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Chapter Text

Shaundi kept her pistol aimed at Josh Birk's head. She hoped he'd give her the excuse to shoot him; he would be better off dead. She crossed her legs; her purple polyester pants made a noise protesting the movement against the black suede couch she sat on. It gave Josh an excuse to look at the woman yet again. She was exotic, like a leopard. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, allowing a stray strand to tease the side of her face. She was slender with tanned skin, like a model. She looked Italian or Spanish. Josh had a thing for models. He was also a bit masochistic.

A few feet away from them sat Pierce and Oleg, who was playing chess. Pierce looked like a typical black posh gangster, and Oleg looked like a typical huge bodyguard on steroids. Pierce slid a small chess piece across the board and looked at Oleg, who didn't take his eyes off the board.

"Put the gun down." Josh broke the silence. "I won't run."

Shaundi scoffed a bit, her gun hand not moving an inch off of its target. "Yeah, I'm good."

Josh grinned wide, completely misunderstanding her. "I felt that the moment we met. That connection."

Shaundi stilled. "What?" That one word dripped disbelief and disgust.

The man leaned towards her, his coffee-colored strands of hair catching the sun. He gave her his best smoldering look, willing her to fall for his charm. "Forbidden love."

"Oh my God, can I just shoot this guy?" Shaundi looked at Pierce and Oleg.

"Play nice, now." All four heads turned towards the stairway to see their leader descending the stairs. Jamien's eyes gave Shaundi a clear warning, but his smile was playful. "You got the stuff, Pierce?"

Oleg and Pierce both reached down for a dark green duffel bag that sat at their feet, but Oleg got to it first. "Allow me, friend." He dropped the bag on the chess board, scattering pieces everywhere.

"You did that on purpose." Pierce frowned. Oleg gave an innocent shrug.

"Alright, let's go STAG hunting." Jamien picked up the bag.

Downstairs, there were two Saints cars parked at the curb, both painted harlequin purple, one a two-door Sovereign and the other a four-door Infuego. "Think you can pick a fight with STAG by yourself?"

Jamien tossed a surprised look to Pierce, who was moving towards the sports car. "Oh, you're not coming?" He approached his Infuego.

Pierce shook his head. "Going to pick up a surprise for STAG. You know how to use a Molotov?"

Jamien cut his eyes at his new second-in-command. "Yes, Pierce." He said dryly, "I know how to throw a fucking bottle." He got in the car and slammed the door hard enough to shake the car.

"Jesus, I was just askin'." Pierce watched the car pull away.

Jamien never had much patience to be a responsible driver, and as he drove to the STAG PR Center, he had just enough patience not to hit anyone. Driving on the correct side of the street was another matter. As he expected, the building was surrounded by STAG officers either standing around with their guns out and ready or sitting in their mini-tanks, N-Forcers, waiting to shoot. And it had started out as a pretty day.

Jamien noted the STAG recruit advertisement stretched across the building, split into two banners. He smiled. "Oh, these banners have to go on principal. A few Molotovs should do it." As soon as the first Molotov left his hand, bullets started flying. Jamien heard the sound of metal hitting metal, but paid little attention to it. His first throw missed the banner and instead broke over a STAG officer's head, who went up in flames. "Shit." He sighed, ran closer, and tried again. His second attempt torched one-half of the banner. A bullet connected with his shoulder and he staggered but caught himself. As the senior-most member of the Saints, he'd built up a phenomenal tolerance for pain. It sucks to be them. Another flaming bottle connected with the second half of the banner and Jamien'. He smiled, proud of himself. Now all he had to do was go back to the penthouse. He took out his phone and hit one button, speed dialing Oleg, the big Russian brute. "Oleg, they're on the way. We ready?"

"Yes, be careful not to set off the bombs when you get close. I'll be monitoring STAG's approach from our security room." The line disconnected. Jamien made a mental note to hang up on the next person he called or who called him. Rude bastards.

He turned around to find his getaway car surrounded by his armor-clad enemies. "Ah. Fuck." Instinct drove him to reach into his jacket and throw a hand grenade at them. Good news? That promptly killed all of those troublesome STAGs. Bad news? That also killed his shiny gang car. "FUCK!" Once again, Jamien would have to make his escape on foot. He contemplated stealing an N-Forcer, but there were too many STAG officers to take out to successfully get into one. "Oh, come the fuck on! Gimme a break here!" The wind picked up, causing him to shield his eyes from the dirt it carried, bringing his attention to the street behind the flaming wreckage that had been a perfectly good car. "Oh, yeah..." He immediately made a run for it. He darted past and around the remaining (and shooting) STAGs to the busy intersection. He narrowly missed being run over by an elderly lady driving a Churchill, who seemed to be more interested in what station she would listen to than pedestrians she could kill. The second car showed more promise. It was going in the opposite direction that he needed to go, but it was newer and faster all-black Neuron. "Eh, it'll do, I guess." Jamien shrugged and dashed across the street, coming to a stop in the path of the car.

The driver slammed on her brakes and began honking angrily. He ran to the driver side, broke the window with his elbow, opened the door and yanked the woman out. "Oh, how sweet. You kept it running for me." The young woman sitting in the passenger seat started screaming, but Jamien ignored her. "Thanks!" He jumped over her and into the car, which had started rolling down the street. He gave the car a little gas, to move the car safely away from the woman, then floored it, tires screeching.

Chapter Text

"Are you absolutely sure about this, Denitra?" Vanessa tried to keep her eyes on the road as she drove away from Wesley Cutter International Airport, in the black Neuron that she'd rented. "Of all the colleges here in America, you choose one so close to home."

Denitra bit the inside of her lip, choosing her words with care. "Mama, we've discussed this a thousand times. It's what I want to do. Besides, you said you didn't want me too far from home in case there was an emergency. This way, we're compromising. Steelport is only an hour away from Stilwater." She ran a hand through her hair and looked out the window.

Vanessa bit her lip and sighed. "I know. I know. It's just, after what happened at Stilwater University with Layla -"

"Mama, no." She put her hands over her ears. She knew it was childish, but she did it to keep from crying. Layla's death was still a fresh wound in her heart, even though it had been years since it happened. "Do not bring that up if you want me to come home for any holiday this semester."

Vanessa flinched visibly but heeded her only child's warning. It had taken a year for Denitra to even get out of her room, and another two to convince her to go to another school. Although the Stilwater University Massacre had made national news and got donations that totaled over a million dollars, most of the money went to the families of the students and teachers killed in the gang war. There was barely enough left to repair the damage done to the building itself, much less help hire new teachers who made demands for higher pay. It didn't take long for the school to only offer online classes. It now faced being shut down for good. Denitra had been content with taking her classes online, but she'd been forced to transfer to the nearest college, University at Steelport. Unfortunately, med students were required to attend their classes on campus beyond the second year.

Today, Vanessa was taking Denitra shopping for things to fill her dorm room. "At least you're allowing me to take you shopping. It's been a while since we had time like this together."

Denitra tried not to smile. "Mama..."

Vanessa smiled brightly. "Think about it. This is the first time, ever, that you'll be away from me and your dad. It's like you're moving out."

"I kinda am." She shrugged shyly. "It had to happen at some point."

"I know," Vanessa whined, "But now? This gang issue is getting worse by the day. For instance, a couple of weeks ago a plane crashed here. People were killed by cars that fell out of it."

Denitra looked at her. "Um, and that has what to do with gangs?"

"They were all gang cars. Filled with random things like guns and drugs."

Denitra nodded, checking the time on the car's radio. "Okay, Mama. If you say so."

"What? I'm telling the truth."

"I know, Mama."

"Denitra."

"Yes, ma'am?"

She pouted. "I'm serious. It's probably more dangerous here than back at home."

Denitra scoffed and shook her head. "What's the worst that could happen here?"

Denitra pressed herself up against her door, facing the stranger that now drove the car. "Oh. My. God." She squeaked.

He spared her a sideways glance, freezing her in the seat. His eyes were a vibrant sapphire blue, set in a face that was both intimidating and charming framed by matte black hair that reached his shoulders. She didn't know whether to scream or say hi. "Oh. Hi, there." He nodded in her direction, showcasing his angular jawline and the slight dimple in his chin. "Well, I'm Jamien, and I'll be your new driver today." He suddenly slammed on the brake, cut the steering, and power slid the car around a corner. The sudden, violent change in direction snapped Denitra out of her stupor, bringing her attention to the sirens and bullets that followed them diligently.

"P-please. Let me out." She pressed herself against her seat in the proper position, holding onto the seat belt and praying she wouldn't die today.

The man looked at her, amused. "Aw, but you seem to be having so much fun."

She wished he wouldn't smirk like that. It drew attention to his lips. She slid into the door with enough force to hurt her head as he drifted around another corner. "Ouch!"

"Sorry. I'm trying to shake them." He muttered.

"Can you let me out?" She tried again.

"Uh, no." He shook his head slightly.

"Why the hell not?"

"I need you."

She blinked several times. "What do you need me for?"

"Hostage."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"You'll be my ticket out if I can't shake them."

"And what makes you think I'll stay in the car?"

"Would you rather risk those big ass tires make a meat puddle out of you?" He jerked his head in the direction of his pursuers.

She looked back at the tan armored tanks. The tires on them would fit a diesel truck. "Oh..." The sound of bullets pounding the car intensified, prompting her to try again. "Please, let me out."

"Since you asked so nicely...no." He gave her a dazzling smile. Her mouth went dry. She looked away, cleared her throat, and glared at him.

"If you don't let me out, I'll grab the steering wheel and make us crash."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart, as he weaved in and out of oncoming traffic. "You'll kill me!"

She folded her arms. "Ask me if I care."

"Do you care?"

"Why in the hell would I? I don't know you!"

He nodded. "Point taken. You'll kill yourself, then."

"If I stay in this car with you, I'll be killed anyway." She countered.

"Another good point." He leaned back in the seat, one arm on the center armrest, teasing his chin.

"So, let me out. I have to get back to my mama. Or even just slow down enough for me to jump out without them running me over. Please."

He looked back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror, considering her plea. He looked at her, and she just knew he would say no. The look in his eyes softened, and he mumbled. "Eh. Okay, okay." He swerved the car onto the sidewalk, plowing through the pedestrians.

"CAN YOU WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE GOING?" Denitra screeched as bodies thudded and bounced off of the hood and windshield, cracking it.

Jamien scoffed. "Oh, they'll be okay. They always get back up." He looked in the rearview mirror and cringed. "Oh. Well, except for those...few. And those people, too. That had to hurt. Just a little."

Denitra stared at him, shocked at his violent disregard for human life. "You. Monster." She yanked on the door handle, and the door swung open. "Slow down!"

As soon as her foot touched the ground, an N-Forcer rammed into the back of the car, shooting it forward. Denitra cowered back into the car, against the stranger's arm. He pushed the gas hard, the force slamming her door shut. "Put on your seatbelt." He commanded, and she obeyed. The back windshield shattered as bullets pelted the car, and Denitra screamed. "Son of a bitch!" He reached over and grabbed the back of Denitra's head and forced it down between her knees. "Stay like that until I tell you otherwise and you might make it through this."

Denitra began to pray that she'd live to see tomorrow. She squeezed her eyes shut and listened to the noises. Gunfire. The engine revving and the tires sliding across the pavement. Her heartbeat pounding in her chest. The car came to an abrupt halt, and a cool summer breeze blew through the car.

"Come on."

She looked up to see him standing outside of the car, leaning in with a hand held out for her. She glanced at his hand then followed his arm up to his face. Even with the faint scars, he was handsome. "W-what? No." She frowned, talking more to herself than him. She looked into his eyes, trying not to focus on the amazing color. "No, I'm gonna-" Bullets sprayed her side of the car, and she screamed out in pain. She grabbed her shoulder and looked at her hand, covered in blood. "Oh, my God."

"I don't think they have high regards for your safety." He shouted over the sound of gunfire. He grabbed her bloody hand and yanked her out of his side of the car. She stumbled behind him, struggling to keep up with his long strides, as he led her to the building's front door. She looked up. A skyscraper. She hated towers. He pushed the elevator button and looked at her, then flashed a mega-watt smile. "Going up?"

"What the hell is their problem? I'm an innocent bystander. They should watch where the hell they're shooting!" She yelled as he gently pushed her onto the elevator.

He hit another button and shrug, giving her a smile that oozed sex appeal. "Well, you know. When you're a Saint, there will always be sinners out to get you."

A chill ran down her spine as she caught off guard by how white his teeth were. She looked down at her feet. "S-saint? As in the Third Street Saints from Stilwater?" He nodded, hair dancing with the movement. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

He put a toothpick in his mouth and shoved his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. "Ah, I like to call it..." He searched for the words as the elevator doors opened. "Business Venturing." He gestured for her to go ahead.

She stepped off of the elevator and turned, expecting him to follow, but instead he hit another button. "Where am I and where are you going?"

"Got business to take care of. Stay on this level no matter what. I'll be right back, sweetheart." He winked and disappeared behind metal doors.

The silence that followed was unsettling. She looked around and got the impression she was in a basement, which was confusing because she knew she was in a high rise apartment building and had gone up in the elevator. The cement walls looked impenetrable. Cages with guns and ammunition were everywhere. And just ten minutes ago, she was with her mom, on their way to go shopping. Ten minutes ago, the world was as it should be. Nine minutes ago, she fell into the bowels of hell.

"Damn him!" She shouted and kicked a box, which clinked as if it had metal in it. She jumped, afraid she'd inadvertently set off a chain of explosions. She could imagine his charming smile turn deadly. She had to admit he had a killer smile. She hugged herself and sat down on an overturned empty crate. His smile was haunting her. Or was it his eyes? She had seen tons of people with blue eyes, but no one with the shade that he had. Thinking of his eyes made her tingle. He was attractive, but he was also a Saint. It didn't matter if he was the sexiest man alive, she hated him. The Saints were the ones to initiate the gunfight with the Sons of Samedi. And it was a Saint who used Layla as a human shield.

Hot tears filled her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't let him get to her, get underneath her skin. Layla would want her to be strong, to give them hell. And she would do that, for Layla. For herself.

The building shook hard, throwing her off of her crate and onto the floor. "What the hell?" She had difficulty standing; the tremors didn't stop. Using the wall as a crutch, she listened. Constant gunfire and explosions. She'd watched a World War II film once back in school. She imagined it sounded very close to this. Another explosion shook the building and threw her onto the floor. This time she chose to stay there. She sat with her back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Five minutes later, she was about ready to take her chances and run for it. The tremors were like earthquakes now, and it sounded like the fight was right below her. 'Stay on this level no matter what.' Fuck that. She hit the button for the elevator, but it was on another floor. She looked around and saw stairs leading upstairs. She'd take her chances. Once she reached the top, she saw Saints members running downstairs that led up to another level, guns of all sorts in their hands. "Wha-"

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder as she felt someone lean against her back and put their lips to her ear. "I thought I told you to stay downstairs, hm?"

She whirled around to face him, Jamien. "But I heard explosions and-"

He rolled his eyes and pushed her aside, into another man's arms. "Pierce, watch this one, will you?"

The man looked at her. He could have passed as Layla's older brother. "Um, okay?"

"And who the fuck is that?" A Latina girl frowned, narrowing her dark brown eyes. "Now isn't really the time to bring back stray ass."

Jamien gave her a strained smile. She watched as his bright sapphire blue lost their shine, turning into lifeless blue orbs. It was so unnerving that Denitra had to look away. "Remember, you wanted a maid."

He brushed past her, leaving them to follow him. "Maid?" Shaundi mouthed, confused. Outside, military jets, VTOLs, circled the penthouse like vultures over dying prey. A sense of dread washed over Denitra, and she stopped walking.

"Keep it moving, baby." Pierce gave her a push, making sure he kept her near Jamien. Denitra watched as a bigger, bulkier jet descended to land on the helipad that hung off of the side of the penthouse. The cargo door dropped open, and a tall man stepped off, clearly the commander of the STAGs.

"Surrender, kid. We got the perimeter." He even sounded military, Denitra thought. How cliche.

The Latina girl pushed a man forward and put the violent end of her pistol to the back of his head. "Yeah, but we got your poster boy."

Pierce's arm wrapped around Denitra, anchoring her against his body by her shoulders. "And a civilian."

Jamien looked at said "poster boy" then Denitra. Heat crept up to her cheeks as his eyes lingered on her, back to their original, startling blue. If she didn't know better, she'd say she was developing an obsession with the man's eyes. He turned his attention to the man in front of him. "I want STAG out of my city."

"Not gonna happen." He locked his hands behind his back, sticking his chest and chin arrogantly. The man had to have marinated in bad vibes because that's all that radiated off of him. It made Denitra uneasy. "STAG's mission is to eradicate the gangs in Steelport. But, where to focus the firepower is my call. Release Birk, and we'll hammer the Syndicate for a while. Give you boys a little breathing room."

"What about the girl?" Jamien asked, nodding towards Denitra, sounding every bit as confused as Denitra felt. "No offer for her?"

The man shook his head. "Our objective aims to be beneficial to thousands, not just one person. There is no deal for her from us. Steelport police will handle the responsibility for her."

"Well, damn," Pierce whispered. Damn, indeed.

Denitra nervously looked around. "How do you want to play it?" The Latina girl asked Jamien.

"No longer shall I hide from my one true love and her cause." That voice sounded familiar. "Allow Shaundi and I to be together, and I swear her enemies...will be my enemies."

Denitra gasped. "Wait, is that the guy who plays Nyte Blayde on TV?"

"Oh no, no, no, fuck no. Don't even think about keeping that prick around. I will lose my damn mind!"

"You have sixty seconds to decide." The military man announced.

Jamien twitched then reached for Josh. "You owe me, Shaundi." He pushed the man towards the STAG officers.

"Whatever you want, just ask for it, anytime." She sounded so relieved that Denitra wondered just how bad it could have been to have spent time in Nyte Blayde's company. She wasn't a huge fan of the show, but she did like it.

"Prepare to open fire on the building."

"WHAT?" Jamien shouted at the man as he and his underlings rushed to their plane.

Immediate chaos ensued. "He's still firing! Jump for it!" Shaundi shouted, and people made a mad dash for the edge of the roof.

Jamien turned towards her and grabbed her uninjured arm as he ran. "Time to move our asses!"

"Jump? W-wait, you don't understand." She put dead weight on her feet, refusing to move. "I have on a dress! I-I have a-" Jamien threw himself off of the roof, yanking Denitra down with him. "-TERRIBLE FEAR OF HEIGHTS!"

Chapter Text

Cyrus returned the stare of the man standing in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line of a defeated scowl. He took his time sitting down in the chair positioned at the desk and didn't take his eyes off of his unexpected guest. Cyrus didn't want the man to think he had bested him in an argument about morals and priorities. However, it did look like the man wouldn't hesitate to choke the shit out of him if need be. Self-preservation.

"Don't you think you've wasted enough time already? Hurry up and call her." The man's fists were balled up tightly at his sides, shaking slightly.

Cyrus punched in the phone number, noting the time as it rang.

"This had better be important. It's almost midnight." Monica Hughes sounded as if she had been asleep for a while.

"I wouldn't bother you if it weren't, ma'am," Cyrus assured her, voice empty of emotion. The man in front of him folded his arms impatiently. It occurred to Cyrus then that maybe the man hadn't been in this sort of situation before. Pampered political idiots.

"Then what's the problem?"

The man leaned over. "Your precious military circus blew up a building with my daughter in it!"

"For the last time, she wasn't in the building." Cyrus frowned.

There was silence before Monica responded. "Who is that?"

"Then where was she, hm? Traffic cameras show the car her mother rented had N-Forcers, your officers, in pursuit. That same car ended up at the building you gave your men orders to go to. Those same cameras show her being dragged inside by a man. Nearly thirty minutes later, you blow up the top of the building!"

"Mayor Wesley Fuller...is that you?" Cyrus suppressed a groan at the recognition in Monica's voice.

"Yes, Monica." He bit his lip.

"You said your daughter. Denitra?"

"Yes, Denitra... If she survived the attack." Wesley glared at Cyrus, who returned it.

"She isn't dead." Cyrus fought to keep himself from getting angrier.

"Why, if you had an opportunity to rescue her, didn't you?"

"As I told you when you barged in here with your ridiculous accusations, I am not here in Steelport to save one life, but thousands. At the time, my primary objective was to fulfill the wishes of my superior, Senator Hughes. I was to retrieve Josh Birk, and that's it." Cyrus leaned back in his chair, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

"THEN WHY DID YOU BLOW UP THE PENTHOUSE?"

Cyrus shrugged. "It was necessary to slow the enemy down. Leaving their stronghold intact would not have helped us in any way. It cut down on their numbers and forced them to scatter. They're disorganized right now."

"AND WHAT ABOUT MY DAUGHTER?"

"I saw her jump off the building with the Leader of the Saints." Cyrus stood and turned away from the man, looking out at the quiet streets of downtown Steelport below.

"The Saints?"

Cyrus heard the shock in the man's voice and turned around. "You haven't noticed how much quieter it is in Stilwater? They've moved here now, multiplying like cockroaches. I fully intend to exterminate every single one of them."

"My sincerest apologies, Wesley." Monica broke in.

"I-I don't want apologies, Monica. I want Denitra back, safely." He leaned towards the phone and his voice dropped to a whisper, "Help me bring my baby home, alive."

Another moment of silence hung in the air, as they all realized just how difficult that would be. "I'll call in some favors with the Mayor of Steelport and the Chief of Police. The three of us will get the police force there to start searching for her. But it'll have to wait until morning when I know we'll all be in our offices and have access to the phone numbers and people we'll need."

Wesley sighed. "It's only one night. I can only hope she's at least provided a decent cot to sleep on and food to eat to tie her over until tomorrow."

"You sound like you need some sleep yourself. Go home and rest. In the morning you can head down to the precinct. I'll call in a favor and have the police assist you in recovering Denitra."Monica assured him.

He sighed again. "Thank you, Monica. Though I hate to think of what she'll go through until then, I know it's the best you can do on such short notice."

"Thank you for understanding. With both STAG and the police on their tail, the Saints won't even be able to piss in peace."

Chapter Text

Jamien hated drinking excessively. Sure, there were days when he'd pound down 40's and smoke a blunt before doing a mission, but he'd learned since then that being inebriated made it harder for him to shoot accurately. It stopped him from second-guessing himself, but prolonged shootouts. Besides, it was harder to enjoy things when well and truly wasted. It made his memory fuzzy. According to Pierce, there were plenty of stuff that Jamien later wanted to remember. Good things.

He tossed back a shot of vodka and put another toothpick in his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he resumed carefully digging out the bullet that had lodged itself in his shoulder.

"Seriously, a doctor is out of the question?" Pierce asked, cringing as more blood poured from the wound.

"We can't take a chance that STAG is watching the hospitals," Shaundi explained, diligently wiping away the blood for Jamien.

"Yeah," Jamien grunted. "This is just a flesh wound. I'm not dying."

"But you could." Pierce turned away, unable to stomach any more gore.

Jamien laughed. "You're such a pussy! We've been doing this for years, man. Why does it bother you all of a sudden?"

Pierce shrugged. "I guess it's different when you're doing it to someone else. Seeing you do it to yourself... Well, it makes me wonder just how insane you are."

"Hey, but you trust me with your life, right?" Jamien poured another shot with his free hand then held the glass up to Pierce. "Need a drink?"

Pierce gladly accepted it. "I thought you were a Jack Daniel's fan."

"I am. So much so, that if I start, it'll be sometime next week before I stop." He grinned. With a wet pop, the bullet hit the counter of the bar where they sat, and Jamien let out a groan. "Fuck, that hurt." He rotated the shoulder that he'd kept still for hours and sighed.

