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“You okay?” Sander walked toward me but kept the gun on the junky.
“I’m fine. I think I’m fine.” I scrambled to my feet and stared down at the guy as he writhed in pain. “Is he dead?”
“Nah. I used birdshot.”
“What? Birdshot?”
“Yeah, little pellets. They don’t kill him, but they hurt like hell.”
“Oh fuck you,” the junky moaned. “Oh my god. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. This hurts so much. You shot me you asshole. You fucking shot me.”
I kicked him as hard as I could in the ribs then began to collect the pills.
“Call Owain,” Sander said. “He needs to come clean this mess up. I’ll keep him covered. Use the phone up front.”
“Right.” I shoved the bottles into the bag and ran into the main part of the store. Sander’s bullet proof enclosure stood open and I stepped inside. The phone was under the counter, and I quickly dialed Owain’s number, surprised that I knew it by heart already.
He answered on the third ring. “The fuck do you want, Sander? Is Leigh okay?”
“It’s me. I’m okay.”
Brief pause. He must’ve been surprised. “Leigh. Why are you calling from Sander’s phone?”
“Some guy tried to rob me. But it’s fine, Sander shot him with birdshot and now he’s lying on the ground really angry. He’s not dead or whatever.”
“Are you okay?” Owain’s tone was darker, more insistent.
“I’m fine. Seriously, I’m fine.” I laughed a little, trying to make him understand that I was physically unharmed. “Sander says you need to come clean it up.”
“I’m on my way.” He hung up.
I stood there and stared down at the receiver. My hands shook and my heart raced so fast I thought I might vomit. I dropped down and hugged my knees, sitting on the floor, taking deep breaths to try and get myself under control.
I went insane back there. I must’ve lost my mind completely. That guy wasn’t very big or threatening, but he had a knife and he was desperate and he was still bigger than me. I don’t know what I was thinking, attacking him like that. If Sander hadn’t come back when he did, I would’ve been dead on the ground. There was no doubt in my mind that junky idiot would’ve stabbed me without thinking twice about it.
Maybe it was all this time around Owain. I was getting desensitized to violence, and that scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t a violent person and I wasn’t interested in hurting people. And yet when I had the chance to attack, I took it without hesitating, all to defend some pills and some money. I risked my life for money, and that wasn’t the kind of person I thought I was.
I hated it. God, I hated it.
But I couldn’t run from it, either.
Like it or not, I was in a violent business now. I was in the drug trade, and that necessarily came with certain facts.
That wasn’t the last asshole that would try and rob me. The thought sent a chill down my spine. It was going to happen again, and when it did I had to be ready for it. Otherwise, I’d end up dead.
Owain showed up about five minutes later. I heard his car screech to a halt outside and his door slam. He flew into the front door with his gun out, his eyes wide and his face red with anger and exertion. I stood up and stared at him, and tried to smile a little bit to take the edge off his rage.
“Where is he?”
“In the back.”
He looked away from me and stormed toward the door.
“Wait, Owain.” I left Sander’s cube and followed him. “Hold on. Sander’s got him covered. There’s no need—”
He kicked the door open and walked in to the back. Sander stood over the groaning junky with the shotgun inches from his head. He looked up and stepped back as Owain approached.
I stood in the doorway and watched as Owain kicked the guy once, twice, then rolled him over and knelt down in his face.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No,” the junky said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got shot. I need a doctor.”
Owain pressed his gun against the guy’s head. “You tried to steal from me. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean… I just wasn’t…”
“Worst of all, you robbed her. You picked the wrong place to fuck with.”
“Wait.” I stepped over, hands out. “Owain, don’t.”
He hesitated. I could tell he wanted to squeeze that trigger and kill the bastard, but he looked up at me with a strange, puzzled expression.
“Don’t kill him,” I said.
“Why not? Give me one reason.”
“Because I don’t want you to.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Owain, no.” I walked over to him and grabbed his arm. He growled at me like a rabid dog and bared his teeth, but he didn’t shake my off. I pulled at him and he stood and let me lead him a few feet away. The junky started crawling toward the door.
