terrible,  outside was searchlight-bright, and the two were dead center like the leads in a play, the sidewalk their stage. They were facing each other, leaving Levi with only their profiles. The smaller guy had soft looking brown curls and a perfect jawline. Even without seeing his whole face, Levi knew he was probably very pretty.

The other man was not.

Well, looks wise, Levi supposed he was conventionally attractive, but his personality was ugly. He was shoving at the other boy, poking him in the chest, yelling and gesturing towards the double doors of the store.

Levi fucking hated bullies.

He watched, transfixed as the pretty boy frantically shook his head, his features twisting into what looked like some kind of plea even from Levi’s limited view. His words clearly fell on deaf ears. The man grabbed him by his oversized yellow hoodie then slapped him hard across the face once, then again, the second blow landing hard enough to wrench the boy’s head to the side, causing Levi’s gaze to crash into his.

He had sad eyes. Levi couldn’t make out the color, but he could see the dread in them, the hollowness, the resignation. He knew it well. He’d seen it in the mirror most mornings. It spurred something in Levi, this sort of deep-seated rage that simmered just beneath his skin.

As he watched, the kid wiped the blood from his nose. Was this a lover’s quarrel? Domestic abuse? The thought of them as a couple turned his stomach, but the kid wasn’t any trick Levi had ever seen around. And the older guy certainly didn’t run any pros in this area. Jericho wouldn’t allow it. If people wanted to sell their bodies, they did it on their own terms. No pimps allowed.

Levi wanted to interject. He wanted to jump up and put himself between the soft boy and this much bigger guy, but he knew it would only make it worse for the kid if they were in a relationship. Eventually he’d have to go home and Levi knew with a sick sense of certainty that the next beating would be ten times worse. The boy seemed to know it too.

He was obviously used to being this guy’s punching bag. He hadn’t defended himself, hadn’t blocked the blows. He hadn’t even flinched away from it. He’d just stood there and let the man hit him in the face. Twice.

The man shoved the kid towards the double doors again, this time slapping him on the back of the head as he pointed aggressively. Levi’s stomach sloshed as he realized what was about to happen. He took in the boy's oversized hoodie, the reluctant expression. Levi knew it well. Had seen it a dozen times. That piece of shit was sending this poor kid in there to rob the place.

Christ, he hated this job.

Levi looked around at the four cameras, two on his left side facing the doors and two directly in front of him above the coolers on the back wall. There was no way this boy wouldn’t get caught. They always got caught. For nothing. There was never more than a hundred bucks in the till tops. Even on weekends. Sometimes Levi wondered if people just wanted to go to jail for a safe place to sleep for the night. It was the only thing that made sense. Desperation bred creativity.

The bell dinged as the boy pulled open the door and stepped inside, hood now up. There was a smear of blood on his cheek, which was already an angry red and starting to swell. The boy’s gaze jerked to him, then away, before stepping into an aisle where he probably thought Levi couldn’t see him.

But he could. The camera monitors were on the second shelf out of view from customers, but directly in front of Levi. He could look all he wanted. Now that the boy was closer, Levi could see he wasn’t as young as he’d thought, maybe Levi’s age–possibly a year or two younger–but not a kid.

Levi’s reluctant thief was cute in that teen heartthrob kind of way. His chocolate curls were springy and hung in his eyes. He had golden skin, full lips and a mole that sat just to the right side of his frowning mouth. Even with the swelling, he was still pretty, almost…feminine.

Levi sighed. He really didn’t want to send someone that cute to jail. He wouldn’t last long there. Maybe he could bribe him with whatever money he had? He’d done it before. Usually only with the unhoused. It was hard to get tweakers to focus long enough to take a deal.

The boy didn’t look like the typical addict, but he was growing agitated with each passing second. He had his hands in his pockets and he was pacing, talking to himself. Was he giving himself a pep talk? Trying to convince himself he could rob the place?

Levi looked outside, but the real culprit was gone. Of course, he was. What kind of chicken shit let someone else do their dirty work for them? The kind that beat the shit out of someone outside a convenience store in the middle of the night, clearly.

Levi shook his head, his gaze dropping back to the cameras. Unease trickled down his spine like icy water as he saw the boy pull something from his pocket. It was still obscured by his side, but Levi knew it was a weapon.

Luckily, the cameras didn’t.

While there were four cameras, the back right camera had been down for months and despite the frequency with which they were robbed, Levi’s cheapskate boss, hadn’t felt any sense of urgency on getting it repaired.