"Geez, it's after midnight. That took you about four hours. You okay?" Shaundi asked pressing the wound with gauze to try to slow the blood. "You probably shouldn't have had any alcohol, all it did was thin your blood. You could bleed out."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Jamien waved dismissively. "I thought about smoking a little weed, but then I thought," he tilted his head back thoughtfully, "would it work? Could I possibly get high enough to dig a bullet out of my body? I mean, sure, it would take the pain away, but would I be able to function properly? Then I realized that I work better drunk than high."

"I'm amazed you thought it out." Shaundi shook her head. "It's slowing down..." She kept patting.

"No, you should be amazed she didn't wake up while I stitched up her shoulder." He pointed to the girl who laid on the couch on the other side of the bar, still unconscious. "Pierce would have woke up screaming." He let out a mock shrill scream.

"Would not." Pierce frowned.

Shaundi frowned, eyeing the girl. "She's still around? Why didn't you dump her off somewhere?"

Pierce poked her, testing to see if she'd wake. "Is she still alive?"

Jamien poured himself a glass of vodka and Red Bull. "Yes, she's still around. I couldn't just dump her off somewhere, and she's unconscious. There's no telling what would happen to her. And, as far as I know, she's still alive." He sipped his drink. Pierce put a finger under the girl's nose, felt her breath, and nodded in agreement.

"Get rid of her. She'll only slow us down." Shaundi shook her head and crossed her arms. "What happened to Candi? That stripper you like so much? If she sees you have a new piece of ass-"

Jamien didn't like that at all. Who the hell was Shaundi to tell him what to do? Before he realized it, he'd pulled his .45 Shepherd out and laid it on the bar counter. "Call her a piece of ass again, Shaundi. See if I won't shoot you."

Shaundi stilled, frozen with shock. "You'll shoot me? For what? She's nobody!" She gestured to the girl.

Jamien shrugged. "It's not about her. It's about your nose being in my damn business. If I ask you for your opinion on things outside of the Syndicate or STAG, then you can open your mouth and speak freely." He waved a hand in front of him and bowed slightly. "Otherwise, shut the fuck up. If I want to drag her around like a little doll, that's my fucking business. You don't hear me and Pierce bitching about your little dating show that you spend so much time doing."

Shaundi crossed her arms. "That's not fair. You told me to keep doing the show for the money."

Jamien picked up his gun, looked at it, then walked around the bar. "And you had no problem running back to it and leaving the shooting to us boys, now did you?"

Shaundi took a step towards Jamien, but Pierce stopped her. "Hey, now. We've all had a long day. We're all on edge. Let's just calm down and go back to our corners, okay?" He looked back and forth between them. "...Okay?"

Shaundi and Jamien stood still, staring each other down before Shaundi turned and walked away, muttering under her breath. Pierce let out a sigh of relief. Jamien knew better, knew it wasn't over. Over the past few years, Shaundi had changed drastically. From being a slutty, drunken pothead to an overbearing, smart ass diva, Jamien often found himself wondering which lieutenant he preferred. The jury was still out for lunch on that.

A soft moan got his attention. He turned around to see his "doll" coming around.

"Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty." Pierce smiled brightly. Jamien chuckled and leaned against the bar, knowing Pierce well enough.

The girl held a hand to her head as she sat up slowly. "What happened?"

Pierce shrugged and looked to Jamien. He had opted to jump off the opposite side of the building with the other Saints. It had taken them hours to meet up again after shaking off STAG. Jamien pulled out a pack of Newports. "You passed out."

The girl frowned. "I don't pass out."

Jamien nodded as if he agreed and lit a cigarette. "You did when we jumped off of the building. You screamed for maybe ten seconds then passed out. It's impossible not to notice when someone becomes dead weight in your arms."

The girl shook her head. "You dragged me off of that roof!"

Jamien shrugged and smiled innocently. "It was either that or let you get killed."

"Which wasn't a bad idea at the time," Shaundi added.

Jamien cut his eyes at the woman, mindful of the gun that was still in his hand. "I'm so tempted to shoot you right now, it ain't even funny." He was aware what his time with the Saints was doing to his mind. There had once been a time that he didn't care what his bullets did to the people around him, as long as he got what he wanted. For a while, that's all that mattered, getting what he wanted. Then someone who trusted Jamien with his life died, by his hand. It took a lot for Jamien to make sure that side of him didn't resurface, didn't recklessly claim another life.

Shaundi didn't respond, opting instead to sit in the lounge area and watch TV. The girl stood, barely able to do so on her own. "Can I go home now?" Jamien said no at the same time Shaundi said yes, so the girl looked at Pierce for his input.

Pierce shrugged. She looked between Pierce and Jamien a few times before turning towards the elevators. Jamien caught her in two wide steps, putting an arm around her shoulders and turning her back around. "You don't want to stay? We're having so much fun now."

She looked up at him, and for the first time, he noticed how brown her doe eyes were. She looked away suddenly, her caramel cheeks tinted red. "I have to get stuff for my dorm room. School starts next Monday, and I have to be ready."

That surprised Jamien. "Dorm? You're in college?"

She nodded. "I'm in my junior year. Pre-med."

Jamien couldn't think of one person he knew who was in college or had even once gone, to learn, not sell drugs or buy them. He looked at her, really looked at her. The contrast in their skin, her caramel one to his slightly tanned one. Her coffee colored eyes to his blue ones. Her chestnut brown hair to his black. Her womanly curves... "Nice. An educated woman." He hugged her to him.

She frowned up and immediately tried to pull away from him.

"What's the matter?" Jamien asked, amused.

"You're a Saint. I don't want you touching me." He couldn't mistake the disgust in her voice like he had an STD or something.

He pouted. "But everyone loves the Saints. Except for STAG. And the police. And other gangs. And people who've been accidentally shot or ran over. Hm. That's actually a lot of people."

She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. And he thought Shaundi's angry face was something... "You don't need me. Let me go."

"Please?" Shaundi shouted. A lamp exploded near her head.

"Damn." Jamien lowered his gun. "I must be tired. I missed."

"I'm leaving." The girl headed for the elevators once again, but Jamien grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.

"No, you're not. You haven't even told me your name."

"Why do you care about my name?"

"I told you my name. It's common courtesy to tell me yours."

"I didn't ask for it. I wanted to get let out of the car."

"And if I had, you'd be dead."

"If you hadn't stolen the car I was in, I wouldn't be here arguing with you over names."

"Is this what college does to people? Enable you to argue better?"

"Denitra." She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"What?"

"My name is Denitra." She looked at him with a scowl. "Now can I go?"

"Nope." He smiled. "Since Shaundi's hell-bent on me letting you go, I'm gonna keep you, just to show her who's the boss around here." He patted the top of her head and walked around her, stealing a glance at her backside. "Hungry?"

He had to admit - he'd like having her around.

Chapter Text

"Nope. Since Shaundi's hell-bent on me letting you go, I'm gonna keep you, just to show her who's the boss around here. Hungry?"

'And we're thrown into another pissing contest...' Pierce held back a groan of disappointment. He had hoped that their fearless leader would see reason and just let the girl go. But, of course, Shaundi had to mouth off. If Pierce had learned anything about the Boss since he'd met him back in Stilwater, it was that he couldn't stand being pushed around and told what to do. Pierce had never asked the Boss outright what caused him to be like that, but he figured that he'd been bullied when he was younger or something.

The girl only stared at Boss after her jaw dropped open in disbelief. "T-that is so childish!"

'Agreed.' Pierce thought as he shook his head. Shaundi may not have wanted Denitra around just because she was another female, but Pierce just didn't trust her. People would do anything to get near the Saints; groupies and con artists were a constant threat. Boss was too preoccupied with more important things than to stop and consider the fact that some people were bold enough to steal money from the Saints. It was Pierce's own suggestion that they stop stashing their earnings in the safes of their cribs and safe houses. With all the partying that they liked to do, it was just too easy and tempting for someone to break into the safes and steal some cash.

"There's a difference between making a suggestion and giving an order. I know she's been stressed out lately, but she needs to remember that she's only allowed to make a suggestion, not order me around."

Shaundi turned around on the couch. "So you're gonna keep this chick just to piss me off?"

"Does this really surprise you?" Boss asked, a bit surprised himself.

"Yes!" Shaundi stood.

Boss shrugged. "Well, deal with it."

Shaundi started to open her mouth but Pierce made a cutting motion with his hand at his throat, a signal for her to just shut up. He silently hoped she'd understand that she was really just making it worse. Fortunately, she did and plopped back down on the couch.

"You can't do that!" Denitra shouted.

"And just why not?" Boss asked in a child's voice, clearly taunting her.

Pierce was aware that if the girl planned everything out to make sure she was in whatever car Boss carjacked, then she was damned good. Could she have been that good? Not likely, but it didn't mean that she couldn't take advantage of her situation. He'd have to make sure her mind wasn't wandering in that direction.

"-have the right to just imprison people on a whim!" Pierce clued back into the conversation.

"If you didn't notice, I didn't have to keep you in the car. I could have just shoved your ass out with your mom and let you both get run over."

"Then why didn't you? Since when did you ever care about anyone other than yourself?"

"Karma. I try, from time to time, to put some good into the world. It increases my chances of being reincarnated as at least a sea turtle in the next life. Could you imagine being reborn as a tree or flower?" He made a face as if he was in pain before turning away from her to hide his face.

Even Pierce struggled not to laugh at her outraged expression. "YOU THINK THIS SHIT IS FUNNY?"

"You have to admit my chances of being a sea turtle are pretty slim."

"You are going to let me go." Denitra spoke evenly, fists shaking with rage at her sides. Maybe it was the tone in her voice or her body language, but the playful demeanor the Boss had slipped away as his eyes became void of emotion, leaving a cold, deadly expression on his face. Pierce had seen the look before, often right before he made a rash decision in which someone ended up dead.

"What I am going to do, is keep you here for as long as I want." His tone matched hers, but there was a lot more implied.

"No, you are not." She retorted, putting her hands on her hips.

It was hard to tell if Boss was even breathing, he stood still. Pierce realized that it was possible the kitchen island was the only thing keeping the Boss from choking the girl. An idea popped into Pierce's head. "What about a compromise?"

Both of their heads snapped to give him unfriendly looks. "What?"

Pierce sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "A compromise. Something you two can agree on."

"Like what?" Boss asked, intrigued.

Pierce looked at him then at the girl. "When does school start?"

She looked genuinely surprised he'd been paying attention. Pierce smirked. As second-in-command, it was his duty to pay attention to every little detail. She looked down at the floor, "Next Monday."

"Alright, seven days, starting from the minute he jumped in your car. Just stay seven days, and after that you can go." Pierce looked to Boss, hoping like hell the man would, for once, just agree and move on. If he did, then Pierce could talk to the girl and try talking Kinzie into doing a thorough background check on her. If she wasn't as innocent as she seemed, then he'd get rid of her himself, if she wasn't a valuable person to have. But he had to admit, she was one hell of an actress if she really did want to be there.

The Boss thought for a minute then his eyes landed on his kidnap victim. "What do you say?"

Denitra shook her head. "No. I don't want to spend another minute in the Saints' company, much less another six days!"

Pierce took a step towards her and lowered his voice. "If not, there's no telling when he'll calm down enough to get tired of terrorizing you. You're only making it worse."

She seemed to realize just how right Pierce might be. He watched her inner conflict show in her expressions as she thought it out. More than likely she'd try to make a run for it if she ever got the chance, which could only piss the Boss off. Or humor him. Or both. It had begun to seem like she wouldn't go for it when her shoulders suddenly slumped in defeat, and her whole attitude changed. "Okay." She whispered.

She sounded heartbroken. She looked lost. She was one hell of an actress if she was faking it.

The Boss's phone went off and he answered it, putting it on speaker since Shaundi and Pierce were there. "Kinzie, you find anything out about the Deckers?"

"I know a lot about the Deckers." She answered curtly.

"Well, I know that but anything we can use?"

"Tons, but you shouldn't worry about that now."

"Okay, then what should I-"

"Is Shaundi with you?" She cut him off. Upon hearing her name, Shaundi got up and made her way over to the kitchen island.

"Right here, what's going on?" Shaundi picked up the phone.

"Both of you meet me at Smiling Jack's diner, there's something you need to see."

Pierce smacked his lips. "What about me?"

"Pierce, you can-"

"Babysit." Boss nodded his head in Denitra's direction. "Me and Shaundi should be enough. If not, I'll call." He smiled as he headed towards the elevators, taking his phone from Shaundi and hanging it up. He seemed awfully happy to just hang up on Kinzie.

Denitra didn't move until the elevator closed, moving over to one of the armchairs near the windows and sitting down. Pierce started to open his mouth when he stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't ate since noon. He rubbed his hand down over his face. "Um, I'm gonna order something to eat. You want anything?"

She slowly brought her eyes up to his face. "Whatever you get is fine with me."

He thought about it then quickly dialed a phone number. "I hope Chinese takeout is okay." She didn't respond.

"May China. How can I help you?" An elderly woman's voice filled his ear.

"I want a place an order for delivery. Shrimp fried rice and beef pepper steak."

"Anything else?"

"Um, three vegetable egg rolls and extra fortune cookies." He nodded confidently. When she prompted him for the address, Pierce simply told her the name of the building. "Safeword." She let him know that it would take fifteen minutes and hung up on him. If she had told him anything but fifteen minutes, Pierce would've canceled the order; the place was literally on the end of the street. He looked over at Denitra and felt bad for her. She looked miserable despite her rainbow-colored sundress and yellow flip-flops. A modern hippie, maybe?

He moved over to the bar and pulled out two wine glasses and a bottle of unopened wine. "Do you drink? You look like you need something to cheer you up."

She glanced at him before looking out of the window again. "Yeah, I drink."

"Great!" He sat down in front of her, placing the glasses on the table between them then filling them with the cranberry colored liquid. "So, do you live here in Steelport?"

She shook her head and picked up her glass, tentatively taking a sip. "Stilwater."

He nodded and regarded her, noting her posture and facial expression. She was telling the truth. "So then, what are you doing here in Steelport?"

"Like I said earlier, college. Stilwater University will be closing its doors soon, permanently." She looked at him and gave him an unfriendly glare. "But you know that already, don't you?"

Pierce didn't respond, choosing to sip from his glass as he thought. "S.U. was going to go down whether gangs got involved with it or not. In fact, it was because of gangs that it stayed opened as long as it did. Students were only attending to get better access to the Loa Dust. The school itself was in deep financial shit."

She looked away from him. He continued to watch her, noting that even though she wasn't saying a word, she was getting angrier with each sip of wine. She'd drained her glass before she spoke again. "I'm here for college because the one back home won't be open much longer."

"At least you didn't give up. What are you going to college for?"

"I want a degree in paramedic emergency."

Pierce had to admit he was impressed. "Why that field?"

The hostility gave way to regret. "I want to help people."

"That's the only reason?" Pierce doubted her.

She refilled her glass to the brim and took another swig. "No." He waved his hand, prompting her to go on. She sighed and downed her glass. She shuddered then sighed deeply. "Layla. I'm doing it for Layla."

He watched her eyes water but she kept a straight face. "Is Layla your sister...?"

"She was my best friend. My only friend."

"Was?"

A tear fell quickly down her cheek and she wiped it away. This time, Pierce refilled her glass. She thanked him. "She was there during the shootout at the university. She didn't get to finish her shift at the gift shop."

Although Pierce was aware that the Saints' actions often resulted in civilian casualties, it wasn't often that he was later confronted with their loved ones. He was left speechless. She didn't notice his sudden silence, as she was lost in her memories. Thankfully, the intercom next to the elevator buzzed. He jogged over to it and pressed the red button. "What's up?"

"You order takeout? It's here."

"Bring it up."

He quickly grabbed plates and forks from the cabinets and set them at the kitchen island. The elevator doors opened and a Saint runt stepped out, holding the white plastic sack. "Here you go, man."

"Thanks. Did you tip the delivery guy?" Pierce asked fishing for his wallet out of his pocket.

"Just two bucks."

"Thanks, Miguel." Pierce handed him a twenty dollar bill and took the bag. Pierce was sure that Miguel didn't expect to be paid back for the food, much less to be called by his name.

"N-no problem, man. Anytime." The kid's grin would have put the Kool-Aid man to shame. Without having to be told, he dismissed himself and hopped back onto the elevator. 'A little praise does go a long way...'

He put the food on the island next to the plates and turned towards his charge. "So, do you mind moving over here? I know you have to be hungry." He gestured towards the food, then began waving his hand towards her in hopes the smell would do the rest of the talking. "It's saying, 'eat meeee'."

She shook her head and a small smile graced her lips. "If it's saying anything, then it's probably best we don't eat it." She got up, picked up the glasses and bottle, and slowly joined him at the kitchen island. "I'm supposed to hate you."

Pierce shrugged. "Then hate me after you've eaten and drank your fill. Right now, we're just two people enjoying a meal. It won't do you any good to starve yourself."

She nodded. "Under different circumstances, I'd see you as a friend." Then, with a whisper, she added, "You remind me of Layla, just a little bit."

Pierce nodded his head, understanding her. "If the situation were different, I'd take you downtown to this hot ass club, buy you all the drinks you could stand, then try to convince you that fuck buddies are the best buddies you could ever have."

They both fell out laughing. She smacked his arm then reached for the wine. "That's messed up!" She took a sip before reaching for the food. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm just joking. Sort of." He filled his plate with food. "Unless you'd like that."

She shook her head. "Unless you can go back in time and undo the past, hell no."

He looked at the bottle of wine, seeing that the bottle only held a third of its contents now. "Hm, we've had a lot to drink."

"I forgot to ask, but what's the proof on this?"

"Well, it's Pedra Altra..." Pierce looked at the label closely. "Twenty percent."

"That's it?" She looked at the bottle too, as if she could see through the dark glass. "It doesn't feel like just twenty."

"I'm just starting to feel a buzz but you've had at least twice as much as I've had. Plus, wine sneaks up on you."

She nodded and ate a bit more off of her plate. "So, tell me, what the hell is wrong with your boss. Does he always act this childish?"

Pierce laughed. "No, it's just Shaundi. Shaundi used to be really laid back and he was always on her ass about it. Once we started getting more 'positive' attention, he chewed her out and told her if she wanted to stay with the Saints, she'd get her shit together. I don't know what went through her head, but the next day she showed up looking like a damned model. It was fucking insane. Like, I really don't know how to explain it. But, as time passed, with the new look came a new attitude. I miss the old Shaundi. She was drugged up all the time, but she had a sense of humor and knew how to party. Shaundi still does that, but it's like she forgot that she's not the boss, he is. And he hates being told what to do. So they fight all the time, but she's irreplaceable. Gat's death made it worse."

"So, maybe if they kiss and made up, he'd let me go?" She looked hopeful.

Pierce shrugged and drank the rest of the wine in his glass. "Maybe, maybe not."

"This is so stupid. I told my mom not to take that street. She made a wrong turn and I told her to just do a U-turn. Nooo. She wanted to just make three left turns and we'd be back where we needed to turn. I asked him to just let me out of the car. Nooo. He was just certain I'd get run over by a tank-"

"You probably would have."

"So? That's my problem. Not his. He's so damned controlling."

"He can't help it."

"I don't want to hear that shit. I want to leave."

Pierce sighed. "Maybe if you're on your best behavior, you'll get parole."

"Stupid, blue-eyed son of a bitch."

"Blue-eyed? What you got against his eyes?"

"Nothing! I just...noted that they were blue." She looked away bashfully.

A smile graced his lips. "Really?" He leaned closer to her. "So, do you like his blue eyes?"

She cut her eyes at him. "Shut up."

He grinned even wider. "So what about his hair? Do you find that sexy?"

"I'll knock you off of that stool if you don't shut the hell up."

Pierce laughed. "Admit you find him attractive and I'll leave it alone."

She was quiet for a minute, contemplating. It didn't matter what she would say; Pierce knew from her hesitance alone what was true or not. "He's okay. I mean, he isn't ugly."

"So what if he was never a Saint? What would you think of him then?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know. Maybe I could-"

The elevator let out a ding and the doors opened, effectively ending that conversation.

Chapter Text

Jamien stepped off of the elevator feeling shitty. Shaundi had almost put a bullet in Killbane's face. But, as always, almost doesn't count. Though it wasn't his fault that the Deckers' leader, Matt Miller, had been able to hack the controls to their helicopter and cause them to crash, Shaundi still had been less than happy with him.

She'll get over it.

Denitra and Pierce were seated at the kitchen island, with takeout and a bottle of wine in front of them. Sitting pretty close. Jamien bit the inside of his cheek. "Well, hello lovebirds, how was your evening?"

The look on Pierce's face was priceless. Then again, maybe the look on Jamien's face was enough to make a person shit bricks. "Hey, Boss. What happened?"

"Killbane decided to trash the Saints on TV. You didn't see it?" Jamien took slow steps towards the pair.

"Oh, what?" He looked back at Denitra for a second. "No, I didn't see it. We were talking and eating."

"Talking about what?"

"You." Pierce answered so candidly that it caught Jamien off guard for a second.

"Me?"

"Um, I have to go to the bathroom. Is there one up here?" Denitra cut in, sliding off of her seat.

"Yeah, just go up the stairs. There's stairs on both sides of the loft and you can't miss the bathroom." Pierce pointed out the stairs for her and she was gone. When Pierce turned back around, he stilled. "What did I do now?"

"Spill."

Pierce sighed, taking off his hat to run a hand over his head, then put it back on. "You're sorta responsible for the death of her best friend."

"Come again?"

"Boss, the Stilwater University shootout with Sons of Samedi?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"She said her friend worked in the gift shop. She was killed in the crossfire." Pierce shoved his hands into his pockets. "The girl's really torn up about it."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. And, to make you feel bad, she thinks you're attractive. But now you're keeping her here against her will. So things are gonna get ugly before they get good."

"Do you think I should let her go?" Jamien looked at his second.

Pierce's eyes widened. "I don't think anything. I'm just letting you know the situation. I don't know what you plan to do as far as she's concerned, but you should watch your back. I'd hate for you to end up with a fork in your eye or something."

"Well, wait. Does she know I-"

"No. If she knew, there'd be no keeping her here."

"Duly noted."

The distinct sound of a toilet flushing interrupted them. "So what happened?" Pierce spoke quickly, going over to the bar to pour Jamien a shot glass of vodka. He accepted it with a nod of thanks.

"Well, we found the bastard, took out a good number of Deckers along the way, and in the end, failed to kill the bastard. Deckers hacked our helicopter and crashed it. Killbane lives to see another day." He tossed the shot back. "So, Shaundi's royally pissed off at me now."

"We'll get another chance."

"Don't tell me that, tell her that."

"I've tried, remember? Didn't help that at the time I was getting a lap dance but still. The girl needs to live a little."

"But not a lot. It's near impossible to get her to do shit when she's stoned."

"Um, excuse me?"

Both heads turned towards Denitra, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah?" Jamien spoke up.

"Thank you for the meal and conversation..."

"Pierce." He volunteered his name with a small smile.

"Pierce. Thank you." She turned slightly to face Jamien. He noticed that she wouldn't look him in the eyes like she had before. "It's really late. Even if you decided to let me go, I wouldn't want to go. I don't know Steelport well enough. So, if you don't mind, I'm tired and I'd like to just go to sleep."

"Well, that's my cue. Goodnight, baby girl." Pierce gently touched her shoulder then made his way to the elevators.

"Wait, Pierce, you can't just-"

Pierce was already on the elevator and the doors closed, leaving them alone. "Bastard." He turned towards Denitra. "Okay, well there's a bed-"

She plopped down on the couch where she'd woken up, curling up into a fetal position. "I'll be fine right here."

Jamien frowned. "There's a bed upstairs." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up into a sitting position. For a second, he was distracted by her dress. It looked like Barney threw up on his couch. "You can sleep up there."

"There's no telling what STDs live in that mattress." She shook her head. "I'll be fine right here."

"There's a perfectly good king sized bed upstairs! Why would you sleep down here?"

She looked up at him. "There are stripper poles everywhere! You know as well as I do that freaky, sinful things go on around here. I know it's probably a snowball's chance in hell, but I'm gonna sleep on the couch and hope I don't catch anything. Please, if you do nothing else for me, take me to get tested in the morning."

Jamien was at a loss for words. He didn't know if he should laugh or be insulted. "I promise you, it doesn't get that out of hand. We have a cleaning crew who comes in and cleans the place, even sanitizes, every week."

"What days do they come in?"

"Every Thursday."

"They have another three days. I'm sleeping right here, thank you."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "You can't get a disease from a couch!"

"You can if the body fluids from the infected person isn't washed off."

"It's a black leather couch! It's constantly wiped down just so it looks good."

"So you admit fluids get on the couch?"

"No, I admit drinks and food get wasted on the couch. That's it."

"How do you know? Are you here constantly to monitor your minions to make sure they don't accidentally get jizz or vag juice on it?"

Jamien blinked. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't expect you to actually be capable of saying those kinds of things." He pinched the bridge of his nose and answered with his eyes closed. "No, I'm not here but those so-called minions know better. I'm not a neat freak but some things are just not done. Even in a brothel. I did mention the cleaning crew sanitizes, didn't I?"

"What about the bed then?"

"Seriously? Are we gonna sit here for the next hour or so until the sun comes up arguing about cleanliness?"

"If I have to, yes."

Jamien scowled at her. "You're starting to remind me of me."

Denitra, in turn, scowled. "That's an insult."

"Really?" He shrugged and swiftly stepped over to her, grabbing one arm as he stooped over, and yanked her over his shoulder. "You could at least look at the bed."

"I don't want to!"

"Why not?" He asked calmly as he made his way to the stairs.

"You're so damned controlling! Does everyone have to do whatever you say, the minute the words pop into your head? I don't like the Saints so why in the hell would I willingly sleep in a bed that's had, God knows, how many people fornicating in it?"

Jamien grunted as he adjusted her on his shoulder. "You make it sound like we're less than human beings or something."

"Have people fucked in the bed?"

"Okay, when you say people, do you mean couples like two people at once or individuals like every single person?"

"PUT ME DOWN!" She screamed and began pounding his back with her fists.

"Two! Just two people okay?"

"How do you know?" She stopped hitting him and he put her down at the top of the stairs so that she was eye to eye with him.

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "You're gonna take it the wrong way."

"Either way it goes, I'm gonna sleep on the couch so what does it matter how I take it?"

"Then why ask?" He countered, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking down at her feet.

"Because it's hard to believe just two people have ever slept in that bed."

Jamien sighed deeply and dragged a hand over his face. He was beginning to realize his mistake in being so hasty to get one up on Shaundi. "I've always had my own place to sleep. Back in Stilwater, we have more than one crib, so it's easy to claim one as my own and allow the runts to crash there for a drink or something to eat. Here... We're working on it. I hated Shaundi's loft; it's way too small for anyone to crash and the piss mat she called a bed was ridiculous. The HQ is awesome, but Pierce likes to party whenever we're not doing anything important. So, as soon as we got this place, I claimed it. Pierce wants it, but I like quiet when I sleep, sometimes also to think and get my head together."

"Okay, so you're saying this is where you sleep. So you've slept in that bed with one person?"

He nodded.

"Some random stripper or ho?"

"Candi is...Candi's more than that. She's a friend who helps me relax when I'm stressed out."

"She helps you sexually though, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sleeping in your jizz."

"The sheets get changed every time we do anything."

"It's the principal of it. No woman sleeps in a man's bed after he's had a different woman in it." Jamien started to say something. "No. Would you sleep in my bed if I told you I had sex with a different guy in it, like, last week?"

Jamien's shoulders dropped. "I don't plan on fucking you so what does it matter? I just want you to sleep where I can watch you."

"That's creepy as fuck. Who watches people while they sleep? Aren't you tired? When will you sleep?"

Jamien let out a groan of frustration. "I plan on going to sleep. I'm a light sleeper, so I'll know if you get out of the bed. That's what I mean by watching you."

"Why can't you do that with me downstairs?"

"I won't feel the bed move."

"Look, I'm sleeping downstairs, on the couch where I woke up. That's it." She tried to get around him but he put her over his shoulder again and continued on to the bed. Without much thought, he dumped her onto it.

"There. Now, we go to sleep."

"What the fuck?" She yelled at him. He smirked at her and dove onto the bed, aiming for the spot next to her. She lashed out at him with her foot, catching him in the throat which resulted in him falling onto the floor clutching his throat. Seeing that he was still alive, she got up. "Again, I'll be sleeping on the couch."

Jamien didn't get up until he heard the couch downstairs give a slight squeak from her weight. He sat up against the half wall and counted slowly to fifty. Once he was sure that if he got up, he wouldn't go shoot the girl in the face, he took his time undressing the bed. He dumped the old sheets and pillowcases into the laundry basket in the hallway closet then pulled out a brand new set. He flipped the mattress over then dressed it. He made a note that the harlequin purple silk and satin set was the best he'd ever laid hands on and he needed more sets like this one. Once the bed was made and smelled fresh, he walked downstairs, making an effort to keep his anger in check.

He expected her to be awake, just laying on the couch waiting for him to come back downstairs. He expected to argue some more, making note of the fresh bedding and overturned mattress. He expected her to still say no, even after all his effort to make her more comfortable. He expected to have to admit that maybe he was in over his head with his decision to keep her around just to prove a point to Shaundi.

He didn't expect to find her asleep, snoring.

He scratched his head and thought about his options. He could leave her there, but more than likely she'd try to make a run for it. He could take her upstairs, but Pierce had a point about forks and eyes. She could also get out of the bed and he not notice. He wanted to leave her there but realized that some part of him was still a gentleman. If he did wake up with a fork in his eye, he'd kick Pierce's ass for jinxing him in the first place. Carefully, he scooped her up in his arms. When she didn't wake up, he took that as a cue to haul ass upstairs and get her in bed. Once he had her settled in, he pulled her sandals off and pulled the covers up to her shoulder. He picked up the remote that sat on the bedside table and with one click, all the lights turned off. He carefully laid down on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and kicked off his shoes.

He pulled out his phone and pressed a button, illuminating the area with a dim light. 4:28 a.m. He let out a sigh. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd been in the same bed with a different woman, doing very different things.

He looked at Denitra as he gave a second thought to what Pierce had told him. She looked peaceful in her sleep. He remembered when he used to sleep peacefully. Then again, a coma may not be considered sleeping. Whatever, it was peaceful. She'd been through hell because of him, and not just from the past day but, from what Pierce said, the past few years. Another decision of his that resulted in tragedy. He'd told himself that those who died in the crossfire were just victims of fate, but he never was sure if that was the truth. Guilt started to set in. He touched her cheek. Maybe he could make up for one wrong out of many. Maybe, just maybe.

Chapter Text

Somewhere, his phone was going off. Ugh. Jamien pulled a pillow off of his head and groaned when the light hit his face. It was morning. He reached across the bed, remembering that someone was supposed to be there, and found it cold and empty. "Fuck." At the same time, his phone stopped ringing. He sighed and sat up, running a hand through his hair to finger comb it. He'd underestimated how tired he'd been. He could hear one of the TVs downstairs tuned to some random channel, and also the clinking of dishes. His phone began vibrating and ringing again, slowly moving towards the edge of the end table. He snatched it up, pressed the answer button, and pressed the cool plastic to his ear. "What?"

"I've been trying to reach you all morning! Where the hell have you been?" Jamien never pegged Kinzie to be a morning person anyway.

"It's called sleeping. Perhaps you haven't heard of it yet?" Jamien fell back onto the bed. "What's wrong, Kinzie?"

"Normally, I don't spend too much time listening in the Steelport police radio conversations, but I figured after yesterday I might be able to pick up something about STAG."

"Did you?"

"Yes," She hesitated before continuing, "but it wasn't what I thought it would be about. STAG's commander has issued an Amber Alert for a Denitra Fuller. He believes she's being held against her will by the Saints. The police have orders from the Chief to stop any car with Saints colors then search and question all members of the gang."

"Wow. All of that just for one girl?"

"She's important to somebody. I was able to hack into their system and pull a picture of her." Jamien's phone gave a quiet ding, an alert to a new picture message. He didn't bother to look at it. "Right now, I'm using the FBI's database to pull background information, to see who she is and what she's involved in. One question, do we have her?"

Jamien sighed. "Yes. She's here with me now."

"Why is she with you? Is she a friend of yours?"

"Not exactly. It's a long story, Kinzie, but she's gonna be with us for a bit longer."

"How much longer?"

"A week at the most."

"Well, if that's the case, then I have to keep an eye on the police and STAG as well as the Syndicate gangs."

"Unless you have nothing else to do, don't bother. We all will have to wear different clothes and drive different cars for a while. It isn't a big deal. If nothing else, it gives us an advantage over our enemies by suddenly adopting a new look. You stay focused on the Deckers."

"If you're sure..."

"I am. Trust me. This makes things more interesting."

"Well, make it more interesting. Take Denitra somewhere and give her a makeover, so she's not recognizable by anyone looking for her."

"Good idea. Thanks, Kinzie." He hung up without warning and got out of the bed, going over to the railing to look down into the kitchen. "Good morning, sunshine."

Denitra looked up at him from her bowl of cereal and rolled her eyes.

Jamien laughed and went to the bathroom, taking time to bathe, change his clothes, comb his hair, and shave. When he came downstairs, Denitra was still at the kitchen island, watching some silly game show. "How did you sleep last night? I thought you'd sleep a little longer. It's only," he looked at his watch, "10:15."

She didn't answer, instead filling her mouth with another spoonful of cinnamon sugar squares. Jamien shrugged it off and got a bowl of cereal for himself, taking the time to think about his moves and options. "So, I realize that if you're gonna be here for a week, you'll need clothes to wear."

"And I had clothes in the trunk of the car we were in." She snapped, getting up to wash her dishes.

Jamien pursed his lips and nodded. "Right. Sorry about that. Well, I'll take you shopping once you're ready."

"Let me go, and you won't have to bother."

"What about our compromise?"

"I have to have some sort of hope you'll change your mind and just let me walk out of here."

Jamien shook his head. "Not happening. You're fun to have around when Shaundi's near, like a rattle to a cat."

She frowned. "And when she's not around?"

Jamien nodded, seeing her point. "Eh, we'll figure out something."

Once he finished his bowl, he waited at the elevator for her. "Come on, Dee! Let's go!"

She came down the stairs reluctantly. "You don't get to call me that."

"Why not?" He pressed the button to call the elevator.

"Only my friends can call me Dee, and you," she pointed to him, "are nowhere close to being a friend of mine."

He put a hand over his heart, pretending to be severely wounded. "My lady, you wound me!"

"Asshole." She turned away from him and stepped into the elevator. Jamien smiled at her the entire ride down, and she glared at him in return.

"Morning Boss." Various lower-level Saints members occupied the main entertainment room of Safeword, men and women alike, receiving dances from the strippers of their choice or being lead to a private room for much, much more.

"Ew." Denitra's face scrunched up in disgust. Jamien chuckled, remembering their chat about STDs and couches. He was willing to bet she imagined all the cooties all over the place. "This is hell."

"If this is what hell is like, sign me up now." Jamien put a hand to the small of her back to coax her forward.

"Don't touch me!" She hissed and moved forward a little bit.

"Then move it." He whispered to her, scanning the room for one person.

"Jamien!"

He stilled and waited until her hands went around his waist, pulling him against her body. He knew those squishy tits anywhere. "Candi, how are you?"

She peeked around his arm, looking up at him with hazel eyes. "Lonely. I heard you came in last night, but you never called me to join you. What's up with that?"

Denitra crossed her arms over her chest upon hearing the girl's name then turned away.

Jamien turned around to face her. "I was tired and needed some sleep." He shrugged.

Candi's gaze moved from him to the girl behind him, and she pouted, pushing a blonde strand of weave out of her face. "New chick? You could have still invited me up, J. I don't mind sharing and caring with your new play toys."

Jamien rubbed his thumb on her apricot tinted cheek. "She's not a play toy. She's a guest of mine who'll be around for a few more days so I really won't be able to spend time with you."

"Oh." Candi frowned. "Okay, then. Well, you know I'll always be down here if you change your mind."

Jamien smiled brightly, satisfied when Candi's frown changed to a dazed smile. "Thanks for understanding." He turned away from her to find Denitra swatting at a stripper who was trying to get the girl to dance with her.

"Would you just get the hell away from me?" She hissed, backing up into Jamien. He moved to the side of her and grabbed her by her arm, leading her to the front of the building.

"Hey, Boss?"

He turned around to see one of the Saints members. "What?"

"I caught her coming out of the elevator earlier this morning. Pierce said to let you know."

Jamien gave her a questioning look, but Denitra just shrugged. "Thank you. I'll have a little talk with her. Can you do me a favor? Run down to the garage and bring up that all black Hammerhead to the front?"

"Yes, sir."

"Also, tell every member here that if they go out, no colors. We're still laying low from yesterday."

"Got it."

As the runt dashed off, he turned back to Denitra. "So that's why you have an attitude."

"I don't have an attitude."

He just stared at her. "You know what you need? A makeover."

"What?"

"You heard me. You need to be pampered by strangers and come out looking like one."

"Like what?"

"A stranger."

"You've lost your fucking mind." She tried to yank her arm away from him, but he had a vice grip on her. "Let me go!"

"I didn't lose my mind." He looked back at her as he pushed the door open, stepping out into the bright morning sun. "It ran away."

Jamien opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in. At first, she refused, but he threatened to toss her inside, so she changed her mind. He slid into the driver side, making the leather seat squeal. The car roared to life, and Jamien gave it a little gas, trying to obey the street signs and not commit vehicular manslaughter to avoid getting the attention of Steelport's finest. While he drove, he took note of the increased number of policemen patrolling the streets and freeway. 'They mean business when it comes to finding this girl. Just who in the hell is she?' Within thirty minutes, they were in front of Image As Designed in Loren Square.

"Why are we here?" Denitra tore her gaze from the building to look at Jamien. He only smiled and unbuckled their seat belts.

"I thought you'd like to get your nails done or something."

She frowned, leaning away from him a little. "No thanks. I don't really like using random salons."

He got out of the car and moved to her door, opening it for her. "Just this once, go in and have fun." He guided her away from the car and shut the door, then put his hand at the small of her back then guided her up the steps into the building.

"Welcome to Image As Designed, are you Bruce Wayne?" The clerk at the desk gave them a megawatt smile. Jamien rolled his eyes but nodded. Kinzie must have made them an appointment; she had a habit of setting his appointments there with random aliases. "Glad you could make it in sir!"

The leggy green-eyed blond hopped out of her chair and came around to the lobby to greet them, shaking Jamien's hand. "It said that you were bringing a friend in. Is this the young lady?"

"Yes, this is Dee."

"Don't-"

"Great! Nice to meet you, Dee. My name is Helena, and I'll be in charge of your makeover today!"

"Why are you so exci-"

"Now," Helena turned to Jamien, still holding his hand. "Did you have anything particular in mind? Like hairstyle, skin color, weight or height-"

"Nothing drastic. I still want to be able to look at her face and know it's her. Just change her hair, add makeup, and pamper her hands and feet. You know, basic girly stuff." He waved them off, taking a seat and grabbing a magazine. Jamien had thumbed through four other magazines before the girls reappeared.

"What do you think about her now?" Helena gestured to the space beside her. She frowned and reached through the door, yanking Denitra out into the lobby. Her brown hair was now as black as his except with a glossy sheen in a Cleopatra cut, complete with purple bangs. He could tell she was wearing makeup, but it wasn't heavy except for the eyeliner and mascara. Not an extreme makeover, but different from whatever pictures of her the police had.

"It works for me."

"I'm glad you like it, sir. Would you like anything done for yourself then?"

"No thank you. You've done enough." Jamien turned towards the door, not bothering to see if Denitra would follow.

"Well, thank you for choosing Image As Designed!" Helen shouted as the door shut behind them.

"How do you feel?" He asked going around to his side of the car and getting in.

She didn't answer at first, but he could tell by her body language that it wasn't a bad thing. "I don't know." She mumbled, buckling her seat belt.

"What made you choose purple?" He nodded his head towards her own. Curiosity killed the cat.

She reached up and gently fingered her hair. "It's my favorite color."

"Really? And it doesn't bother you that it's the Saints' color?"

"Of course it does. But I know why you wanted me to go in there. I'm not stupid. I heard you on the phone this morning. I heard you when you told that guy to have everyone else start dressing differently, not to wear the Saints' color. I figured if you suddenly decreased the number of marked gang bangers, the police will catch on. They'll have to look for little clues. Most women will change their clothes, but not their hair." She smiled, proud of herself. "The police will realize that just like I did and will start going after your girls. It may be subtle, but they'll notice the purple in my hair. All I need is their attention. The rest will take care of itself."

Jamien sat there, impressed by her wit. "No, really, is this what college does to people? Why aren't more people going?"

She scoffed and folded her arms angrily, turning away from him to look out the window. He started the car and quickly pulled away from the curb, heading out into traffic. He had to admit that she had a point. And with that point, she'd given him an idea. With that hairstyle, one could mistake her for a low-level Saint. With the right outfit, she could both blend in and stand out. He gunned it, heading back towards Rosen Oaks for his favorite clothing store.

"What in the hell are we doing here?" Denitra's voice held caution and fear.

"We're going shopping for your clothes." Jamien smiled innocently. She immediately narrowed her eyes and sneered at him. "What? What's wrong with this store?"

"Leather & Lace?" She looked at the shop. "It's a sex clothes store!"

"Honestly, I wasn't aware that sex required clothes."

"Okay, a foreplay clothes store."

"Hm... Okay, I'll give you that." He opened his door and got out quickly, all but dragging her inside. "But it has regular clothes too."

She gave him a skeptical look then pointed at a mannequin dressed in a Pleasure and Pain bondage suit. "Regular?"

Jamien looked at it, shrugged, and said, "Well, not everything here looks like that." He pointed to a mannequin closer to the front doors. "See?"

Denitra looked at it with interest, then shook her head and moved towards the door. "I'm not buying anything from here."

"Why not?" Jamien caught her wrist and held onto it, leading her through the store.

"I don't like showing off too much skin."

"Okay, what about this?" He pointed to a rack with Naughty Time bustiers and matching skirts. "I think you'd look very nice in this."

She tried to yank away from him. "I bet you would. I'm not putting that shit on."

"Okay, if you don't pick something, I will. And you will wear it, one way or another. So it's either this outfit or the leather catsuit over there." He paused. "In fact, I insist you pick that one. It doesn't show any skin, but it grips every curve just right."

She slapped his arm and yanked away hard, bruising her wrist a bit. She stalked over to a rack and picked out a black tube top with a matching purple and black jacket and black bondage pants with a studded black belt. "Happy?"

"What about shoes? And undies?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, muttering curses under her breath as she wandered over to the lingerie section. He tried to seem more interested in just how one would go about putting on the bondage outfit but stole glances at her as she browsed. She picked up a bra with a huge heart on one of the cups and glared at him. "Sorry. It's in my DNA."

"Whatever, fucking pervert."

His phone started going off in his pocket. "Oh, look. Someone other than Kinzie remembers me." He pulled it out and tapped the screen — a text message from his insurance fraud partner in crime. Even better, the location was right outside of the store. He glanced up at Denitra, who was now picking out panties, and quickly replied.

"Do you want me to get shoes too?"

"Grab everything you need."

"Fine." He looked up in time to see her grab studded black Rebel sandals. "Not bad."

"All the better to kick you with, my dear."

"If you haven't noticed by now, I have a thing for pain." He gave her a wicked smile. A jewelry rack caught his attention, with items marked for clearance. What did Shaundi say about angry women and jewelry? He'd been high at the time and didn't expect to need to remember her words later on. "Hell." He went with his gut and picked up a set that included purple Queen of Hearts earrings, Promise necklace, and True Love ring set. He dropped it on top of the stack of clothes in her arms. "To complete the outfit."

She looked down at the jewelry, surprised. She paid particular attention to the Promise necklace then looked up at him, skeptical as she tried to hide her smile. "That's it? To complete the outfit?"

He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yep."

"You're not trying to put the moves on me or anything, are you? 'Cause I've already told you, you're a Saint-"

The look he gave her made the words die in her throat. He liked being able to render her speechless with just the right expression. "Take it. Think of it as a half-assed apology for getting you shot at yesterday."

She closed her mouth and frowned. "Nothing can make up for that. And why would you want to?"

He shrugged again and smiled wider. "Ever do something just because?"

"I don't trust you."

"And I wouldn't trust you if you did." He walked over to the cashier, motioning for her to follow.

Chapter Text

It had gotten darker outside. The clouds looked heavy, and the smell of rain was in the air. A storm was coming their way. Denitra considered asking Jamien if she'd be allowed to stand in it for a little while if it did begin to rain, but seeing the blank expression on his face, she decided against it.

"Get in the car."

She looked over at him and tried hard to fight the frown that threatened to kill her good mood. She hated the way he talked to her, ordering her around like she was one of his minions. She hated how he didn't understand the concept of being polite, as if the words "please" and "thank you" would kill him. She hated that he was a Saint, and somehow, she'd agreed to keep the lunatic company for another six days. Oh, how cruel the world can be.

"Dee, get in the car." He turned towards her, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and tossing the butt away. He yanked open the passenger door to the Hammerhead and gestured for her to get inside.

She sighed and complied, taking care to put on her seat belt. This whole morning was fucked up. Normally, she would love to go out and go to the salon to have her hair and nails done. She would love to go shopping and buy new clothes and jewelry.

His presence alone made her hate things she normally loved.

He closed the door for her and lazily walked around to the driver's side. Instead of getting in, he leaned on the door, reaching down to press a button, locking her inside. She couldn't help but look at him like he'd gone mad; with the windows down, there was no point. "I need you to promise me something."

She huffed and sat back in her seat. It was beginning to seem this man constantly wanted something from her, including conversation. She gave him an annoyed look, prompting him to continue.

He licked his lips as he stared at her then looked over his shoulder at a group of men standing across the street. "Can you stay in the car while I go talk to a friend?" He nodded his head in the direction he'd be going, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

She smacked her lips and scratched her head, wondering why he thought he'd have to ask. If she wanted to run, she would do so, promise or not. She probably wouldn't even have to run but just scream and yell for help. Bottom line, if she wanted to get away, she would. He would be leaving her unattended for who knows how long. Unless... "Will you shoot me if I don't?"

The question seemed to surprise him. His eyebrows rose in question, and he tilted his head to the side. "Do you want me to?"

She thought about it. Was death better than being in a Saint's company?

What a dumb question.

She nodded eagerly. "If you wouldn't mind."

He seemed to be disturbed by her answer. "And they say I'm nuts. Can you just stay in the car?" He looked at her then added, "Please?"

She felt her shoulders drop in defeat. Puppy eyes on a grown man shouldn't be cute. But, damn it, if it wasn't cute on the man talking to her. It was no secret that he was attractive. She'd noticed how ladies reacted to him when he walked into the room when he spoke to them. It seemed she wasn't immune to his charms. He reminded her of a charismatic high school class clown, with his constant mischievous smiles and off-handed jokes. She wondered what she'd done that was worth being punished like this.

"What are you going to do, exactly? Does it involve drugs?"

His head dropped down. "No."

"Why do I have to stay in the car?"

"Isn't that obvious?" He held out his hands. "So you won't be noticed."

"I thought the new look was supposed to take care of that."

"As you pointed out earlier, that idea had a few kinks."

"So then what was the point of going through with it?"

"Your rainbow vomit dress was an eyesore. I don't want to be seen walking around with an attractive bag of Skittles. While it would be entertaining to do so, I don't want to spend time shooting slobby fat people or convincing any wandering mascots that, no, you aren't available nor looking for a job."

Her jaw dropped open. "Rainbow vomit?"