The cameras had never been the deterrent the owner thought they’d be when he installed them. If anything, all they did was help the cops and the insurance company when he filed his many, many claims. At this rate, he likely made more off the insurance money than the actual store itself. He’d told Levi a dozen times that there was no point throwing good money after bad.

Levi’s heart tripped as the boy seemed to come to some internal decision, finally stepping free from the aisle, a gun was in his right hand. His very shaky right hand. He was sweating. Rivulets rolled from his hairline, joining the tears that already stained his cheeks. His eyes were red-rimmed and blood-shot like he’d spent too much of his night crying.

Levi dropped his feet to the ground, then stood slowly. He didn’t want to spook the kid. He didn’t reach for the shotgun leaning against the wall or the panic button beneath the counter. Instead, he fixed the kid with a patient look and said, “Look, I know you don’t want to rob the place. How about I just give you fifty bucks and you go tell that piece of shit who sent you in here that it was all the money in the till? Deal?”

The boy blinked at him, voice dull as he asked, “What?”

Levi smiled, lifting his hands in the air. “I said, you don’t have to do this. You’re going to end up in jail. For what? Some loser guy who sent you to do his dirty work for him? You’re way too cute for that shit. If that’s your boyfriend you need to dump him.”

“He’s my brother,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Oh,” Levi said. Nobody understood fucked up family dynamics more than him. “Still, just take the money. I won’t call the cops. I promise there’s not much more in the register.”

Take the deal.

Others had done it. This boy just needed to do it too.

The boy stumbled closer. “I’m not here for money,” he said, his voice taking on a sharp edge like he was trying to sound tough, but instead sounded strained, like he was seconds away from cracking.

“Then what are you here for?” Levi asked, keeping his tone as soft as possible despite his heart now hammering against his rib cage with enough force to steal his breath. Levi was starting to sweat too.

He could handle a thief, but a murderer? Was this some kind of gang initiation? If it was, Levi was fucked. He didn’t want to kill this kid.

“Your brother wants me dead?” Levi asked.

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. When Levi wasn’t in school or working at this shitty store, he was killing people. Bad people like this kid’s brother. His own version of community service; something he’d been doing so long, he’d forgotten there were people in the world who might object. Like the family of someone he’d killed.

Usually, those family members kept their grief to themselves before they ended up the next name on a list. But not always.

The boy blinked sweat from his eyes, looking a little disoriented. How hard had that asshole hit him? He still hadn’t raised the gun. That was good. He was doing this under duress. There was no part of this kid that wanted to do this. It was clear he was just following orders.

“Hey, look at me. Talk to me,” Levi said, snapping his fingers to get his attention. “Your brother wants me dead?”

He gave a jerky nod, blurting out, “Y-Yes. He wants you dead.”

“Why?”

“To-To send a message,” the boy mumbled. “To let your boss know that he’s running things now.”

“My boss?” Levi said, frowning.

There was no way he was talking about the owner of the store. Nobody was sending Mr. Mendel a message by killing Levi. They had to be talking about Jericho. It was common knowledge that Levi was one of Jericho’s boys and that they routinely took out people in the community who took advantage of others. But nobody had ever been ballsy enough to ever challenge Jericho directly.

“The mechanic,” he said. “The one who took out the 4Loco gang.”

Levi frowned, trying to follow the boy's words. “Your brother was 4Loco? He’s a little late to the party. We took them out months ago.”

He shook his head, hand flexing around the metal grip of the gun, a Browning .9 mm. “No. Look, just—I’m—I’m really sorry, but if I don’t do this, he’ll kill me, too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Levi didn’t know how to help him. “What’s your name?” he heard himself ask.

“Shiloh,” the boy said, eyes going wide as soon as he said it, the color draining from his face.

“There’s cameras everywhere, Shiloh,” Levi finally admitted, pointing to them vaguely.

Shiloh’s nod was jerky, his lip quivering. “I know. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what happens to me. He’s fucking crazy. He already framed my other brother for murder. I guess I’m next.”

It was hard to believe there was a family member out there worse than Naomi, but it sounded like this kid's brother was coming to take the title. Levi could see how much he was suffering, could smell his fear, could see dread pulling down the corners of his mouth.

Shiloh stumbled forward until he was a little less than an arm’s length away, finger twitching on the trigger but gun still at his side.