"Hey," he held his hands up in defense, standing up, "I call it like I see it. It looked like Barney shit sunshine on you. This way, I can look at you without needing sunglasses."

"I just found another reason to want to get away from you." She hissed darkly, looking away from him, trying not to focus on the fact that he'd called her attractive.

She heard him chuckle. "I can't help it. I have AAD. It's incurable."

She looked at him, curious. "AAD? What's that?"

"Automatic Asshole Disorder." He laughed, stepping back into the street, pointing at her. "Stay in the ca-"

So much happened at once, Denitra had trouble processing it. He was simply gone. The Churchill's horn seemed to be stuck, and its windshield was cracked, destroyed upon the impact of a human body. The elderly lady driving the car stared at ahead, as if looking for the cause of her sudden stop, then went back to fiddling with her radio. Denitra was standing in front of Jamien's car, looking down at his body as he laid on the asphalt, dazed. "Jamien!"

Upon hearing his name, he looked at her, and a slow smile crossed his face. "I'm okay." As he struggled to his feet, the Churchill took off, tires screeching as it sped away. "Old bitch."

She reached for him. "Come on, get out of the street." He reached out his hand for her. "You need to sit down so I can call an ambul-"

She froze, unable to move. A speeding car, possibly a red and black Infuego, plowed into Jamien, sending him flying up into the air. It was cartoonish, the way his body flopped around in the air, but it was hardly funny at all. It was like watching a train derail off of its tracks-something any person would have trouble looking away. He came back down quickly, only to be hit again and again by pursuing police cars. Denitra was unable to count them. The smell of burning rubber was stifling, choking her. By the time the cars had passed, he was in the middle of the intersection. A single thought broke through Denitra's mind, spearing her heart.

'Be careful what you wish for...'

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything. She was shaking, dangerously close to fainting. Her stomach churned violently, wanting to reject the only food she'd had that morning.

He didn't move.

Tears blurred her vision. Her mind and heart suddenly declared war on each other, two different reactions needing to take place. She needed to get him to safety, out of the street and call for help. She needed to scream at the injustice of it all, namely police officers hitting an (arguably) innocent person and not stop to call medical attention for him. Admittedly, she hated the Saints and maybe hated Jamien even more so, but he was still a human being. Life was precious and deserved to be treated as such. What a person did with their life was their choice, not the choice of others.

And, as if it all weren't enough, it began to rain.

He still didn't move.

"JAMIEN!" She'd never figure out when she decided to go to him. Her fingertips gently touched his cheek, trying to coax him to consciousness. "Please, please don't be dead." She put her ear to his chest and listened, straining due to the angry honking of the impatient drivers needing to drive to their destinations. "Please, please, please, Jamien."

Faintly, she heard the beat of life in his chest.

The pace of the raindrops slowly picked up. Denitra knew she shouldn't move him, but it did seem like these people wouldn't lose a wink of sleep at night if they decided to treat him like a road bump. She moved quickly, putting her hands under his arms. Once she had a good grip on him, she dragged his limp body back over to his car, laying him down on the sidewalk on the passenger side. She looked him over, aware that she was crying over someone she considered her enemy. A deep cut marred his cheek, allowing blood to flow freely from it. She gingerly touched his jaw, feeling for dislocation, but found herself wanting to kiss that same spot, as her mother would when she was younger. She wanted to kiss his pain away. She wanted him to open those startling blue eyes and smile at her, just once again.

"Jamien." She whispered, her voice breaking with more unshed tears. "Wake up."

"Is he okay?" A woman's voice snatched her back to reality. She looked over her shoulder to see the cashier from Leather & Lace looking on with concern. Denitra remembered that she was supposed to be getting the man help, not crying over him.

"His heart's still beating." She answered, and began patting his pockets down until she found his phone. The screen was cracked badly, but she was still able to dial 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"M-my...friend...just got hit by a bunch of cars-"

His wet hand grabbed hers, lowering the phone away from her face. "I thought I told you to stay in the car?" He rasped, eyes still shut.

"Jamien, you're hurt. I'm calling an ambul-"

"No, no. Not those fuckers." His hand closed around the phone, snapping what was left of it in half. "I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Jamien! Don't be an idiot. You need medical attention. You could have broken-"

"So you do care." His smile was a watered down version of his usual one.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Of course, I care! You're hurt-" She stopped abruptly, reality slapping the shit out of her. "You bastard. You planned this, didn't you?"

Jamien laughed in response, stopping to cough. "I planned to get hit by a few cars. Granted, I didn't anticipate to be stampeded by steel, but I got the reaction I was looking for out of you."

Denitra looked away from him, staring at the car door ahead of her, and contemplated violence. She realized that it wasn't worth it and stood up. She yanked open the car door, hitting him with it until his body slid out of the way enough for her to get in, and slammed the door shut.

"Oh, come on Dee. You have to admit even you're surprised by your reaction."

She was surprised, but she would never tell that asshole that.

"You're not gonna even help me into the car?" She still refused to answer him. "Fine, be that way." He grunted as he hauled himself to his feet, pausing to wave to the concerned cashier. "It's too late now. I know you care." He wagged his finger at her as he sung in singsong.

She flipped him off.

"Oh, ho! Now, now. Don't go offering what you aren't prepared to give, missy." He teased, then paused, eyeing her. "Or are you?" He hobbled around to the driver's side and got in. "If you're willing to give me medical attention of that kind, I'd gladly take it." He turned the car on and put it in gear. "For being such a good sport, I'll take you to Planet Saints for more clothes, things you wouldn't object to wearing."

Still nothing.

"You know, you're sexy when you're mad."

She gave him a brief glare before turning her head away. Maybe he really did need to go to the hospital. Apparently, he'd lost what little mind he had left and couldn't tell just how close to death he was.

Chapter Text

It was midnight. Officially Tuesday. Jamien sat at the bar, a small glass of vodka in one hand and a lit blunt in the other. Times like this he missed Johnny the most, having someone to sit and laugh with. Pierce was okay but busy with other things. Shaundi was too close to having her throat slit, busy with her stupid show or not.

'The Saints's name used to mean more than body spray and some ass-tasting energy drink...'

Jamien tossed his drink back and hissed at the burn. Johnny was right. No wonder some ass blown Belgian thought the Saints would just roll over and take whatever he gave them. They'd sold out. The real question was, could they get it back?

The elevator let out a ding before the door slid open, and Pierce stepped out. "Those little lightning motherfuckers blew up my Sovereign!"

"What?" Jamien drew smoke from his blunt then put it down.

"The Deckers! I got a call saying that the Deckers were trying to rob the Planet Saints over in Stanfield. I take my happy ass over there to help out. We went through twelve waves of those bitches. TWELVE! A damned specialist blew up my Sovereign!" Pierce ranted, pacing back and forth.

"You can get another one, Pierce."

Pierce stopped. "That's not the fucking point, man! We just gunned down about a hundred of them! It's fucking ridiculous! We need to make these little kids sit they asses down! Go play video games or something!"

Jamien refilled his glass and nodded, offering his herbal medicine to Pierce. "This will calm you down so we can think of something."

Pierce reluctantly sat down next to Jamien. "I swear if I get my hands on one of those roller skating bitches, her face will be as blue as her damned clothes."

"Pierce. Drink. Smoke. Make with the calming down." Jamien took out his phone and dialed Kinzie's number. "The Deckers are a problem, Kinzie."

"I've been working on that."

"And? What have you come up with?" Pierce handed him the blunt, and he accepted it, took a puff, then gave it back.

"Well, I guess you were bound to be here someday."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come to my place. I'll show you what you're gonna need."

Jamien looked at his phone. He couldn't have heard her right. "Kinzie just invited us to her hideout."

Pierce's eyes widened. "No. Fucking. Way."

Jamien nodded. "Yeah. Fucking insane." He slid off of his bar stool and walked over to the intercom. "Two of you get your asses up here, now."

Pierce looked at Jamien. "You leaving Dee here?"

Jamien took one long drag on his blunt before putting it out and nodded. "I doubt Kinzie would welcome anyone but us. Besides, she's joined the army of women who are pissed off at me for some reason or another right now."

"What did you do to her?"

"I had an insurance fraud opportunity and didn't explain it to her beforehand. Apparently, it isn't funny to pretend like you're dying after being hit by seven cars. People tend to think you really are dying." He shrugged. "Shit like that."

Pierce shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, but ended up shaking his head some more. "She isn't used to our life, man. The shit we go through would give normal people a heart attack."

Jamien smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about. I consider myself normal."

Pierce looked at him as if he had grown another head. "That shit isn't funny, man. Don't joke like that. You know you're not normal, right?"

Jamien only smiled and walked back over to the bar to put down his blunt. "Hey, Dee?"

No answer. It was getting old.

"I'm going out. Two guys will be here in a minute to watch you until I get back."

Still no answer. Jamien knew Denitra was in the tub. He wondered if she had the guts to drown herself in it. He thought about going up to check on her but figured she'd probably attack him and accuse him of trying to see her naked. Ugh, women. Fuck it.

The runts stepped off of the elevator, not sure what to expect.

"You're on babysitting duty. She's upstairs taking a bath, so if you have to go, use the ones downstairs. Don't bother her unless she tries to get on an elevator. She's not to leave for any reason."

"What if there's a fire?" One of them asked — a smart ass.

"Then you burn the fuck down with her and the building. When I get back here, I better find at least one of your asses up here with her, crispy critter or not." Jamien passed them and got on the elevator with Pierce.

When the doors closed, Pierce looked at him. "You really expect them to die for her?"

"Pierce, if those fuckers are dumb enough to stay in this penthouse when it's on fire, then neither of them should be a Saint. I mean, come on, would you want someone who thinks like that guarding your back in a gunfight?" Jamien shook his head. "Hell, if nothing else, I know Denitra would take them out if it really came down to it."

"How do you know?"

"She goes to college. If they teach you how to argue, then they have to teach self-preservation. That place just gives out common sense. No wonder they push kids to go to college these days."

"Then why don't you go?"

Jamien gave Pierce a meaningful look then broke out into a smile. Both men spoke at the same time.

"Nah."

The warehouse sat hidden amongst other abandoned ones in Salander, along the coast of the city. Inside, it was dark except for the dim glow where Kinzie had to be. "You can hit the light."

Jamien eagerly found the light switch, illuminating the area with light. Kinzie sat in a chair, cross-legged with her trusty laptop in her lap. Jamien wondered how often she replaced the thing. He also wondered something else that always came to mind whenever he saw a redhead; did the carpet match the drapes? Pierce wandered about picking up random things. "It's...homey." Jamien managed to say.

"I don't see a bed." Pierce pointed out, eyeing a newspaper clipping.

"Sleep is forbidden," Kinzie stated simply, never taking her eyes off of the computer screen.

"What the fuck did the Deckers do to the chopper?" Jamien asked, realizing that this was the second time he'd talked to Kinzie that day, yet the first time he'd asked about what happened last night.

"Matt must have hacked into its flight computer and fried it with an EMP."

Pierce picked up a mannequin head covered with a bondage mask.

"You can do that?" Jamien was surprised.

"You can do a lot worse. If Matt gets the Decker Use-Net plugged into the central power grid it's - trust me, it's bad."

Pierce shoved the mannequin in Jamien's face. Jamien jumped in surprised then frowned. Pierce threw the head down, moving onto other interesting things Kinzie had collected.

"So how do we nail the Deckers?" Jamien inquired, doing his best to ignore Pierce, who'd just found the Penetrator, a huge (no, seriously HUGE) purple bat in the form of a silicone dildo, complete with fleshy balls and circumcised tip. Right as Kinzie spoke, he felt the cold, firm head of the offending object touch his cheek, causing him to jump and look at Pierce menacingly, then gesture to Kinzie, telling him to pay attention.

"If I could worm into their mainframe, I'd do all sorts of naughty things. But I don't have the gear for that." She turned towards them suddenly, turning her computer around for them to see the monitor. They both turned to her as if they'd been paying attention the entire time. Pierce attempted to hide the huge bat behind his back, but the first thirteen inches of it hung over his head, the tip dangling downward to Jamien's head. Both of their faces were a picture of total innocence.

"That's one of the most powerful learning computers in North America... And STAG's got one."

Jamien leaned in to get a better look at what he'd be looking for when another window appeared over the 3D image. A young kid smiled back at him, with jet black hair, eyeliner, and lipstick. "Thanks for the tip, Agent Kensington."

Kinzie turned her computer back around. "Argh, damn it!"

Jamien frowned. "Wait, that punk is Matt?"

The computer giggled. "'That punk kid' is the cyber god who just crashed your helicopter. Cheers!"

The window disappeared, and Kinzie began typing on her computer. "His people are probably halfway to the computer by now." She sounded irritated already and the night wasn't even over. She looked up at them. "Go!"

Without another word, both men turned around and headed back towards Jamien's car. Once Jamien had made it back to the main road, he called Kinzie. "Kinzie, where's the computer being held?"

A black and neon blue Solar power-slid around the corner and gunned it, aiming to hit them head-on. It briefly occurred to Jamien that the Deckers were aware of Kinzie's location. He made a mental note to bring that up to her later. Pierce leaned out of his window and aimed his TEK Z-10 at the oncoming car's windshield before turning the bullet assault on the car's engine as Jamien swerved around it, causing the engine to blow.

"At the STAG PR Center. Hurry." Kinzie answered promptly.

Pierce slid back into his seat and looked over at Jamien. "So you and Shaundi were beaten by a little punk like Miller?" He shook his head.

"Beaten?" Jamien looked at Pierce for a second, offended. "He crashed our fucking helicopter."

"That sounds like you lost to me."

"Put me in a room with Miller, and we'll see who loses." Jamien retorted bitterly, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter and giving the car more gas. Jamien's phone rang again.

"Aren't you there yet?"

"Calm down. We'll get there." Jamien snapped.

"I don't want that little bastard beating me again."

"Don't worry. He won't." Jamien hung up on her and resisted the urge to throw his phone out the window. What was with the fugly attitudes from all of the women in his life?

"Kinzie's a little high strung, don't you think?"

"She barely goes out and stares at that screen most of the time. I'm surprised she's still sane."

Pierce gave his leader a doubtful look. "Are you sure she still is?"

Jamien couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of the huge bat-dildo she hadn't bothered to hide from them. He exited off the freeway, made the turn towards the PR Center, greeted by the sound and smell of gunfire that tainted the air.

"Looks like the Deckers started the party." Pierce seemed upset by it.

"Well, guess we're crashing then." Jamien shrugged, silently excited by the idea that the Deckers had opened fire already. It just meant more STAG officers would come running. It promised a longer target practice session. Live targets and ammunition equaled a good day in his book.

Pierce reached into the backseat and pulled out two D4TH Blossoms and made sure they were ready to go. "We better get in there before they take that thing."

Jamien only nodded as he drove the car directly towards the swarm of Deckers that stood outside of the front of the building, firing at the STAG officers trying to defend it. "On three, Pierce."

"What?"

"THREE!" Jamien grabbed his gun from Pierce and opened his door, throwing himself out. He hit the hard pavement and rolled, looking up in time to see that Pierce had made it out as well. The car plowed through those dumb enough to watch the car speed towards them, killing only a few of them but injuring enough to satisfy Jamien. Immediately, bullets aimed in their direction. A STAG sniper stood on top of the building and took his time to aim. While Pierce shot at the Deckers coming at them, Jamien gave his undivided attention to the moron on top of the building. One squeeze of the trigger ended the officer's life. Nearly shoulder to shoulder, the pair made their way to the front doors as they returned their enemy's fire.

"Damn, there's even more in here." Pierce had to shout over the sound of the echoing gunshots. The Deckers and STAG were spread out in the PR Center's lobby. Everyone engaged in their own heated gunfights. It was noticeably cooler than outside. In his moment of distraction, a bullet flew past his ear, clearly aimed at his face.

Jamien quickly returned the favor, only making sure to hit his mark. "You're welcome, asshole."

"STAG sure has a lot of tech in here," Pierce noted as his gun gave short, rapid bursts of gunfire, killing those who'd noticed they'd come in.

Jamien kicked a Decker in the nuts before shooting the young adult in the throat, nearly severing his head. "This shit all looks the same to me, where's the computer..."

"Don't leave any of those pathetic peons standing!" A familiar voice filled the lobby. For a second, Jamien thought he had gone insane until he realized that Matt somehow tapped into the building's PA system, enabling him to use it. Did college teach you that, too? Or was that something he'd learned somewhere else?

"Go home, Matt, and take your little Deckers with you." Kinzie's voice followed, making her sound even younger than she usually did. It was like listening to two teenagers on the phone.

"Well, someone's a sore loser, Agent Kensington."

"You haven't won yet."

Jamien made it to the stairs leading to the upper part of the lobby with Pierce at his back, skillfully gunning down any that Jamien had missed.

"If you're referring to your two pawns, they're too late."

"We'll see about that." Kinzie sneered.

"I love it when people talk about me like I'm not there," Pierce muttered.

"Really?" Jamien had to look back at the man, surprised. "I thought you didn't mind since I do it all the time and you don't say anything." Pierce's answering glare was full of disappointment.

"What's to see, except the epic failure that is the Saints?" Matt asked, the taunting in his voice becoming more than annoying.

"A bit overconfident?" Kinzie sounded smug, but they both knew she was worried they wouldn't pull it off and get the computer.

"Ugh, I see what you mean." Jamien ascended the stairs quickly, but with extreme caution. It'd be just his luck someone would be watching the stairs, aiming for the head of anyone who dared to come up.

"Thank you!"

"I am the one who got here first. I am the one leaving with the computer. I-"

"Yak, yak, yak. Get a job."

Jamien peered over the top step, immediately noticing that there were STAGs and Deckers up there as well. Pierce got on the side of him, and together they shot the ankles of those standing closest to them. Jamien grabbed a STAG officer, and Pierce caught a Decker, using them as body shields as they unleashed metal hail on their enemy. It wasn't long before the top floor was cleared as well and the lobby became quiet.

"The Deckers are loading my computer in the garage. Get. Moving." Kinzie's voice filled Jamien's earpiece.

"How do you know that?" Jamien turned quickly and headed for the stairs, to go to the elevator that was on the main floor.

"I hacked the security feed." She answered simply as if it were a normal thing to do.

"I feel like some character in a video game." Pierce followed Jamien, frowning. "I don't like the idea of Kinzie controlling me."

"Don't lie. You have a thing for collecting blow-up dolls, and she likes freakishly large dildos. You two would make a fantastic couple."

"...Shut up."

The pair dashed to the elevator and got in, and Pierce hit the button for the garage. They took the few seconds of peace to reload their guns, even checking their pistols just in case they needed those as well. When the doors opened, chaos resumed. It was the same scene as the lobby, except underneath the building, in a dim, poorly lit garage. Jamien noted it was a good thing Pierce had a thing for white suits or else he'd run the risk of accidentally shooting him. He tapped the side of his earpiece. "Kinzie, the truck's moving out, and we have company here."

"I called in reinforcements for you guys."

Pierce shot at the Deckers that were in front of him, trying to hide behind a pillar and N-Forcer. "Fuck reinforcements, we got a tank!" He pointed to the STAG marked tank, a Crusader, conveniently parked so that one could jump in, give it gas, and go. Jamien nodded his approval.

"Oh no, don't you dare! I don't want that thing anywhere near my computer!"

Jamien rolled his eyes and kept shooting. "Okay, okay. We won't use the tank."

"Really?" Pierce looked at Jamien, incredulously.

Jamien tapped his earpiece, severing their connection with Kinzie on the headset walkie-talkies. "Fuck no, we're getting our tank on." He smiled and dashed towards the tank. He lept up and planted his feet in the back of a Decker, causing the man to fall forward violently, and skid across the pavement as if he were no more than a skateboard. Jamien immediately went to man the controls of the tank, loving the idea of driving the enormous killing machine. Pierce opted for the gun on top. With one press of a button, the plasma cannon went off, killing all the Deckers that Pierce had aimed at.

Jamien let out a joyful whoop. "MURDER TIME, FUN TIME!"

Pierce aimed the cannon at the gate that closed off the garage and pressed the trigger again, destroying it. Jamien hit the gas, and the tank began to roll, much faster than he was used to with regular tanks. Pierce kept the cannon firing as they reached the street level and turned to give chase to the fleeing semi-truck that had the computer. Familiar Harlequin purple vehicles approached them. Ah, the reinforcements.

"Okay, following the truck on the street cams and... Oh God! What the hell are you doing?"

"Going after the truck." Pierce answered simply, firing a few rounds at oncoming Decker cars.

"I said DON'T use the tank!"

"Relax, we won't use the cannon," Jamien said soothingly as Pierce fired the cannon at a few more Decker cars.

Pierce smiled and began imitating static on a cell phone with bad reception. "Kinzie, you're breaking up..."

"No, I'm not. You're just using your mouth to pretend like you are!"

Jamien stifled a chuckled and played along, pretending he couldn't hear Kinzie very well. "W-what's that Kinzie?"

"Ugh. Use the machine gun then, NOT the cannon." The connection disconnected.

"You think she's mad?"

Pierce used extra caution when aiming at the tires of the truck, using the machine gun to blow them out. It wasn't nearly as fun as using the plasma cannon or even the Repeating Laser, but Jamien forced himself to remember that the overall goal was to bring the computer back in one undamaged piece. He made a mental note to take the tank out for a spin once this was over. The truck came to a crawl, so Jamien parked the tank in front of it. Pierce used his SMG to kill the driver then climbed down from his perch. Jamien poked his head out once Pierce hit the ground.

"I can drive the truck back if you want to follow in the tank."

Jamien looked at the bed of the truck and its tires. "Ugh. It doesn't look like the truck will keep a hold on the computer." His shoulders slumped with disappointment, catching a whiff of rain in the air. Another storm was coming. "Fuck. We'll have to leave the tank here so I can ride with the computer." He dropped back down inside and backed the tank up so the truck would be able to pass then got out. "If nothing else, I know where to get a sweet ass tank."

"Damn right." Pierce smiled, knowing he'd be back for one, too.

The ride back to Kinzie's hideout was surprisingly uneventful. Other than the occasional Decker car that would come from seemingly nowhere to shoot at Jamien, who would shoot the driver to stop the car altogether, nothing happened. He expected a roadblock of some sort but was slightly disappointed. When they reached Kinzie's, it was raining. They found her sitting outside, cross-legged, with her laptop in her lap, typing away. Pierce honked the horn, and she looked up. He parked in front of her and Jamien jumped off the trailer with a smile.

"Ugh." She slid underneath the railing of the stairs she sat on and walked over to the computer. Jamien suddenly wondered if the damned thing was waterproof. "Aw man."

"So you're set right?"

"Almost, I need a chair."

"I'll give you fifty bucks, pick out a nice one." Jamien joked, yet slightly serious. If she only needed a damn chair, he'd buy her whatever the fuck she picked out.

"Funny." She looked at him. "I'll explain it all once this thing's set up."

"Well, Oleg's on his way over now. He said he wasn't far from here."

"Great. At least someone will understand what the hell I'm talking about." Kinzie looked over the machine, checking it for any damage. Jamien and Pierce decided to wait for Oleg to show up and used the moment for a quick smoke break. Right when they were about to put out their cigarettes, a purple Criminal came around the corner, with a big burly figure riding in its bed.

"Well, he's here. Can we go?" Pierce started towards the approaching vehicle and Jamien followed. It was no secret that, while Pierce had no problem playing chest with the man, Oleg made Pierce uneasy. Jamien had yet to figure out if it was because he'd met the Russian when he was naked or if he resembled the brutes cloned from him too closely. Or maybe it was because the brutes they fought on a regular basis had to get their brutality from somewhere, and it was possible that Oleg to snap at any moment and go on a killing spree. As it was, it took about a clip to kill a regular brute.

Oleg and the two Saints he rode with got out of the car. Oleg nodded his head in their direction and kept going towards Kinzie. Pierce got in the driver's seat leaving the passenger seat for Jamien. Jamien noted the new car smell and lack of leather his butt cheeks were accustomed to. This SUV had black suede seats. Suede. It felt nice, especially in comparison to how leather held heat when it rained.

It wasn't until they were back on the road, on their way to Safeword, when Pierce spoke. "So... It's been over forty-eight hours since Denitra came along. Having second thoughts yet?"

Jamien laughed and shook his head, as he knew Pierce was bound to ask him at some point. Once he settled down, he thought about it. "I don't want her to think she's won."

"This isn't really a game, man. It doesn't matter one way or another. She's just a girl."

"I know that. I was talking about Shaundi. I don't want her to think she can just tell me what to do whenever she feels like it."

"I understand that, Boss. You can drive that point home a thousand different ways."

"I don't like being told what to do." Jamien gave Pierce a warning glare.

"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm simply advising you. It's my job. If Johnny were here, what would he think? What would he say?" Pierce looked over at him briefly then back at the road. "I'm sure you probably wouldn't like it, but you'd listen to him. She's an outsider, man. She's not used to this shit. She's all sunshine, peace, and love. We're shadows, war, and hate. Complete fucking opposites. It's like having a KKK member hanging around a party with minorities. You're asking for trouble."

"Pierce." Jamien looked at him, getting annoyed.

Pierce huffed and shook his head. "You don't need her around."

"I know that. She's like decoration to me. There but unnecessary."

"That should tell you that she shouldn't be around us."

Jamien sighed and slumped down in his seat, pouting. "I don't know how to explain it. Besides wanting to piss Shaundi off and teach her a lesson, I like... Denitra's different. Like you said. It's kinda like your love for luxury sports cars. Even though you prefer this one type of car, you still like the complete opposite of it, tanks."

"How in the hell is that the complete oppo-"

"You get what the fuck I'm saying. Shut up."

"Okay." Pierce nodded. "I kinda get it. So you want to pack a daisy with your guns from time to time." He shrugged.

"What the fuck?"

"I mean, in the midst of all this violence, you want a bit of peace around." He chuckled. "You sound like Johnny talking about Aisha."

Jamien stilled, unable to look away from Pierce. "What?"

"They were complete opposites too, remember? Hell, so much so that they could barely stay together, but also barely stay apart. The shit they had was crazy, but it worked for them."

Jamien looked out his window and cleared his throat. "They had love."

Pierce started to say something but stopped himself, nodding instead. "Yeah, they did."

The ride up to the loft was a quiet one since Pierce opted to go to the Broken Shillelagh for a drink. Jamien leaned his head back against the plush covered wall and groaned. Although he didn't have any bullets to dig out of his body this time, his head was pounding. It seemed he only got thinking cramps after talking to Pierce. It was now after three in the morning, and the only thing he could think of was collapsing on the bed. Hopefully, Denitra was still in her quiet mood.

He should be so lucky.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he was greeted by her melodic voice, shouting at the top of her lungs. He at first thought she was laying into one of the runts he left to watch her.

"There's no need to get so upset, baby. It's a compliment. You should put that body to good use, one way or another."

Zimos and his auto-tune had found her. Oh, God.

"That's not a fucking compliment!" Denitra took a step towards him. Jamien was surprised to see her babysitters in between the two, trying to separate them.

Zimos shrugged and adjusted his zebra print tie. "Coming from me, it's a compliment, trust me. If you aren't willing to spread your nookie love, then at least consider being a stripper. With a body like that," he tilted his head to the side slightly, appraising her body, "you could make a lot of money. But that attitude of yours will have to go."

"I would never." Denitra folded her arms across her chest angrily. Jamien quietly moved over towards them, stopping at the pool table.

"Oh, don't get too high and mighty, baby. It's very rare for a female college student not to pick up a night job shaking her ass for dollars." He casually stepped around the Saint that stood in front of him. "You talk all this cute shit now, but once reality sets in and you need the money, you'll think back on what I'm saying." He reached over and ran a finger down her cheek. "And my offer will still be on the table, but you'll have to apologize for all this back talk with a little time on your back."

Jamien moved quickly. He caught her wrist, stopping her fist from connecting with the man's jaw. He noted that she didn't really have any power behind it, but he admired her for standing up for herself.

Zimos stared at Denitra with an unreadable look in his eyes but spoke to Jamien. "I didn't see you come in."

Jamien nodded his head and pulled Denitra back towards him, to his side. "I can see why. Let's call it a night, guys. I'm tired." Jamien turned away, forcing Denitra to follow him.

"Night, Boss." One of the runts called out before making his way to the elevator with his partner.

"This early? I brought some girls up for you, thought you'd like to party a little bit. Maybe even spend some time with Candi." Zimos called out as Jamien reached the stairs.

"No, thank you." Jamien shook his head. "It's been a long day and an even longer night. I've already explained to her that I won't see her for a while."

"In exchange for this one?"

Jamien's shoulders dropped, and he sighed loudly. He was tired of getting shit over Denitra. It seemed like everyone was developing their opinions over his decision and didn't like it. And like Shaundi, they all were forgetting just who the fuck he was and what he would do should he get pushed too fucking close to the edge of his sanity. He turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder at the man. "I think I said...to call it a night, Zimos." Rage began to simmer, just below the surface.

It took a minute for Zimos to respond, putting his hands up in surrender. "If you insist, man. The real party will be downstairs, should you change your mind."

"I won't," Jamien muttered, stomping up the stairs.

"Jamien." Denitra's hushed voice stopped him.

"What." He snapped, looking back at her. Her eyes were wide with fear. She was trying to free her wrist from his grip.

"Y-you're hurting me. Please let go." She whispered. She was afraid of him. He blinked a few times, trying to understand what he'd done to scare her, then dropped her wrist. She rubbed it tenderly, and he saw that her caramel skin had turned an angry red.

"I-I'm sorry." He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back, out of his reach. "I'm sorry."

She looked at his hand, reaching for her, skeptically before putting her hand in his. He led her up the rest of the stairs, to the bathroom where the light was the best. Her wrist was swollen. He knew in just a few hours that a bruise would appear where his fingers had been. "I need to put ice on it." She whispered.

He nodded, feeling guilty. "I can go get it."

"No, I'll do it." She stopped him. "You said you were tired."

"I don't want you to get tempted to leave."

"You heard that rap star reject. He's downstairs waiting on you to join him. He'll be watching the elevator. If I go down there, I'll end up breaking one of the Ten Commandments. It would be just my luck that I end up in hell with his ass." She shook her head then bit her lip. "I don't know why, but I feel like I should thank you."

"I didn't do much but tell him to go away."

She shrugged and turned away. "I know. But you didn't have to do that. I didn't expect you to. So, thank you, for saying something."

He watched her walk away and leaned against the wall. Pierce's words came back to him. He wondered what exactly Johnny would have said about it all.

Chapter Text

Jamien was sure he hadn't been asleep for more than an hour when he realized that someone was tapping him, insistently. After a minute or so, he thought it was Denitra begging to be thrown out, because her scent, hair spray and baby lotion, was strong. "Go away."

"I hate to interrupt your little cuddle session, Boss, but you have a phone call from the Mayor of Stilwater. He'd like to speak with you, and it sounds pretty fucking urgent."

The sound of Shaundi's irritated voice was like coffee. "Who?"

"The Mayor of Stilwater."

Jamien opened his eyes reluctantly and was greeted by Denitra's black hair, inches from his nose. He looked down and realized that she was under his arm, holding onto it. Wait, what? He sat up on his other arm to get a better look. Yes, she was under the covers, under his arm, holding onto it. He was on top of the covers, near the edge of the bed. When the fuck did that happen?

"Yeah, uh, sure." He ran a hand down his face. "Gimme a minute, and I'll be downstairs."

"Sure thing, Boss." Shaundi turned and walked away.

Jamien took his time extracting himself from Denitra, mindful of what she was like fully rested and had no desire to know what cranky Denitra was like. He'd had enough of bitchy attitudes and still had to deal with the one downstairs. He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to get rid of any bed head he had then shuffled to the bathroom. Once he was presentable enough, he made his way downstairs to find Shaundi at the kitchen island, a small glass in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.

Her phone sat on the cold marble counter. Jamien didn't say a word to Shaundi as he picked up the phone. "Who is this?"

"Mayor of Stilwater, Wesley Fuller. Am I speaking to the Leader of the Saints?"

"The one and only. So, Mr. Stilwater, what can I do for you?"

"For starters, you could release my daughter."

'Holy shit...' "What?"

"You've kidnapped my daughter. Let her go."

"How do you know I have her?"

"Traffic cameras. Store cameras. Eye witness accounts."

"Well, since you believe I kidnapped her, let's do a little exchanging."

"You won't get a damned thing from me."

"Not from you specifically, but something yes."

"What makes you think I won't have the police storm the building and just take her?"

"What makes you think that by the time you got to her, she'd still be alive?"

A long, tense silence followed before Mayor Fuller spoke. "There wouldn't be a place you could hide your sorry ass."

"You honestly think, after all I've done, that I'd run? Your threats are empty. You want her alive? She's alive, for now. Keep fucking with me, and she won't be for much longer. You can cooperate, or get the fuck off the phone."

"What do you want?" The Mayor whispered, defeated.

"I heard that something called the Syndicate, a super gang, is branching out in Stilwater. They've bought property there. As mayor, you should be able to look at property sales, major ones, and find a trend. I need a list of those properties."

"To do what with?"

"Don't worry about it. The Syndicate is being taken care of here in Steelport, and I plan to get rid of what's left of them in Stilwater. To start, I'll need that list."

Mayor Fuller hesitated. "And once you have the list?"

"I'll let Denitra go free. She should be in school on Monday, if you work fast enough."

"It will take time to get that list without drawing attention."

"As long as the Syndicate gangs that are there in Stilwater don't catch on to what you're doing. I'm sure they'll be watching you."

"What if I can't get the list before next Monday before Denitra needs to go to school?"

"Hey, me and Denitra have all the time in the world. Take as much as you need." He hung up the phone and placed it on the counter next to Shaundi.

"I'm glad to see you care about something other than ass and pissing me off. I've been so busy thinking about the Syndicate here in Steelport that I didn't think of those who've made it to Stilwater." Shaundi sipped on her drink.

"That's why I'm the Boss." Jamien smiled. Shaundi turned away.

"So now you have the perfect excuse to keep her around, for extortion."

Jamien nodded as he turned towards the stairs, realizing that it was only seven in the morning. "I'm going back to bed."

"Oh, yeah. I'm so sorry your cuddle time was interrupted."

Jamien didn't stop. "Shaundi, jealousy doesn't suit you."

"I'm not jealous, you jackass."

"I know. But you are a bitch. I miss your old attitude. Just a little though."

Chapter Text

It had been an hour since she woke up, entangled in the man's arms. Her hands shook as she pressed the omelet down with the spatula in the skillet. Her cheeks were warm, and it wasn't because of the open heat source in front of her.

She was mortified and embarrassed beyond words.

She'd thought that her hatred for the Saints would be enough to overcome her childhood habit. It was why she'd fought so hard to sleep anywhere but next to him since she'd got there. At home, her big, brown teddy bear stayed on her bed and removed on laundry days. Without it, she couldn't sleep. She would toss and turn, unless she found something to hold on to.

Maybe it was a result of her being an only child. Maybe it was because she hated being alone. She couldn't figure out the cause, but she hoped like hell that the sleeping bastard upstairs hadn't noticed she'd practically cuddled him to death. He'd never let her live it down.

"Something smells good."

She jumped, nearly burning herself on the skillet, and turned to find Jamien taking a seat at the kitchen island. The grin on his face chilled her to the bone.

"I got hungry." She turned away from him quickly, unable to look him in the eyes. Those stupid bright yet deep blue eyes that laughed at her.

"Not gonna share?" He sounded hopeful.

"Only if I don't finish my food." She snapped. "Don't count on it."

"You sound angry. Another escape attempt gone wrong?"

"No."

"Mmhm." He paused before asking, "How did you sleep last night?"

'Asshole...' "The same as the night before." She refused to bring it up for him.

He made a disapproving noise. "I think you slept better. It's noon, isn't it? You slept longer."

"I guess I did."

"How's your wrist?"

She looked down at it. Despite their attempts to ice it, it was still swollen, badly bruised, and even more tender than she thought it'd be. "About as good as it should be."

"I'm sorry about that." She turned her head to look at him. He'd ducked his head, looking down at his clasped hands.

"You've apologized for it enough already. Get over it."

"I know, but it doesn't feel like you've forgiven me. You won't even look at me. It feels like you're really pissed about it, regardless of what comes out of your mouth."

"I promise you, if I'm mad at you about anything, that damn sure isn't it."

He looked up, watching her as she moved her food to a plate and sat down next to him. Her wrist was too sore to carry her plate over to the chairs by the windows, so she had to sit next to him. "Wait, what are you mad about, then?"

"Being kidnapped? Being forced to stay in a brothel? Being offered a fucking job by maturing pimp with a tracheostomy whose artificial larynx just happens to be auto-tuned?" She tapped her chin with her finger. "Gee, I don't really know which one pisses me off the most so why don't you pick?"

For a second, Jamien didn't seem to know what to say to her. He just stared at her as she ate. "So, you're not pissed that you cuddled me last night?"

She choked on her food. "You were asleep when I woke up. How do you know-"

"Shaundi came over. A really interesting person wanted to speak with me." He leaned towards her. "Three guesses who it was, and the first two don't count."

The look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. Behind the mischievous twinkle was malice. Suddenly, she understood her grandmother's fables about the wolf in sheep's clothing. She swallowed hard and attempted to speak normally. "I really suck at guessing."

"The Mayor...of Stilwater." His eyes paralyzed her with fear. "Now, when she told me that, I was surprised. I mean, what the fuck would he want with little ole me? It's not like I'm currently raising hell there. Sure there are Saints still there, but for the most part, we're all concentrating on this little problem we have here in Steelport. So, I asked him just that, what did he want? Do you know what he said?"

It was like sitting in a cage with a starving lion staring at her. She couldn't bring herself to nod her head.

"He wanted..." He leaned even closer until she couldn't see those piercing eyes, and his lips grazed her ear. "...his daughter."

She held her breath. It felt he'd just dumped ice on her.

He continued, now talking in a whisper as if he didn't want anyone to overhear him. "Now I'm very curious as to why you didn't make this little yet important fact known the minute you woke up here. Or at any moment before he had a chance to contact me. I want to know, Denitra, why you would keep something like that to yourself."

Her throat suddenly became dry. "It never crossed my mind. To you, he's someone of importance. To me, he's just Daddy. The only thing I've ever thought of was getting out of here to get back to Mama and Daddy."

He nodded slightly and moved back to his natural spot in the chair. "I'll take that. I forgive you for that little slip of information. In the future, I'd like to know things in advance. I don't like being blindsided, especially by someone who's able to call the National fucking Guard just to make me a blood stain on the pavement."

She stared down at her plate, appetite long gone. "If you had just let me go when I asked, you wouldn't have been put in that position."

He chuckled briefly and nodded. "The more you want to get away from me, the more I want to keep you near me. Like a little fly trapped in glue, the more you struggle, the worse you make your situation."

"What situation? Pierce came up with some stupid compromise-"

"Which reminds me, I need to go get him something nice. I think this is the best impulsive thing we've ever done."

"What?"

"Well, since your father is the oh-so-special man he is, I have him running errands for me."

It was like a punch to the stomach, even forcing air from her lungs. "Y-you're-"

"Using you to get what I need. He wants you to come back home, and I need a few things that he can easily get. In the end, everyone's happy."

"You bastard."

He shrugged. "Sticks and stones may break your bones, but a bullet will end it all." He looked at her plate. "May I?"

She slid it over without saying a word.

He immediately began to eat. "He wants me to let you go before classes start. So I told him to bring me what I need before then. Look at it this way. If he pulls through, then it will be like he was never involved, and come midnight on Monday you're free to go. If not, well, we'll get more time to cuddle until he does."

"What do you need him to get?"

"Just a list of property bought by a certain group of people. We've got competition, and I don't like them at all." He stopped to look at her. "Your cooking is awesome."

"Why can't you get the list?"

"If I have my people snoop around, they'll wise up to what we're doing and make the fight a bit more complicated. If he does it, they won't catch on as quickly."

"I hate you."

"...I know."

"How can you do this?"

"Because it needs to be done, one way or another. You should be proud of me. I could send people in to get the list. But I'm sure, one way or another, it'd turn into a bullet shower. Innocent people would die, as you hate so much. But this way, hell, no one gets hurt. Personally, going in guns blazing is more my style, but seeing as I won't need that list until I've dealt a bit of more damage here, I have time."

"So, I'm supposed to be happy that you're using me for extortion?"

He nodded happily. "It gives you a better reason for being here. You seemed to hate the idea of me using you to get Shaundi to behave. So here's a better one!"

"I hate you."

"You've said that already."

"Just wanted to make sure we were clear on that."

"Even though you like to snuggle up to me at night?"

Heat rushed to her cheeks again, forcing her to turn her head away from him.

"Wow, I don't think I've ever seen a black person blush down to their neck before. Maybe it's because you're so light?"

She got up, snatched up her now empty plate up, and marched over to the sink to clean the used dishes.

"So, have you always been like that? A cuddler?"

"Shut up." She dumped the dishes into hot, soapy lemon-scented water.

"It's an innocent question."

"...Yes." She grabbed a sponge and drizzled dish soap on it.

"It just means you were loved as a child and now are a loving person."

"How would you know?" She glared at him for a second before going back to the dishes.

"It shows in your mannerisms."

"Whatever."

"So, being the loving person that you are, why is it that you only hate the Saints in particular and not gangs in general?"

"Who said I didn't hate gangs in general?"

"I say it. You haven't said you hate gangs. You haven't said 'oh, you're a gang banger, so I hate you.'"

She stopped scrubbing the skillet and turned to him with soapy hands. "Okay, you're a gang banger. Therefore, I hate you."

"And if I wasn't one? Or a Saint?"

She opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say to him. His head was tilted to the side, watching her attentively, waiting for an answer. She looked down and began wringing her hands. "I don't know. I don't think we would ever meet otherwise."

"But if, for some predestined reason, we did?"

"You're too bossy to hold a conversation with. I think I'd be too turned off to even give you my number."

He nodded, "I am an asshole. But, back to my original question, why do you hate the Saints so much?"

She turned back to the dishes, finished them as quickly as she could without speaking, then dried and put them away. She bit her bottom lip the entire time, willing her eyes to stay dry. She took a deep breath then turned around, intending to go straight to the stairs, to the bathroom to cry. She knew it was silly, to cry every time she thought of Layla. But Layla was the closest thing she'd ever had to a sister. Being an only child, who only ever wished to have a sibling so she wouldn't be alone because her parents were so involved with work, it was devastating.

"Dee?"

Through her tear-blurred eyes, she saw him move quickly towards her. She gave a last-second attempt to pass him, but his hands caught her shoulders and pinned her to the refrigerator. She looked down at their feet, praying he wouldn't ask that stupid question people always seemed to ask when they saw a person who was about to cry. It never failed in making the tears power through her poker face. 'Don't ask. Don't ask. Don't ask.'

After what seemed like forever, he let go of her and leaned back, elbows on the kitchen counter. "Are we that bad?"

"A Saint killed someone I considered my sister." She whispered.

"When?"

"The Stilwater University Massacre."

"...Did you ever find out who did it?"

Her lip quivered as her will began to melt with hurt. "N-no. He g-got away."

She began to sip air through lips as the tears finally fell. She started shaking, so much so that her legs gave way and she slid down to the floor. The sirens came back, loud as ever. "No." She clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. It only made the images that much clearer. The flashing lights of the ambulance trucks. The blur of people rushing around. Lights flashing off of the gurneys. White sheets on the ground, blood stained. The pungent smell of gun smoke and emptied bowels. It seemed like no one knew who she was asking for. Every person she came across kept pushing her back, away from the building. She'd been ready to hit someone when she saw it, saw Layla's covered body being pushed out of the building. The sheet clung to her top half, soaked in blood. The wheels of the gurney caught on the steps as the paramedics tried to get it down the stairs. Her hand fell free, fingertips covered in the same fingernail polish she had on. Her hand had the same friendship ring she had on.

"Denitra!"

Jamien was shaking her.

The images were gone. The smells were gone. It was quiet once again.

"You're having a panic attack. Get up."

"No." It came out as a tortured moan, even to her ears.

"Okay, that's fine." His arms went around her and lifted her up. She felt so light, so light-headed.

"No." Her head fell against his chest, and suddenly she felt much smaller than she was. So insignificant. So lonely. So-

"Stay with me. Talk to me." He shook her slightly as he turned the corner on the stairs.

"But she's dead." She whispered, broken beyond repair. "She's gone..."

"I know, and I'm sorry won't cover it." She heard him say but didn't process the words for any meaning. A cool, soft towel was pressed to her forehead then down the sides of her face to her cheeks.

Time seemed to slip away.

At some point, she was aware of the heart beating in her ear, the arm that supported her back, the hand that rubbed her knee in a slow, calming motion. Jamien's scent, cigarettes, and mint chewing gum mingled with each breath she took. She had a fistful of his shirt in her hand and found it hard to let go of it. When her hand finally fell down to her lap, she felt him move. She looked up into his eyes then looked away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

His head tilted back up toward the ceiling. "I won't mention this if you won't."

"Thank you."

"Do you want to move?" She could hear the hesitation in his voice. She knew what he was thinking, the same thing people often thought whenever she had a mental breakdown. He wondered if she'd fall apart again if he let go. He more than likely didn't want to deal with this mess of a human being. If anything, he'd probably let her go after this. Get as far away from the psycho as he possibly could. Never look back. Just like everyone else had done before. He'd be no different. She could never be fixed.

"Calm down."

She looked up to see him frowning down at her. "What?"

"You're tensing up. You're gonna have another attack if you don't calm down."

She looked down. Everyone was the same. "I'm sorry." She tried to move away from him, but he held her tighter against him.

"You're not going anywhere. All I did was ask you if you wanted to move and you nearly fell apart again. I'm gonna hold you until you're screaming at me to let you go."

She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I will always fall apart. If my psychiatrist couldn't fix me, no one can."

"People can change. Therefore you can be fixed."

"People don't change. They act differently for a little bit, but they always go back to how they were."

"You don't honestly believe that, do you? I mean, look at us. The Saints have changed a lot over the years. At first, all we cared about protecting Stilwater from other gangs and keeping the peace. I mean, yeah, we had to do some dirty things ourselves, but we made it our mission to keep it to a minimum. And now, now it's all about the money and fame. Johnny wanted to go back to the old us. The Saints are a gang, and he wanted to stay true to that. It was his idea to rob the bank. He even picked it. I guess I should have paid more attention. Maybe I would have asked questions he normally didn't care to think of. If not me, then Pierce and Shaundi would have. We would have. We could have saved him if we had cared as much as we used to."

She looked up at him, surprised. She didn't think they paid much attention to when they lost another gang member.

"When they dumped his body off outside of our headquarters, I think it killed us. We kept hoping that Loren had lied, that Johnny was okay. He was the closest thing I ever had to a brother. He was a Saint before I was." He stopped and a look she didn't understand crossed his face. "I wonder if losing him is punishment for all the people we've taken away from their loved ones. An eye for an eye."

Chapter Text

Jamien's cell phone went off, bringing him back to the present. With his left hand, he reached into his pocket for the little noise maker. It was a text message from Zimos. He hesitated, knowing that if it were about Candi, he'd find the little fucker and ring his fucked up neck. Instead, it was about a hit:

Smoov's a hustler who don't recognize old school anymore, dig? Now he hangs with the Syndicate. Grab one of his hos in Henry Steel Mills. His hos will be the fatter, uglier ones...not those tight strippers you see prancin' around. Anyway, when he shows, ice that cat.