Levi’s gaze dropped to the shotgun once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for it. He didn’t want to kill this kid. But he also didn’t want to die.Or have this kid go to jail.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“If you raise that gun, I can’t help you anymore, Shiloh. Right now, the cameras just think we’re having a real intense conversation about the weather, but the second you raise your hand, shit gets real. If you kill me, your brother will be the least of your problems, because my brothers will not stop until they get revenge.”

Please don’t do it. Just run. Go. Get out of here.

A frustrated sob broke from Shiloh’s lips, his face twisting into a look so hopeless it broke Levi’s heart. “Nobody can help me,” he said, voice cracking.

Then it happened.

Shiloh swung his arm up, leveling the gun an inch from Levi’s nose. It was a rookie mistake. One that would have gotten anyone else a bullet to the skull. But Levi wasn’t thinking about revenge, he was thinking about this sad boy and his sad eyes.

He grabbed Shiloh’s wrist, yanking him forward, obscuring the gun from the camera’s view. Shiloh cried out in surprise, staring at him with wild eyes. Pretty eyes. Honey brown eyes with flecks of green in them. He struggled in Levi’s grip, lips parted, his face close enough for Levi to feel his breath panting against his face.

If he didn’t relax, he was going to hurt himself, or Levi. But he was too far gone, clearly lost in a fog of panic.

Levi didn’t know why he did it. It wasn’t a conscious choice. But he did. With his free hand, he snagged Shiloh by his hoodie and dragged him that last inch, crashing their mouths together. Shiloh went rigid against him, his startled cry vibrating against Levi’s lips in a way that shot lightning through his blood.

Levi tried to rationalize his actions. It was better Mr. Mendel thought Levi was making out with his boyfriend, rather than thinking Shiloh was a potential murderer. But it was a lie. He’d just wanted to know what he tasted like, had wanted to see him flustered over something good.

Shiloh’s lips were soft and tasted like something almost citrusy. He smelled faintly of sweat and coconut. Levi couldn’t get enough.

But  Shiloh was making these sort of keening noises as he fought Levi’s grip and as much as it was turning Levi on, he knew he had to let him go. He didn’t want to be someone else who assaulted him, no matter how altruistic his intentions.

But then something happened. Shiloh’s mouth softened, his lips parting, a tiny whine escaping that went straight to Levi’s now half-hard cock. He could have stopped it right then. He could have slipped the gun from his hand and pushed him away, sending him back to his shithead brother.

Instead, he gripped Shiloh’s chin between thumb and forefinger, tugging his mouth open wider before slipping his tongue inside. Once more, Shiloh made this helpless sound, but this time Levi just swallowed it down, deepening the kiss, groaning when the boy melted against him.

Fuck, he tasted so sweet and he was so…submissive, letting Levi take what he wanted. Which was dangerous. No matter how much Shiloh gave, Levi wanted more. He wanted to drag him over the counter and sit him in his lap and show him a much better way to spend his night. He wanted to take him back to his apartment, strip him down and spend the night seeing what buttons he had to push to get him to keep making those whiny, helpless sounds.

It took him longer than it should to register that something was vibrating between them. The gun slipped from Shiloh’s fingers, clattering to the floor, then he began struggling against Levi once more, harder this time. He  reluctantly let him go, taking a step back. Shiloh’s lips were pink and his face flushed. He looked…debauched. Was that a word?

Shiloh’s miserable gaze fell to his phone, apprehension tugging at his features, making him look somehow both older and younger at the same time.

Levi wanted to help him, wanted to tell him not to go, that he would protect him, take care of him. But that was fucking insane. .

“He’s going to kill me now,” Shiloh whispered almost to himself. Then his gaze flicked  to Levi, expression bleak. “I’m-I’m really sorry…about all of it. I didn’t want to do it.”

Before Levi could formulate any kind of coherent thought, Shiloh was turning on his heel, hurrying out the doors and into the night.

“Wait,” he shouted, but he was already gone.

Levi stared after him for a long moment, lips tingling, dick hard, a gun lying at his feet. All because he’d kissed a boy sent to kill him. And now that boy was going to die.

Because of Levi.

He couldn’t let that happen. He hopped over the counter, bolting out the doors, looking up and down the street.

But Shiloh was gone.

Had he ducked into an alley? Had his brother been waiting there for him?

Fear sloshed in Levi’s gut. He didn’t know what to do. He gave one last look, then walked back into the store. He retrieved the gun, noting that the safety was still on. Christ, why would his brother send someone so unqualified to do this job? Especially if it was to send a message. He pocketed the weapon and grabbed his phone, already knowing he was about to get an earful.

Jericho answered on the third ring, voice a low rumble as he said, “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help.”