Smoov was no stranger to Jamien.

Of course, Jamien knew he could follow Zimos' instructions. It would most likely end in a shoot out of some sort. He looked down at the girl in his lap and knew that, despite whatever she'd say, she'd have some difficulty looking at any of the other Saints besides him. He'd seen her at her worse and didn't judge her. Besides, fresh air could do her some good. "How fast can you get dressed?"

"For what? Where are we going?"

He debated on telling her the truth or not. "Zimos needs me to take someone out for him."

"Why do I have to go?"

"He wants me to do it publicly. I think, with your help, I can do it privately."

"And just what makes you think I would be willing to help you kill someone just because Zimos asked you to?" She frowned, putting little wrinkles in her forehead.

"Because Smoov abuses his girls. There are a lot of girls here in Safeword that used to work for him. I've heard the stories, seen the damage. Most of the time he's satisfied with just hitting them, other times he likes to do much worse. Just because they've been dealt a shitty hand doesn't mean they can be treated like shit. Personally, I've wanted to put a bullet in him for a while now." He looked at her. "These girls are someone's mother, someone's sister, daughter, niece."

"You don't have the right to kill him. That's what the justice system is for."

"You know as well as I do the system is flawed, broken. Innocent people get convicted while the guilty go free. The guilty, more often than not, aren't punished to fit the crime. I'll do the system a favor and take this little matter off of their hands."

Her frown deepened. "I don't like this, but-"

"You'll do it? For them?" He tried not to sound hopeful, but she nodded. "Great. So, you'll need an outfit..."

It wasn't hard to get a Morningstar Infuego. It wasn't hard to strip a Morningstar henchman of his clothes. It wasn't even hard to get the location of where Smoov operated and get inside.

It was damn near impossible to get Denitra to cooperate, though.

"Will you shut up?" Jamien looked at her, exasperated.

"No! This is stupid. And degrading! I can't believe I let you dress me like this." She continued tugging on the hem of her skirt. If it could be considered a skirt. Jamien loved the outfit. Leather & Lace never disappointed him. Though she was extremely self-conscious about her body, it only took him about an hour to get her to put the very questionable yet delicious outfit on. The top was simply a red lace see-thru sash adjusted so that it looked like a halter top that tied in the back and barely covered her breasts. The skirt? It had a black leather waist that was barely five inches wide, and the red lace ruffles seemed shorter than the waistband. He'd never tell her that her ass did hang out and that her thong matched the outfit. Never. The black stockings and garter belt was her idea, her attempt to have some say in how she looked.

For a minute or so, he couldn't understand why she'd been so upset when Zimos offered her a job.

The elevator took the pair up a floor. Jamien tugged on the lapels of his suit, mindful of why he hated wearing them. He adjusted his gloves and tinted sunglasses as Denitra patted her hair. Though it was sexy, Jamien hated that she'd simply pinned her purple bangs back into a small pompadour. He'd wanted to color it black like the rest of her hair but she refused with threats of bodily harm should he try to do it himself. 'Please don't let the asshole ask about it.'

The doors opened they stepped out and into their roles. Denitra began to smack and chew on her gum noisily, and Jamien didn't have to pretend to be annoyed by it. He found the door he was looking for and knocked on it.

"Whadda you want?" The guy could have passed for a Bruce Willis reject, even with his Frenchy accent.

"I need to see Smoov. I have a stripper who I'm told he can handle." Jamien responded in an accent that sounded close to the guy's, nodding his head towards Denitra, who smacked her lips and sighed loudly. "Please, it's of utmost importance."

The guy leaned over slightly to look at Denitra intensely, then licked his lips slowly. "Come in and have a seat. I'll see to it that he gets your message immediately." He stepped to the side to allow them inside. Jamien grabbed Denitra by her elbow and pulled her along. The room looked like a living room, decorated with the fanciest crap they could find. 'Rich French fucks...' Denitra plopped down on the couch, crossed her legs, and began picking at her nails, smacking her gum over and over. The man left the room and locked the door behind him. Jamien chose to stand and wait, hands in his pockets to keep from wringing Denitra's neck. 'It's all an act. She's just playing her part.'

Pop. Pop. Pop. Smack, smack. Pop.

"DENITRA!"

"What?" She looked at him, confused.

"Could you lay off of the damn gum? You're driving me fucking nuts."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your being 'fucking nuts' was done long before I came along." She made air quotations before flipping him off. He had to turn away from her to keep his composure. Of the top ten things a woman shouldn't do while wearing an outfit like that, give out obscene invitations topped the list. He preoccupied himself with wandering around the room, looking at the sculptures and paintings. He made the mistake of going too far from the door when the man returned with Smoov, along with three other armed Morningstar members. 'Well, isn't that just fucking great...'

It placed him in a bad spot. The men moved to stand near the four corners of the room as Smoov went to stand directly in front of Denitra. "Stand up."

Denitra frowned. "What, you can't say 'please'?"

Jamien bit his lip and took a chance, crossing the room to stand closer. "Disrespectful chit, isn't she?"

Smoov turned to Jamien and extended his huge, meaty hand. "Damn right, she is."

Jamien fought off the urge to refuse it and shook the man's hand, careful not to drop it too quickly. "She's the best stripper I have. I don't let her dance in the club anymore. She's gotten too full of herself. Can't let her do private parties. She demands more money. What stripper demands more money from their clients?" Jamien shook his head. "I figure I should cut my losses and let her go. As you can see, she's more than...equipped...to be a prostitute. I was hoping that I could trade her in for a pretty penny." Jamien shrugged.

"Where did you find her?" Smoov grabbed her by her injured wrist and yanked her to her feet. To her credit, she didn't cry out in pain but shot the man daggers.

"Wandering around Loren Square asking for directions."

Smoov nodded, still holding Denitra's small wrist in his hand. "She's hella short for a stripper, ain't she?" He forced her to turn around in a circle for him. "A little thick. Our gym trainer could slim down her waist in a week or two." He stopped her and touched her hair. "What's the fuck up with the purple?"

She yanked her hand away from him. "It's my favorite fucking color. Could you not be more gentle?" She rubbed her wrist gingerly.

Though Jamien saw it coming, he knew it would look suspicious if he did anything. Denitra's head snapped to the side in a quick, fierce manner. She turned back towards Smoov slowly, holding her cheek. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth dropped open in shock.

"You need to learn a ho's place." Smoov's deep baritone filled the silence in the room. Jamien caught Denitra's gaze then looked at the floor. He wanted nothing more than to put his gun to the side of the man's head and return the favor right then and there. The look in Denitra's eyes stopped him. She was scared. Had she never been hit by a man before? Worse than the fear was the doubt. She looked at him as if he were her last hope, as if he would leave her there with the man. 'Like fucking hell...' He couldn't pull a gun on Smoov now, not with the other gunmen in the room. It could get Denitra killed. Ah, the downside of having a civilian along on an assassination attempt. Jamien: 0 Hindsight: 12.

"Come on, bitch." Smoov shoved Denitra towards the door.

"W-wait." She tried to turn, to say something to Jamien, but Smoov wouldn't let her.

"Shut up and walk."

Jamien waited until the door shut to make his move. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pack of Newports, hitting the bottom with the heel of his palm before sliding one out and putting it between his lips. He then went to search his pockets for his lighter and couldn't find the damn thing. More than likely in the cup holder in his car. "Fuck."

"Need a light?"

He didn't know who said it, but he nodded. "Yeah."

The one who'd spoken and then approached him was a newbie. He needed a strap for his gun and carelessly tossed it over his shoulder to fish out a nifty propane lighter. He eagerly held it out for Jamien to light his cigarette. "There you go."

"Thanks." Jamien inhaled deeply and exhaled before sliding the cigarette to the corner of his mouth, grabbing the man by his tie and slamming his forehead into the man's nose. His first reaction was to grab his nose, not his gun, and Jamien didn't mind one bit. He turned the man around and used him to block the bullets that suddenly charged in his direction. Jamien unclipped the strap to the gun in one smooth motion and returned fire in three short bursts. He let go of his friendly dead friend and took a quick drag on his cigarette.

The hallway was clear, which didn't surprise Jamien. He pulled out two KA-1 Kobras with silencers attached and quietly went down the hall. He had come to the end of the hall when he heard a loud smack followed by a whimper. He pushed the door open to find Denitra sprawled across a bed in front of Smoov, who looked at him over his shoulder with a cell phone pressed to his ear. "Tell Killbane I have the girl that's all over the news." He spoke to Jamien. "The fuck you want?"

Jamien couldn't help but look at Denitra's face, both cheeks now equally red and tears in her eyes.

"I got a call to help handle a Saints raid. I need the money up front so I can get going." Jamien didn't take his eyes off of Denitra, knowing that if he looked at Smoov, the man wouldn't mistake the murder in his eyes.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" The man turned and slowly stalked towards him. "You don't demand shit from me. This is a fucking negotiation. I have to check out the merchandise before buying, you understand?"

Jamien smiled, knowing that it didn't reach his eyes. "Funny thing is, I never planned on leaving without her. I just hoped I could score some extra cash." Two quick shots to the face dropped the man. He picked up the dropped cell phone and put it on speaker. The sound of breathing filled the silence in the room before a very familiar voice spoke.

"A word of advice: you should watch the girl closely, or you'll lose her."

The line disconnected and Jamien dropped the phone. "Fuck." He held out his hand for Denitra who wasted no time scrambling off of the bed to take it. Instead of taking the elevator, he chose the stairs since he parked his car next to the emergency exit.

What good that did him...

Outside, four other Morningstar Infuegos were lined up behind the one he'd stolen. They immediately opened fire, forcing him to seek shelter.

"We're gonna die!" Denitra shrieked as she crouched down behind him.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" He asked, smiling at her. "Stay here then."

He turned and rolled out the door, hiding behind his car. Peering over the trunk, he made quick shots at his enemies, taking care to aim for their heads. It wasn't long before he'd thinned their numbers down enough to make a run for it, but by then the car he planned to use to get away was smoking. "Fuck it." He ran back to the door and yanked it open, then snatched Denitra out. The bullets slowed significantly but didn't stop. As Jamien made a run for the street, he noticed that the Morningstar was now aiming at him, instead of just letting bullets fly.

Across the street, a fancy black Raycaster sat parallel parked along the curb in front of a pawn shop. "Get in!" Jamien shouted to Denitra as he ran around the car to the driver's side. As his luck would have it, the keys were left in the ignition. As Denitra struggled into her seatbelt, Jamien gunned it, zooming down the street and away from the Morningstar.

There was something about the Broken Shillelagh that Jamien loved. Maybe it was the smoke and liquor scent it always had. Or that it never had too many customers inside of it. It could have been the atmosphere, dimmed lights, and soft music that played from a cheap radio behind the bar.

Jamien sipped his scotch slowly as he waited for Denitra to change clothes. She hadn't said a word to him since they'd successfully ditched the Morningstar. He knew he deserved it; he'd nearly gotten her killed. Again. Not to mention that she'd suffered a little more abuse than she thought she would from Smoov.

She slipped onto the bar stool beside him. "Much better." She whispered. She'd changed into a simple black shirt, blue jean skirt, and black flip-flops.

He signaled for the bartender and ordered her a strawberry margarita with extra tequila. "How are you feeling?"

She cut her eyes at him. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?"

He shrugged. "You'd be pissed at me if I didn't."

She looked away, then nodded slowly. "I guess you're right. I don't know exactly how I feel right now, but I can't stop shaking."

He motioned to her drink once it was placed in front of her. "Drink up. The alcohol should counter the adrenaline in your system. Do you smoke?"

She shook her head. "Drinking does enough damage to your liver. Smoking is overkill." She sipped her drink and shivered slightly.

Jamien made a mental note to avoid smoking around her, if possible. He didn't want any lectures from her about his health. He shifted slightly in his seat, glad to be rid of that obnoxious suit and pink tie. They were silent for a few minutes before Denitra spoke again. "So it just comes naturally to you, being able to take another person's life?"

Jamien immediately downed the rest of his drink and signaled for a refill. "It's something I learned to do over time."

"How do you learn something like that over time?" She looked at him.

"Life." He looked at her for a second before focusing on his drink. "Life makes you learn. You either take it from others or have them take it from you."

"Not everyone is out to get you."

"No, but there is always someone who is."

"Who was the first person to try to take from you?"

He hesitated. Did he want Denitra to know anything about him? "My mother. She took from me first." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the question in her eyes. "My dad walked out on her when she got pregnant with me. After she had me, she gave up on life. Turned to drugs. I had to grow up faster than the other kids my age just to survive; if I'd try to rely on her, I'd be dead now."

"So...she took your innocence?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

She nodded. "I understand that, but I don't see how that leads to being a killer."

Jamien looked at her. "You've had something taken from you, something you held dear to your heart. Can you honestly say you've never thought that, if it could change anything, you'd kill for her?"

That shut her up.

He turned back to his drink. "After a while, you get tired of people taking things from you. You start to fight back. Once you start fighting, it's only a matter of time before you reach the point of no return. That's when it becomes easy."

She nodded and swirled her finger around in her drink.

When the silence started to become uncomfortable, Jamien asked, "Did he hurt you?"

She stiffened for a second. "I can't believe I went through with that. He hit me three times, just because I'd said something he didn't like. I'm not hurt, but still..."

"You're alive, and that's all that matters." Jamien smiled as he sipped his drink.

She looked at him, her eyes dark with anger. "I could have died. You didn't say anything about a fucking shootout, Jamien."

He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. "I know."

"You know?" She turned towards him. "That's all you have to say? You tell me things are going to go one way, and when it nearly ends in disaster, all you have to say is 'I know'?"

"I can't predict how things will go all of the time, Dee."

"I understand that, but don't you think you should at least apologize?"

"Would it be enough for you if I did? Because I get the impression that an apology wouldn't stop you from being pissed about it."

"It wouldn't matter if I stopped being pissed or not. I deserve one for all the shit I just went through."

"Well then, I apologize for putting you through that." The words left a funny taste in his mouth. "If it means anything to you, I didn't expect him to hit you. Manhandle you a little bit, yes, but not just hit you. I wanted to shoot him the second he did it, but I thought that pulling a gun on him would only get you killed."

She was quiet for a minute or two. "I accept your apology, even if it does sound half-assed. From what little I experienced with him, I believe you when you said Smoov abuses his girls." She paused. "What happens to them now that he's dead?"

"Depends. Some might stay employed with the Morningstar. With the DeWynter sisters gone, I doubt it. Some will go work for Zimos. The rest might quit altogether and go get regular jobs. It's their choice; the Syndicate doesn't have anyone else to run their stripper and ho business."

After that, they sat in silence as Denitra finished her drink. He could tell from her pensive expression that she was a bit relieved that what she went through would help someone in the long run. Maybe she wasn't as spoiled as he thought she was. She pushed her empty glass away and stood up. He fished out the money for their drinks and tossed it onto the counter then followed suit. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, and he turned to walk out the door, but she stopped him with a hand on his elbow. "Promise me something."

He looked at her. "Yeah?"

She held up her pinky finger. "Promise me you won't ever use me again for your own personal gain. Although this time benefited a lot of people, I still feel like it was more for you and a friend than anyone else."

He looked at her then her pinky before he hooked his own around it. "Fine. I promise I won't use you for my own personal gain ever again."

"Thanks." She whispered when he let go.

As they got closer to the car, he couldn't help but poke fun at her a little. "I'll just have to make it so that it's in your favor instead."

While she cussed him out, he wondered what Killbane, of all people, would want with her.

Chapter Text

As the elevator doors shut, Denitra could hear the old grandfather clock in the lobby of Safeword chime, announcing that it was midnight, the start of Wednesday. It was now going on day four of her time with the Saints. Oh, the agony.

As they traveled up to the penthouse suite, she noticed that Jamien still hadn't looked at her. The way he set his mouth in a tight line, she figured it'd be a while before she heard a word from him. Maybe, just maybe, the man had learned his lesson about wanting her to go with him every-damn-where and exposing her to just any-damn-body.

After they'd left the Broken Shillelagh, Jamien had gotten a phone call from Zimos, who wanted to give Jamien his money for his work and ask for yet another favor. She'd begged Jamien to take her back to the penthouse, but he insisted that it would save time and gas just to take her along.

Denitra bit back a chuckle as they stepped off of the elevator and Jamien immediately hit the bar. She made her way upstairs to the bathroom, both needing and wanting to take a long, luxurious bubble bath to unwind and calm down. As the tub filled, she wondered why Jamien was so pressed to have her with him all the time. The brothel was constantly occupied with Saints members, who were almost always armed, so she would not go anywhere. If they couldn't stop just one unarmed woman from escaping, then he needed to look into finding better thugs.

The water felt way better than she thought it would. The lavender-scented bubbles coupled with the baby oil was just what the doctor ordered. Though she tried to relax and block out all thoughts of Jamien, Zimos, and the bullshit the two of them had cooked up, she couldn't.

Zimos had asked Jamien to play chauffeur for one of his girls while she serviced a few clients in the car's backseat. Denitra attempted to strangle Zimos because she'd thought he had intended for her to do it by the way he'd stared at her while he'd said it. It's a good thing that Jamien has such good reflexes. Despite her loud protests, they forced her to ride shotgun. She'd refused to say a word to Jamien until the sensual noises made in the backseat got louder than the sounds of squealing tires as Jamien drove recklessly, trying to avoid the gang of tabloid reporters pursuing them to get pictures of the clients the girl was servicing.

"How in the hell can you do this shit?" Denitra asked heatedly, throwing a thumb over her shoulder to show she was talking about driving around a sexmobile that smelled of sweat and shame.

He shrugged and cut around another corner, narrowly missing an elderly couple trying to cross the street. He did, however, hit the police officer walking behind them. "There's a lot of things in life we don't want to do but have to. You learn to deal with it."

"You don't 'have to' do this. You have plenty of money."

He chuckled. "Sure, I don't. But the money I make from doing little side things like this doesn't benefit me directly. To me, this is no different than a woman choosing to sell her body so that her kids can eat and have a place to sleep at night. You do what the fuck you have to do."

To say that it appalled her would be an understatement. "How in the hell can you compare this to something like that?"

"It's the same damn thing to me. In a sense, I'm pimping myself out for money. I offer to do whatever Zimos, Kinzie, or Angel needs doing to earn some money. Hell, you watched me get run the fuck over for money. I'm doing something I really don't wanna do-"

"You don't have any children in need, you asshole!" She shouted at him, hands balled up into tight fists, prepared to hit him.

He cut his eyes at her, suddenly losing his sense of humor. Even though she was now sitting in a tub filled with hot water, a chill still ran down her spine at the memory of how cold his eyes had been as he spoke to her. "If you hadn't noticed, the Saints are mostly of teens and young adults. To me, they are children. Other gangs don't give two shits about their runts. I make sure that every one of my members has access to health care, have a home, and receive some sort of paycheck to help with their bills and expenses."

"Why do you care so much about their personal lives?" She had only whispered, but somehow, he'd heard her over all the surrounding commotion. It was as if they were the only ones in the car, cruising down a quiet country road.

"You learn to appreciate what people do for you." Though his body was focused on evading the reporters and police to give the client the absolute thrill he needed, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. "I had a kid break me out of prison then, in turn, help me get as close as he could get me to bring down the Brotherhood. The entire time I worked with him, all I ever did was make demands of him. If his effort wasn't good enough, I made his ass go back out and told him not to bother me again until he had done better. I constantly pushed him, demanded from him, and took from him, without ever saying thanks or job well done. In the end, I had to put a bullet in his skull to spare him a slow death that I caused."

She couldn't stop her jaw from dropping open.

He nodded as if answering some question she hadn't heard. "Yeah, you learn to appreciate what others do for you. You let them know that it means something to you." He looked at her with a haunted look in his eyes. "It ever occur to you that being a Saint is bad for one's health? That it's a full-time job? Third Street Saints is a multi-million dollar name now, but only the veterans are seeing any of that money. The recruits don't see shit unless it's given to them. The way Legal Lee set things up, they have to be a Saint for a year before they can get a legal job title and paycheck. I don't want the newer members to be left ass out, so I started a little side account. The money from the side jobs I do goes into it for them in case they need it. I call it the Carlos Charity. He'd think that's a shitty name, but it was the best I could come up with." Zimos' hooker spoke up then, telling Jamien that she was done. It wasn't until they had let the client out and Jamien was parking the car in the lot outside of Zimos' Pad that he spoke again. "I'm Daddy, and they're my kids. I gotta support them if they're gonna support me and take risks for the name of the Saints."

It felt weird to look at things from a different point of view. It was even stranger to understand and agree with Jamien. Growing up in a politician's household, she firmly believed in the justice system despite its shortcomings. She realized the more time she spent with Jamien, the more of the other side of the coin she saw.

She wiggled her toes, playing with the soap suds as another part of the day replayed itself. Zimos had asked her if she'd reconsider working for him. Instead of giving him the angry response he wanted, she'd calmly declined the offer. Determined to piss her off somehow, he then bluntly asked her if she was sleeping with Jamien. At the same time she'd denied it, Jamien turned and snatched open the front door, causing it to hit the wall with a loud slam, then all but dragged her down to his car. She couldn't tell if he was frustrated or pissed off, but when she tried to ask him about it in the car, he brushed her off.

"Just let it go." That was the last thing he'd said to her.

She sank into the water until her chin touched the water. Did it bother him that much that someone would ask her that? In all fairness, there were times she expected him to come onto her if he was genuinely abstaining from Candi. Was he insulted someone would assume that? Now he was practically ignoring her when usually he'd be annoying the shit out of her.

He was definitely insulted.

With a heavy sigh, she heaved herself out of the tub and dressed for bed. Jamien was sprawled across the bed, face down. Half hoping he was asleep or dead, she tiptoed to the closet near the stairs and pulled out a pillow and a blanket. She closed it quietly and turned for the stairs.

"Dee?"

She cursed quietly and turned. He had rolled over onto his side, staring at her intently like a lion watching its prey. "Yes?"

"Where you going?"

"To sleep downstairs."

"I thought we settled sleeping arrangements days ago?"

"The first night you put me in the bed after I'd fallen asleep on the couch. Last night I fell asleep in the bed first then you got in. So, I say we follow the pattern, and I go fall asleep on the couch then you can move me if you feel up to it."

"I don't, so could we just skip a step and you get in the bed now?"

"Why does it matter where I sleep?"

He smiled boyishly. "Because I'm afraid of the dark."

"It's never fully dark in here."

"I get lonely."

"I can go get Candi for you."

He frowned. "I don't want Candi."

"Why not? She's been good enough for you until now. Me being here shouldn't change that for you."

"No, it shouldn't." He whispered. About to turn for the stairs, she stopped and looked at him.

"What?"

He sighed, loud and annoyed. "Can you just come lay down? Please? I'll sleep on top of the comforter so I won't accidentally touch you. It's been a long day, and I'm sure we could both use a good night's sleep."

She considered it. He did seem exhausted. They had been through hell and back in one day. He'd been there for her when she needed him. She bit her lip. It wouldn't kill her to play nice, just this once. She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. "Fine."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Don't question me. I'll change my mind." She muttered as she walked around the bed and climbed in. He lazily rolled over onto his back, grinning from ear to ear, as she got settled in.

"You don't have to sleep strictly on your side of the bed, Dee. I know you like to cuddle." He wiggled his eyebrows. "That's why I'm sleeping on top of the covers."

She didn't want to. She turned her back to Jamien and closed her eyes, convinced that if she ignored him, she could fall asleep.

"Deniiiiitra." He tapped her shoulder. "You know you want to."

The feel of his fingertips on her bare skin had her holding her breath. She wanted to tell him to back off, but she knew if she opened her mouth, she would more than likely end up embarrassing herself. Would it be so wrong to give in if just once? She rolled over, and he immediately stretched out his arm, offering his bicep as a pillow. "If you so much as snicker I'm moving to the couch, damn it."

"I won't say a word. Scout's honor."

"You're far from a boy scout. Of any kind."

"Do we have to go tit for tat for every little thing?"

"Only if you insist on having the last word."

"You're the worst type of woman."

"You're the worst type of man."

He laughed and pulled her closer. "Then we'll be the best of friends."

She waited until his laughter died down. "Jamien?"

"Yeah."

"You told me a bit about your mom's affect on your childhood. What about the rest?"

Jamien stiffened for a moment then sighed softly. He reached over to the nightstand and picked up a sleek, black remote, then the lights in the penthouse dimmed. "What part do you want to hear?"

It surprised her. She didn't think he'd be so willing to answer. "Um, I noticed that when you want something, you go get it. If something's taken from you, or threatened, you move mountains and cause earthquakes."

He nodded and closed his eyes. "When I was a kid, after my mom got strung out on drugs, there was this couple that lived next door. The husband was a firefighter, the wife a teacher. They had no kids, but you could tell they wanted some. Instead of turning my mom in to the child protective services, they adopted me. I could go over there whenever I wanted, and they'd feed and clothe me, let me sleep in a clean bed. They gave me a toy firetruck for Christmas. It was the first and last thing anyone had ever given me for Christmas. I cherished it. They died in a gas station robbery the day after New Year's."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They didn't suffer. Of course, I got really attached to the truck. It was all I had left of the first people to ever care about me. I started taking it to school with me. I guess it caught the attention of this fat little fucker at school and he followed me home. I told my mom, all bruised and bloody, that some kid had attacked me and took my truck. The bitch told me to suck it up and stop my damn whining. At that moment, I realized that if I ever wanted anything, or wanted to protect or keep it, I'd have to do it myself, in whatever way I could."

"Did you ever get the truck back?"

"...No. But a few years later, I found his fat ass and beat the piss out of him." He shrugged. "It made me feel a little better to see his leg broken."

"Wow."

He chuckled, and his hand of the arm she was lying on began gently stroking up and down her arm. "So... Tell me what happened the day your friend died."

She hesitated, not wanting to relive that night so soon after a panic attack, but remembered how well he'd handled it all earlier. Besides, she'd retold the story to so many psychiatrists and psychologists over the past few years that it couldn't hurt to tell a psychopath. "I want to. I'm just scared-"

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I'm just curious. But I think you'll be okay. If it gets to be too much for you, I'll stop you, and we can just go to sleep."

"Okay." She took a deep, calming breath. "I always kept her company during her night shifts at the Gift Shoppe. That night, Layla wanted to see this new horror movie that showed when she got off. She was really excited about it. When it got close to her lunch break, I asked her if she wanted me to run over to Charred Hard Burgers and get us something to eat, like I always did. Instead, she wanted something different. The one time she wanted something different..." She paused, taking in another deep breath, and inhaling his minty cigarette scent. It was enough to keep the images at bay. "She asked me to drive over to Freckle B's over in Sommerset. I didn't think much of it, just said okay. When I got to my car, a purple Bootlegger was pulling into the parking lot. They tinted the windows, so I don't even know how many people were in the damn car, and nobody moved while I was backing out and driving away."

"The car was purple. Is that how you know it was one of us?" His voice was quiet, thoughtful even.

She shook her head slightly. "A witness said the shooter had a Fleur-de-Lis tattoo on his right shoulder." She was too preoccupied to notice that he held his breath, waiting for her to say the obvious. "Shitty part about that is that damn near every Saint has the same tattoo in the same place. Without a solid description, they couldn't really use the information. When I came back, the entire campus was lit with red and blue flashing lights. Police, EMTs, and bodies under blood-stained sheets were everywhere. I tried to get inside, but they had taped it off, refused to let anyone near the steps. I was arguing with an officer when I saw them wheel a gurney out to an ambulance." Though her eyes filled with tears, she kept whispering. "Somehow, I knew right then. I just didn't wanna believe it. As they took it down the stairs, one of the wheels hit a step, and they nearly dropped it. Her hand... Her hand fell free, and I saw our friendship ring, our friendship color. In fifteen minutes, I lost my best friend."

Jamien waited until he was sure she was done, and her sniffles got louder before turning towards her and putting his other arm around her. He didn't offer her any comforting words. He had none to give. She was sure that if he'd tried, it probably would have made her cry harder. He surprised her by gently pressing his lips to her forehead and rubbing her arm. As he pulled away, she looked up at him in question.

"I'm sorry I asked. I mean, I know the details of what happened, but for some reason, I needed to hear it from you."

She was speechless. Jamien closed his eyes, and it seemed like he'd instantly fallen asleep. All she could do was stare at him and wonder. He'd asked earlier how she'd feel about him if he weren't a Saint, a gangbanger. The question had been so ridiculous that she gave him the first answer that came to mind. But now, as they laid quietly in the dim light of the city's illuminated skyscrapers, she wondered, too. As she inhaled his minty tobacco scent, she pictured him as an ordinary guy. Maybe he could have been a construction worker. Nah, too boring. Maybe a police officer or even an FBI agent. Ha, hell no. She couldn't see him as an educator of any sort for any age group. Desk jobs didn't suit him. Actually, it seemed anything that didn't carry a daily life threat wouldn't make him happy.

Make him happy?

Since when did she care about his happiness?

The thought alarmed her until she remembered that everyone should be happy, had a right to be. So if what she considered normal and healthy would make Jamien miserable, did that mean he was just meant to be a gangbanger? Was he meant to run around every day avoiding bullets, running over pedestrians, and shoot at enemies? If so, did that mean she could never see him as a human being, someone worthy of love and affection?

Holy hell, why did she care?

She sucked in air sharply as heat licked at her cheeks. She cared about him. Sure, he'd pointed that out after pretending to die in the middle of an intersection, but this was different. She cared about him. Hopefully, Satan had an emergency pair of mittens and earmuffs lying around somewhere because she was sure he was experiencing a rapid plunge in temperature in hell.

Jamien's snore made her jump. He was truly asleep. He wasn't the monster she thought him to be when she first met him. He cared about those closest to him, even the ones he'd just met. She told him she hated him and minutes later he was comforting her in a way that no one else had been able to. Everyone else, including her parents, would have held her at arm's length and tried to rush her to the nearest psych ward. He only held her and waited for the storm to pass. Remembering what it'd been like to regain her sanity in his arms defrosted her heart a bit more. He might be a bossy little wise-ass, but he had a heart, despite however small it might be.

She scooted a little closer, even dared to put her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. Yeah, it was there. She eyed his face, taking in everything she could. His eyelashes were long, something she'd never noticed before. If she ever felt particularly bitchy, she'd buy him eyelash curlers and wrap them in a pretty pink bow. His nose was narrow with a slight bump near the bridge, apparently from a few angry fists to the face. He would need to shave in the morning. He was looking a bit scruffy. Without a second thought, she reached over and traced his jawline, enjoying the texture of his whiskers on her fingertips. When her fingers were close enough, she allowed herself to touch his lips. They were much softer than she'd imagined. Shocked by the texture, she wondered what it would like to kiss him, what kind of kisser he was. Was he passionate or shy? Did he enjoy Frenching or simple pecks? Better yet, would he leave those dazzling blue eyes open to watch the effect he had or did he close them?

What would it be like to be loved by him, in every way possible?

She bit her lip and let her hand slide down to his chest, lightly taking a fistful of his shirt in her hand, as her eyelids drooped with sleep. Her lips curved in a lazy smile.

It couldn't be so bad, not really, to allow herself to freely fall in love and not be on the defensive all the time, right?

The last thing she registered before slipping off into her dreams, was the gentle pressure of soft lips against her own.

Chapter Text

Waking up after the best night of sleep he'd gotten in months, if not years, put Jamien in a great mood. Even though his silk sheets were only partially warm, they smelled strongly of baby lotion and hairspray. Denitra may not have been in bed, but she hadn't been gone long. By the time he was contemplating whether or not to open his eyes, someone was gently shaking his shoulder. Just by the touch alone, he knew who it was. Reaching blindly, he caught her arm and yanked her down over him and onto the bed.

"Jamien!"

"Good morning."

"Ugh, let me up."

He smirked, peeking at her with one eye. "I said good morning."

"And I said let me up, damn it."

"It's too good of a morning for you to be all cranky. I'll let you up if you kiss me."

It was well worth the jab to hear her choke on her spit. "W-what?"

"Kiss me on the cheek, and I'll let you go. If not, we're taking a day off to stay in bed."

"Y-you asshole!"

"Sticks and stone, doll." He stuck out his cheek. "Now come on. Daddy wants his kiss."

He closed his eyes and waited, so sure she'd give in to temptation.

"Have you even been thinking about our next move with the Syndicate?"

Ugh. Jamien wondered if it was too late to pretend he was still asleep.

"I know you aren't asleep." Shaundi sounded more irritated than she had the last time he'd seen her.

He swallowed a sigh and rolled over, grinning up at her scowling face. "What gave it away?"

"I've been here since you tried to play kissy face. She didn't see me come up behind her." Shaundi snatched the comforter off of him, surprised that he had on clothes. "Do you have any news on the Syndicate? Have you made any new plans for our next move? Or have you been too busy trying to get laid?"

That did it. Jamien was up so quickly it nearly gave him a head rush. "I swear you have a fucking death wish, bitch. I told you to leave the shit to me."

"Well, I wouldn't have to keep asking about it if you were on your shit! I asked Pierce, and he said he hadn't heard shit from you since fucking Sunday night! This isn't the time to take a fucking vacation!"

There were tears in her eyes. He swore softly and covered his mouth, turning away from those sad eyes. He had to remind himself, forcibly, that she had feelings for Johnny, however one-sided they had been. "Shaundi, I go through a lot of shit on a daily basis. From time to time, I'm entitled to take a few days off and relax and have a little fun."

He watched the woman ice over, from head to toe, and become as frigid as a glacier. She spoke evenly through gritted teeth, "Johnny will have died for nothing if you keep bullshitting around, damn it."

"Unless my memory's gone completely, Shaundi, he died to keep us alive. He sacrificed himself for us." His tone dropped to match hers.

She scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest, tossing her head back and sticking her chin out at him. "And I fully intend to make what he did worth it. I guess he didn't mean as much to you as he'd thought."

"JAMIEN!" He heard Denitra's screaming in his ear, high and frantic. He could feel two pairs of hands prying at his hands, hers and Shaundi's. "Please, Jamien, let her go!" It wasn't until he heard Denitra pleading for Shaundi's life that he realized his hands were firmly wrapped around the woman's throat, her face slowly turning blue from lack of air. He released her, and she fell to the floor, coughing violently as Denitra rubbed her back.

He wasn't sorry, and he would never be. He didn't give a fuck who she was. Shaundi would learn to watch what the fuck she said. Period. "You should learn to lighten up Shaundi." He left the girls there and went downstairs, determined to have a cup of coffee and a shot of tequila to start his day off better. A little later Denitra came downstairs and got herself a bowl of cereal, choosing to sit near the windows, away from him, and eat quietly. Shaundi stood on the other side of the kitchen island, her neck one big purple bruise.

"You should take her to college." Her voice was rough and hoarse, but there.

Jamien allowed his head to drop, hard, on the counter. The girl just didn't know when to quit. "I was sure you wouldn't be able to talk at all."

"Tough luck. She needs to get out of here."

"No."

"Why the fuck not?" She threw her hands up, exasperated. He could be so fucking stubborn sometimes.

'Why the fuck not, indeed.' Jamien fought the urge to just shrug his shoulders, knowing full well that if he didn't answer, she'd never shut the hell up. But damn it if he couldn't answer her. He knew if he wanted to make a point about her trying to tell him what to do, he could just kick her ass. It was more than that now. In fact, it had little to do with that. It was about Denitra. She'd come into his life, all but dropped into his lap, and he hadn't wanted to let go. He couldn't say exactly what it was about her he'd was so fond of, physically or mentally. He hadn't really thought about it. He just knew that now she was there, he'd come up with excuse after excuse as to why she could never leave. "This is not what I consider 'minding your business,' Shaundi."

She nodded her head, far from being done with the topic. "Fine. Fuck you, too. I hope a piece of ass is worth it."

And she left.

She never really handled new girls well. He blew out a huff of air and looked at Denitra. "She can be a real bitch sometimes."

"But she has a point. She's right, and you're wrong."

He flinched as if she'd hit him. "What?"

"You haven't gone out since Sunday, the first night I stayed here."

"What's wrong with everyone?! It's only fucking Wednesday!" He threw his hands up then allowed his head to drop on the counter again, harder this time. "Kinzie's still shopping for some fancy chair she wants. I can't do shit until she calls me. That's why I'm doing side jobs and shit, while I have the time."

"Then why didn't you tell her that?" Her brown eyes were wide with sympathy and confusion.

"Because she's just a lieutenant! She does what the fuck I tell her to do when I tell her to do it. She doesn't have a right to question me."

"Who does?"

"Joh- Pierce. He's my second in command. And he doesn't have his head up my ass asking me a million fucking questions so she should sit the fuck down somewhere." He pushed away from the counter, fuming. The urge to throw something, hit someone, shoot someone was strong.

She got up and crossed the room to the kitchen. Her bare feet padded softly on the tile as she went to the sink to wash her bowl. "Then maybe you could put Pierce to use while you wait and have him talk to Shaundi before you kill her."

"If she'd just stay focused on her shit until she gets a call from me, we wouldn't have this problem."

"I thought you were only keeping me around to piss her off, but it seems it's pissing you off more."

He put a hand over his face. "She's taking all the fun out of it. I've gotten used to having someone besides her and Pierce to talk to and keep me company."

She turned around, eyes narrowed and full of anger. "Then I suggest you get a fucking dog, Jamien."

He had to admit, her anger was very attractive and arousing. "Dogs can't talk. And I'm not into bestiality."

Her face scrunched up until he barely recognized her. "Can I go home now?"

"No." His answer was automatic, as it had been earlier. "Your father has STAG and the police hounding me and the gang looking for you." Which was why he took her everywhere he went, never knowing if Mayor Fuller would get bold enough to have the police storm Safeword if he left her there. Not to mention, Kilbane had an interest in her. "To let you go before our agreed date means I lose. I hate losing."

"So I gathered." She stepped close to him, close enough for him to memorize the freckles on her cheeks. He'd never noticed them before, and it intrigued him. "You are so childish!"

He leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her nose, enjoying the way her eyes darkened with the intent to kill as he quickly backed out of her reach. "I may be childish, but it's your fault for being so much fun to have around." He smiled with a purpose, enjoying the effect it had on her.

"H-how in the hell am I fun to have around?" Her fists balled up at her sides, but she didn't dare come after him. He loved that, violently afraid of him.

He ignored her question and lazily made his way to the stairs, needing to bathe and change clothes. Today would be a good day for him after all.

Chapter Text

It was nearly mid-afternoon when Denitra heard Jamien's phone go off upstairs. She had stayed downstairs away from him and watched TV. He'd never come back down after taking a shower. The silence and separation suited her just fine. The ringing cut off, and she heard him talking, just above a whisper.

"Denitra!"

It made her jump, sending popcorn flying everywhere. She cursed and began to clean it up. "What?"

"Shoes on. Let's go."

Her head snapped up, and she looked towards the stairs but didn't see him. "Where are we going?"

"Professor Genki's studio." The voice came from directly behind her. She jumped again, this time losing all of her popcorn.

"For fuck's sake, can you stop sneaking up on me?!" She stood and faced him, grateful the couch was between them.

He shrugged with a teasing smile. "I can try but I make no promises. Shoes on."

"Who the hell is Professor Genki?" She didn't move; she'd have to pass by him to get her shoes that sat neatly at the base of the stairs on the other end of the couch.

He just stared at her, mouth dropped open. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

She slowly shook her head. He recovered and shook his head in disbelief. "Okay." He checked his watched. "It's on now." He came around the couch and she panicked, feeling trapped, before she climbed over the couch to stand where he had been. He raised an eyebrow at her. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." She hoped her voice sounded steadier than she felt. Feeling his lips press against her nose earlier had reminded her of what she'd forgotten. He'd kissed her right before she'd fallen asleep. The knowledge of it alone had her stomach twisted in knots. She tried to tell herself it was normal to be attracted to someone as attractive as he was, but her heart knew it was something much more than that. Lust alone didn't make a person cry over someone. Lust alone didn't make a person care about someone's happiness. Lust didn't make a person accept someone as they were, flaws and all.

She shut her eyes tightly. She'd wondered what a kiss from him would feel like, and she now knew. And it wasn't something she'd forget soon, if ever. It was times like this that she hated that she wore her heart on her sleeve. It left her vulnerable.

"You okay over there, tiger?"

She looked at him. His eyes were bright with concern. His lips...

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

"Dee?" He started towards her.

"No!" She held out her hand, signaling for him to stop. "I'm fine. Just...distracted. I'm putting my shoes on now, see?" She held up a foot for him to see. "I'm ready to go. We can go." She all but ran over to the elevators and hit the call button. She could only hope she wouldn't make a complete fool of herself before the day was over.

In the few days that Denitra had been in Steelport, she'd gotten used to the weather and was now almost able to predict it. Sunshine. Cloudy. Rain. Sunshine. Cloudy. Rain. It was cloudy now, with darker clouds on the way. "I've never heard of this show before." Denitra murmured as Jamien parked the car.

"I can't see how you haven't. There's billboards all over the damn place." He took the keys out of the ignition and looked over at her. She felt him assess her with his eyes and knew he was still thinking about how she'd acted earlier. "Dee-"

"Is Pierce here yet? You said I would sit with him right? Do they have a concession stand or something? I'd like a soda or water-"

His hand covered hers, stopping her from opening her door and getting out. "Talk to me for a sec. What's wrong?"

She hoped her face gave nothing away as she turned to give him a small smile. "The last time I went somewhere with you, I got shot at. I'm a little nervous, sorry."

"Bullshit." His eyes darkened and there was no humor in his smile. "You've been antsy since I kissed your nose. You have something against being kissed on the nose?"

She looked away, frowning. "No." She remembered how angry she'd been when he did that and embraced the fresh wave of violence that washed over her. Anger could be used to drown everything else out. "I have something against being held against my will for no real reason other than you need to go get yourself a fucking dog."

He smiled, seeing right through her. "You're still upset about that?" He leaned closer and captured a few strands of her hair around his fingers. "Or are you still thinking about my lips on yours?"

She'd known it was a wasted effort to hope he wouldn't bring it up before she died. "W-what?"

He laughed abruptly, loud and rich. "You should see your face!" He kept laughing, even slapping the steering wheel as he wheezed. "You must have had awesome dreams last night after that. Did you?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Did we have some exceptionally pleasing relations?"

She covered her face, thoroughly embarrassed. "Please shut up."

"Oh, hell no. I want to know what you thought about it. You fell asleep with a smile on your face. I know you liked it."

She'd had enough. She pushed the door open and got out, yanking away from Jamien's hold and hurting her wrist. The man had a grip of steel. "Fat-headed, arrogant, pushy, childish bastard!" She slammed the door shut and kicked it for good measure before turning around and running into a solid wall of cologne-drenched human. "What the-"

"Hey, Denitra." Pierce smiled down at her. He held a carrier with two cups and a bag of food. "I stopped at a burger place around the corner and got us something to eat. The food in there sucks ass."

She allowed herself to smile and be kind to him. "Thanks." She took one cup, and he threw the carrier on the ground.

"Also, I got you a jacket, in case something happens and we get separated." He held up a purple leather Saints letterman jacket. Any other time, she'd told him to stuff the damn thing up his ass and have fun shitting it out. She knew he probably hadn't thought it would offend her. He cared more about her safety, which touched her heart.

"Thanks." She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss on his cheek.

"Okay, lovebirds." Jamien pushed in between them, heading towards the entrance for contestants. "If you're done playing catch up, can we go inside now?"

She could only watch the man barrel his way inside. "What the fuck's his problem?"

Pierce aimed a heated look at her then it softened with a friendly smile. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" She looked at him, true innocence ruling her expression.

He shook his head and laughed. "Oh, man. You two kill me." He patted her shoulder then gently pushed her towards the door.

"Know what, Pierce?"

"You'll figure out soon enough. Both of you will."

Before they got to the door, the loud, energetic chants of the audience could be heard. "Genki! Genki! Genki!" It sounded like the crowd of a sports stadium. Pierce handed two tickets to the men at the door and was directed to go to their left. Denitra didn't know what to think of the place. The walls were made of solid concrete that had red paint slowly peeling off of it. The tile under their feet was a kaleidoscope of colors that she found rather endearing though she was sure Jamien considered it to be panda vomit or something else just as disgusting. The inside was nothing like she'd thought it would be. The contestants, Jamien in particular, were nowhere to be found. In fact, there was no arena like Jamien had described. There were rows of seats like those found in a movie theater, complete with cup holders. Down in front, there was a table with two microphones, similar to what announcers used at wrestling matches. In front of everything, along the opposite wall, was a huge screen that was currently displaying the contestants, in some room loading pistols of different sorts. Jamien leaned against one wall, a KA-1 Kobra in each hand that he alternately spun using his trigger fingers. His opponents were leering at him, none too pleased with the careless handling of his weapons. It seemed to please him that he had them a little rattled.

"Wait, what do they need guns for?" Denitra looked at Pierce who passed by her to lead the way to their seats.

"You don't know? You've never watched Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax?" He waited until she shook her head. "It's like a laser tag game show. You go through shooting at targets, mascots, and if they have them like they do this time, other competitors."

"No one gets hurt, right?" She watched him plop down happily in his seat. "Right?"

"What the hell are you talking about, girl? Would he do this if no one did? Hell, they use live rounds every show!"

Her knees went weak, and she fell down into her chair, staring up at the screen in front of them as Jamien waved at the camera. "Live rounds?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. He's the best at what he does. And he has fun doing it. Just sit back and enjoy, okay?"

She tried to swallow the knot of nerves that was suddenly in her throat. Enjoy. Right. She'd enjoy this just as much as she would enjoy a trip to the gynecologist.

"Welcome, once again, to Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax!" The voice boomed over the noise of the audience, instantly producing cheers and whistles. "I'm your host Zack-"

"And I'm Bobby."

"Tonight's show is sure to be bloody and satisfying. The winners from this season have all gathered to have a battle royale-Genki Style! The last one standing will get a million dollars in cold, hard cash."

"There's a lot a person could do with a million dollars, Zack."

"Like buy sex dolls, condoms, and lube?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of cars, clothes, and hookers but, sure, whatever floats your boat. Let's get the carnage started!"

On cue, the lights dimmed as the show's theme music filled the theater. "Now to release the competitors!" The screen suddenly split into two then one of the images split into fours, each focused on a contestant with the biggest one showing Jamien. Denitra could recognize one of the other contestants as a Morningstar gang member and, judging by the green and neon blue outfits, there was also a Decker and Luchadore competing. The last guy looked like an ex-cop. The five of them faced their doors to the arena and waited, guns in hand.

"One, two, three, GO!" The crowd shouted, and the doors parted, allowing the contestants to storm the arena.

"The first one to eliminate the other four opponents, earn $5,000 in mascot kills, and reach the center of the arena wins it all!"

"UNETHICAL!" A cartoonish voice shouted as the ex-cop shot a panda target.

"Ooh! That's not a great way to start off."

"You said it, Zack. This guy's up against expert marksmen-"

"And women."

"-not to mention the Leader of the Third Street Saints from Stilwater. There's no point in taking out the other players if you don't have the money points to unlock the door that leads to the center of the arena."

"Survival, Bobby. Anyone worth shit doesn't want to die at the hands of a coked out mascot, much less receive a well-aimed bullet to the eye."

Denitra had to admit, Jamien was doing very well. She thought she'd get upset that he was so carelessly gunning down people dressed as bunnies and bears, but it never fully came. If anything, she got upset that those same mascots were allowed to carry better weapons than Jamien's.

"CASH IN POCKET!" Professor Genki, whose annoying voice she recognized, shouted out as Jamien shot a money target. Already, he was over half his money target.

The action was so fast-paced that Denitra nearly missed the realization that there were only three opponents-no, two-left and they were both close to reaching the center. Jamien had reached his goal but the Decker specialist was straggling behind by $500. Despite being ahead, it didn't stop Jamien from taking his time and toying with the mascots he crossed.

"The Leader of the Saints is really getting a kick out of this."

"I think 'kick' is an understatement, Zack. He's all but foxtrotting with the mascots out there! I wonder if what he's doing qualifies as animal abuse?"

"Ohhh! By the looks of that mascot's twisted neck, I would say so. You know, Bobby, an interesting tidbit I've heard today is that the Leader of the Saints is actually seeing someone."

Denitra tilted her head to the side, losing her focus on Jamien to listen to what the announcers were now saying. Was he dating someone for real? If so, who?

"Really? I'll bet it's some hot supermodel or actress who loves bad boys."

Jamien was nearly at the end. All he had to do was turn the corner, eliminate the Decker then run past her to the end and win it all. Denitra sat forward in her seat, anxious for him to win.

"Actually, no. Would you believe it's the daughter of the Mayor of Stilwater, Denitra Fuller? She's as goody two shoes as you can get, attending coll-"

Suddenly, her face was on the screen, in one of the empty places of a fallen opponent. It was good to know that she looked as shocked as she felt. Dating? Jamien? Her? Nooooo.

She turned to Pierce. "What the hell-"

He already had a phone to his ear. "I'm on it." He assured her and whispered angrily to whoever was on the other end. She looked back at the screen and gasped in shock, covering her mouth to keep from screaming.

Jamien was hiding around the corner where she'd last seen him, pressing his hand to his thigh where blood was quickly soaking through his jeans. But how? He'd been ready just a second ago-

The realization struck her heart like lightning. He could hear the announcers. He'd gotten distracted and had been shot. The urge to bite her nails and pace was almost unbearable. He sat there for what seemed like forever, almost long enough to make her believe that he'd either lost consciousness or died. For the second time since he'd jumped off of a skyscraper with her, she'd actually hoped that the pushy little bastard would live to see another day.

The Decker slowly made her way to him, both pistols out and ready. To Denitra, there wasn't a way for him to make it out of there. Not alive, anyway. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to fall. She couldn't take it; the suspense was killing her. She sucked in air and held it. The second the Decker's barrels turned towards Jamien, he dove at her legs, knocking her backward. Shots rang out and bullets ricocheted off the walls. They both struggled for a moment, wrestling wildly for survival until Jamien got his hands around the girl's head and gave it a quick twist. Her body went still in his arms.

Denitra nearly went deaf as the crowd roared with excitement. She slumped back in her chair, relieved yet wound up, and released the breath she'd been holding. This was so far outside her comfort zone she could barely cope. 'And he does this kind of thing on a daily basis?'

"And it's over!"

"Victory goes to the Leader of the Saints!"

She shook her head and got up, leaving Pierce behind. Outside, the rain was nothing more than a gentle mist. She found Jamien's car and leaned up against it, face tilted up towards the sky to allow tiny cool droplets to hit her fully. Her heart and mind were in turmoil, at war with each other over him.

"The jacket only helps if you get lost in a crowd, not run away from it." Pierce sounded miffed. She tried to look apologetic without having to say it. Thankfully, his frown watered down a bit. "What's up?"

"I'm confused." She answered honestly. "Should I be upset that someone would assume we're dating or should I be upset that he nearly got killed because of it?"

Pierce gave her a small smile and leaned against the car next to her. "Depends. Would you date him?"

She considered it for a second and closed her eyes. Honesty sucked. "Yeah, if the-"

He shook his head. "No ifs. Yes or no."

"...I don't know."

"Okay, then do you care about him, would it bother you if he got hurt because of you?"

"Yes." She answered automatically, more sure of that than anything else.

"Then it's simple. You're upset that he nearly died because someone mentioned your name at the wrong time."

She nodded, confident in his judgment, in his words. "He shouldn't have been in that position in the first place. This game show is-"

"Something that makes him happy." Pierce turned towards her. "Look, I know how much violence bothers you and I even understand why, but don't take tonight away from him, okay? This is more of a warning than anything else. A million dollars is a lot when you consider what he's gonna do with it."

"Put it in the charity fund?"

That stopped him. "He told you?"

She shrugged. "He's told me a few things here and there."

"Okay, then. All I'm asking is that you don't go bitch at him about what's morally right and wrong. That's Shaundi's job and the last thing he needs is another version of her chasing him around. Allow him to enjoy this win. Stand on your soap box tomorrow."

She considered his words for a moment. "Okay."

Chapter Text

Earning a million dollars doing what he knew best and enjoyed doing the most put Jamien in a partying mood, which was how Pierce and Zimos had talked him into going back to the HQ with them instead of going back to Safeword. As soon as he stepped off of the elevator and saw that the place was filled with Saints, strippers, and hoes, he couldn't help but grin and let out a loud cheer. Everyone immediately answered with a cheer of their own and the party began in earnest. The lights dimmed as neon purple ones cut on. Glow sticks were passed around along with drinks and blunts. The music was turned up as louder as bodies gravitated towards each other.

He noticed Candi making her way towards him another girl equally easy on the eyes and turned towards Denitra. "Why don't you go have fun? Mingle a little bit?"

If she had seen Candi, she didn't let on. She only nodded and turned on her heel, then headed towards the kitchen. For a moment, he considered going after her.

"Hey." Candi's voice was seductive, like something lacy sliding across his skin. "Surprised to see you here."

His arm slid around her waist and he anchored her to him. "I felt like partying." He pulled her friend close to him. "You two enjoying yourselves?"

Candi all but purred, leaning her head on his shoulder as she pawed at his chest. "Not yet, but hopefully you'll change that by the end of the night." She giggled as she leaned even closer and caught his earlobe in between his teeth.

It felt wrong.

Automatically, he pulled away from them both. Candi's rose-colored lips parted to ask him a question but someone called him. He turned around fully to find Pierce and Shaundi sitting in the living area of the massive penthouse, both waving him over. "Ah, I thought I heard someone calling me. If you'll excuse me." He tried to give them his trademark smile that melted hearts but found it this side of impossible. It felt wrong to give anyone that smile but her. Maybe it was because no one would react like she did.

"Yo, Boss!" Pierce smiled as he stood to hand Jamien a drink. "Here's to the baddest mothafucker in Steelport!"

Jamien nodded his head appreciatively and held up his drink.

Shaundi reluctantly touched her martini glass to theirs. "I heard you did fucking awesome. Congrats."

Jamien knew how hard it'd been for her to say something nice to him after what happened that morning. "Thanks, Shaun." He sipped his drink. "So, why did you let it 'slip' that Denitra's with me?"

"Who doesn't know?" She gave him a half-assed innocent look.

"That shit's irrelevant. You purposely went out and told someone, who you knew would tell the fucking world, that she's with me. And you didn't even bother to make sure they had their facts straight, you just let them think what they wanted."

"If you're gonna be with her, then be with her."

Jamien bit down on his bottom lip until it hurt enough to possibly be bleeding. "You keep stepping on my toes, girl. Eventually, you're gonna find my foot so far up your ass, I'll be able to flick your tonsils out with my fucking big toe."

"Then just let her go home, Boss! We have shit to do."

Jamien looked at Pierce and gestured towards Shaundi. "Do something before we have to replace her ass, man!"

Pierce nodded his head once and sipped from his drink. "I think we should keep her."

"What?!" Shaundi's screech almost drowned out the music. Almost.

Pierce held up his hands in surrender. "Hear me out. Boss is using Mayor Fuller to help us weed out the Syndicate back home. Boss says a Morningstar pimp was trying to hand her over to Killbane, so I'm willing to bet if he got his hands on her he'd try to do the same thing we're doing. Even you agreed that using her was a good idea, but if we let her go and Killbane gets his hands on her, we lose our hold over the Mayor." Pierce lowered his voice. "Johnny fought hard with us to get the hold we have over Stilwater. To let the Syndicate of all people take that away from us..."

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between the three of them.

Shaundi sat back in her seat on the suede couch, unhappy. "Fine. Then put her up in my ex's apartment over in Brickston. That way we still have her but she's not under you, distracting you."

"Do you really think she's that bad of a distraction?" Jamien asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Or do you just not like another girl around me?"

"No." She gave him a hard look. "I'm concerned for your fucking safety, Boss. This is the first time since we took down the gangs and Ultor back home that you've been under constant fire. I'm not saying you've lost your touch, but you have become more careless, more easygoing."

"Do you think you could do a better job?" He challenged.

She paled. "N-no. I'm trying to say that when you were a hardass, it kept you on your toes, kept you from being killed because you didn't let anything distract you from what the fuck you were trying to do! She's a distraction. She jeopardizes everything you've ever done and worked for just because she's there. Put some distance between the two of you." She stopped, considering what she wanted to say next, then went for broke. "By getting close to her and keeping her close, you're only putting her life in danger... That's something Johnny never got over with Aisha."

"It sounds like you don't think I could keep her safe." Jamien narrowed his eyes.

Her expression was apologetic and filled with sorrow. "You know that's not what I think, or what I'm saying. I'm saying Johnny believed Aisha would never get hurt, too. That he'd always be there to keep her safe."

A lump formed in Jamien's throat at the thought of Denitra suffering the same fate Aisha had.

"I agree with Shaundi, man." Pierce leveled a look at him. "But it doesn't really matter if you don't care about her personally, right?"

Suddenly, Denitra's sleeping face came to mind, lips twisted in a lazy smile after he'd pressed his lips to hers. He still didn't know why he'd done it. But it was all too easy to picture that smile gone, blood trickling from her lips, and know that those beautiful brown eyes could never open again. Because of him.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She meant something to him. What exactly, he wasn't sure just yet, but now that he realized that he considered her to be his, he'd never let her go and didn't have to play nice with her anymore.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt." The smell of baby lotion tickled his nose.

He didn't bother to turn around to look at her. "What's up?" Pierce gave her one of his trademark friendly smiles.

"Oh. Well," he couldn't identify the emotion in her voice, "I was gonna offer him a drink. I'll take it back-"

He stood up, took one of the drinks she held, then grabbed her wrist and started for the stairs.

"W-wait a minute!"

He didn't wait. Couldn't wait. He all but dragged her upstairs to the bedroom, solely because it was soundproof. He gave her a gentle push inside and closed the door behind them. He didn't bother to lock it since there were other doors that lead to the terrace that surrounded the upper level of the penthouse. He instantly felt better, calmer. "So," he slowly made his way over to the bed, tossed the drink back, then laid down, "what did you think of the show?"

"I hated it."

He laughed. "I thought you did."

"Did you get shot because of what the announcers said? About us?"

He rolled over onto his side so he could see her better. "I was shocked that they knew your name and who you were. Now it's public knowledge." He shrugged a shoulder.

"I can't believe you got hurt because of me." Her voice was sad and small.

"I didn't get hurt because of you. I got hurt because-" 'I got distracted.' Ugh. Shaundi was right. He'd rather amputate a limb before ever admitting that. "I got hurt because I slipped."

She didn't buy that, and he wasn't surprised that she didn't. She'd been around him long enough to know that he was much better than that. "Sure."

"Did I scare you?" He grinned and enjoyed the blush that colored her cheeks. "Did you worry about me?"

She turned her head. "Why does it matter?"

He froze, speechless. For once, she'd been able to knock the ball back into his court, and he had no idea what to do with it. "Um, I was just asking."

A slow, triumphant smile curved her lips. "Don't tell me it actually matters to you if I did. Is that it? You wanted me to be gripped with fear on the edge of my seat, praying like hell that nothing happened to you because I just wouldn't be able to live without you." She delicately put the back of her hand to her forehead and dipped her head back with an exaggerated sigh. She fluttered her eyelashes. "I would just die."

He rolled over and sat up. "You don't have to be mean about it." He allowed himself to pout.

Her jaw dropped. "Are you serious? The one time I give you shit and you pull out a pout?"

He nodded, enjoying himself. "I'm the guy. I'm supposed to be a dick and you're supposed to be the polite and mature one. I can't take what I dish out."

She opened her mouth then closed it and seemed to consider it. "Point taken."

"What was your first kiss like?"

He knew the question would catch her off guard and had enough patience to wait for her to recover. She cleared her throat and sipped her drink. "Um, awkward. I wasn't ready for it. He kinda just... Did it. So it was sloppy."

Before she could ask why he hit her with another one. "Have you ever fallen in love with someone? What was it like?"

Her eyes widened. "Yeah, it was brief."

Well, she was just a fountain of details. He frowned. "Why did you break up?"

"We didn't. We were never together. Why do you wa-"

"Just curious. Is it more difficult for you to look into someone's eyes and tell them you like them or to look into someone's eyes and tell them you don't have feelings for them?"

"Depends. Either way, do I really like them or not?"

"Either way, you do."

She thought about it, leaning back against the couch. "Hm. I think I'd have a harder time pretending I didn't. I have a hard time hiding my feelings. I simply...react."

"What's more-"

The door opened suddenly, and a guy stumbled in with a giggling stripper. Immediately, the two of them faced the barrel of Jamien's pistol. "Whoa, wait-"

"Get the fuck out or figure out how to live life with a hole in your face." The door slammed shut, and they were left alone again. "As I was saying, what's more important to you, commitment or companionship?"

"Commitment, because with commitment you earn trust, which is a great foundation for companionship."

He nodded, appreciating that she was simply answering him without questioning him. He got up and pulled her over to the bed, then laid down with her facing him. "Do you believe in soul mates?"

She swallowed hard, unable to take her eyes off of him. "Very much so."

Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper, the way it did whenever she looked into his eyes for much too long. "What is one thing you can't live without?"

"Music."

"What is your biggest fear?"

"Not being stable, able to take care of myself. I don't want to be dependent."

His fingers found a few strands of her hair. "Do you believe in-" The door opened again and this time he didn't bother to look at the intruders but kept his gun trained on them. He didn't put it down until he heard the door close again.

"Can't you just say get out instead of scaring the piss and buzz out of everyone who wanders up here? You're wasting alcohol." Denitra rolled her eyes.

"I'm busy. I hate being interrupted." He pushed her hair away from her face. "So, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I can't help but believe." She looked away. "I'm a hopeless romantic."

"What's wrong with that?" He touched her cheek to get her to look at him.

"What isn't wrong with it? You wear your heart on your sleeve. You hope for the best out of every situation, every relationship, with no real objection. You get hurt."

He didn't want her to get upset. "What do you look for in a person you're in a relationship with?"

"I like a good sense of humor. Hm, goal oriented. Family oriented, hardworking, romantic, smart, big on morals, spontaneous. Someone who I have a great friendship with as a foundation."

He thought about it and smiled. "So the only things I lack is being family oriented and a conscience?"

She laughed, open and free. It slid down his spine like silk, making him smile even wider. "There's no way a family could fit anywhere in your tight, violent schedule. Or a conscience, for that matter. And I don't normally wish to kill my friends."

He pouted. "You're being mean again!" He leaned over and buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply before pulling away before she could push him away. "I could work on the conscience, at least. And the friendship."

"You could, but why would you?" She was suddenly breathless.

'For you.' The thought made him choke on his words, bad enough to make him cough. "So, um, does your first love still hold a special place in your heart?"

"Yep." She answered, slightly distracted by how close he'd been.

"How did your last relationship end?"

"Cheated on me. Enough said."

"Oh. Well, do you forgive and forget easily?"

"Eh, I forget easier than I forgive."

"If you had to live with someone who truly loves you but you don't love back, or to live alone for the rest of your life loving someone who doesn't love you, who would you choose?"

She was quiet for a long time before she spoke softly. "I think I'd try to live with the person who loved me. Over time, I could learn to love them, too. I'd rather try to change how I feel rather than wait for someone else to change."

"What is the most important thing in a relationship?"

"Consistency, with it love can't be lost."

"Could you see yourself with me, in a relationship?" Just like he'd thought, the rapid questioning made it easier to ask her, to get the most important question of all out there.

She looked at him, eyes wide with alarm before narrowing. "You're very funny."

"I'm also very serious." He hoped she'd be able to look at him and tell.

"No, you're-" His hand found hers and pressed her fingertips to his lips. She snatched her hand away and jumped up, putting distance between them. "No, you're just joking, making fun of me."

He sat up slowly. She was reacting like a caged animal and the last thing he wanted her to do was bolt before he was done with her. "Do I look like I'm joking, Dee? Like I'm making fun of you?"

Her expression changed from skeptical to pained. "Don't do this. I just told you-" She broke off, took a deep calming breath. "I've thought of it before, more than once. But I'm not sure I could fit in your life, not without changing you or myself. And I don't think you could ever fit in mine with me and be completely happy. So, no. I don't see myself with you in a relationship."

"That doesn't sound like a hopeless romantic. You're supposed to be all for it." He moved across the room towards her, backing her up to the wall and putting a hand over her shoulder. He leaned in and heard her suck in air. "You're supposed to say 'opposites attract' and convince me it could work out."

She swallowed hard and pressed herself firmly against the wall, determined not to let his body touch hers. "Normally, I would say that, but we're so different that even I'm doubtful." She let out a quiet hiss when his hand found her cheek.

He smiled. Didn't she know that there were few men alive who didn't enjoy the chase? He allowed his thumb to stroke the soft skin underneath it. "I don't know, Dee." His thumb found her lips and traced them, enjoying the silky texture. "I think we could do it if we really tried."

Chapter Text

When Denitra finally regained consciousness, it didn't come quietly. Even though her eyes were clamped shut, she knew the sun was up and probably had been for a while. Her head pounded, and she resisted the urge to pull her pillow over her head. She deserved a killer hangover after last night. She'd been so relieved that Jamien had left her alone after telling her he thought they could make a relationship work.

A relationship.

Him and her.

Her insides tingled at the thought and she struggled to make it go away. Any other time, she'd allow herself to hope, to fantasize about the possibilities. But not this time, not when she'd seen with her own eyes how he'd lost focus when it mattered the most. He may like to play a superhero, but he was as human as she was. She was honestly afraid that he would get seriously hurt just attempting to allow himself to get close to her.

"How's your head?"

She groaned automatically and caved in, seeking shelter under the cool darkness of her pillow. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah. Enough to be functional."

"Lucky bastard."

She felt his chuckle shake the bed a bit. "You should have another shot of tequila. It helps to bite the snake that bit you."

"I shouldn't have drunk that much in the first place."

He gave a small shrug. "It seemed like you were trying to take your mind off of something. Challenging people to take shots is certainly one way to do it."

She took a peek out from under the pillow. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a pensive look. "There's a thousand and one different reasons a person drinks that much, Jay."

He raised an eyebrow as a ghost of a smile curved his lips. "Yeah, but it's different when you actually tell me why you drank so much."

"I did?"

He nodded, his smile exploding into a full grin. "Apparently what I said to you bothers you a little bit."

She felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Oh, jeez. I-I was drunk and... It was a lot to take in and think about and I didn't really..." She stopped herself and took a deep breath, determined to switch gears and move on. "Anyway, did you get any sleep?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I did." There wasn't a hair out of place on his head, so Denitra immediately suspected he could have been lying. "But I had trouble sleeping, had a lot on my mind. I wanted to be awake when you woke up so I could talk to you."

"About what?" She sat up, half turned towards him.

The look he gave her made her instantly regret opening the floor for him. "You know damn well what about."

"Jay, don't do this." She turned away, intent on running to the bathroom for solace, but his hand caught her arm and anchored her to the bed.

"If I can't 'do this' now, when would you prefer I do it?"

She licked her dry lips, swallowed hard, then whispered, "Never."

His chuckle held very little humor. "Like hell, woman." He yanked her down hard to his side and held her to him by her waist. He allowed her to struggle until she got tired then loosened his hold. She had a snowball's chance in hell of being able to resist him and his crazy ideas like this.

"Jamien, please, let me up." She squirmed a bit more. "This is uncomfortable and I really need to use the bathroom."

"Tough shit. I have something I've been practicing saying since I dumped your ass in this bed. You're gonna hear me out. Understand?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. The air conditioner cut on, blowing cool air over her heated skin. She was drowning in his intoxicating scent; never before last night had mint and cigarette smoke been so appealing. She'd woken up snug against him before but now it lit a fire deep inside of her. One she desperately wanted to put out before it could leave any lasting, irreparable damage. No matter what he had to say, she knew he didn't see the whole picture like she did. He didn't understand fully everything that was at stake. She was fighting a losing battle...

He took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "The more I think about it, the more reality sets in that things aren't the way they were in the beginning. I mean, at first, this was just a game, just a way of pissing off Shaundi. But then, Pierce told me what you said to him. At the time, I didn't give it a second thought. I mean, so you think I'm cute or whatever, big fucking whoop. Who doesn't? I mean, looking back, it affected the way I treated you. As much time as I spent giving Shaundi hell, I was doing the same to you, flirting and shit. I'll be honest with you, Dee. I have no intention of letting you go anymore."

"What the fuck?" She pushed at him and tried to get out of his hold, failing miserably all around. "You fucking promised!"

"I know that!" He shook her a little then lowered his voice. "I know that, okay?" He shook his head and exhaled sharply as he covered his eyes with his right forearm. "I'm fucking up. What I wanted to say isn't coming out as I'd planned." He chuckled. "You're making me nervous." He turned his head and looked at her, sadness in his eyes. "Please, can you close your eyes and just listen? You staring at me isn't helping me at all right now."

"I'm not gonna acco-"

"Please, Dee, for me? Just this once?"

The frustration and desperation in his voice made her shut up and close her eyes. She waited patiently for him to continue, but instead she felt him move her free hand to his chest and hold it there, gently stroking her palm with his thumb. "Someone asked me if I cared about you, not just as a pawn in my plans for world domination, but personally. I thought I knew the answer until I pictured you hurt, dead because of me, and it changed the way I looked at you. It made me wanna go against everything I've ever said. I made fun of Johnny for his relationship with Aisha, told him it made him soft. Here I am now feeling the same way for you. I love having you around me, with me. And when we're apart, I think of you.

I wonder what goes through your mind when I talk to you. I wonder what makes you stare into my eyes. What do you see that makes it hard for you to look away? I know that you don't like the Saints and that you probably wish to go home every day, but when I see you smile, I wonder if I could change that, make you want to stay and never again think of leaving. I wonder if you could want to be here, to be with me. I mean, I know you push me away because I'm a Saint, but is that the only reason? Or could it also be that we don't fit in each other's lives? Yours is filled with peace and sunshine and mine is nothing but violence and angry mascots. So maybe a real relationship is out of the question, but what about being friends at least? Start out slow and see what happens. We could help each other. If you really want to intern at a hospital while you go to school, we have a hospital on our payroll. You could intern there and help treat those of us that get hurt. Hell, I could even guarantee you a spot as an EMT when you graduate. Unless you plan to go back to Stilwater. Then I could pull some strings there. But you'd have to be comfortable around us, not hate our guts just for breathing.

You're so down-to-earth, so free, that I wanna be, too. I wanna keep you around, if you wanna be around. I think I could live with being friends- Who the fuck am I kidding? Dee, I'm not blind. I know you find me at least a little bit attractive, if the way you stare at my lips and eyes when I talk is any kind of indication. I notice the way you hold your breath when I'm too close, when I touch you. I think that if I wasn't a Saint, you'd have come on to me by now. But, damn it, if you opened up to me, gave me a chance, you'd see that I could be everything you'd ever need. Those dreams you have about me could be real. I'm not gonna pretend that I'm psychic and say that we'd be together forever and ever, but I'd damn sure try. Fuck, I haven't even looked at another girl since I came across you. I haven't even thought about strippers and hoes since I got in the car with you. And I don't want to.

If you'd give me the chance, give us the chance, I could make you happy and that would make me happy. I'd give you everything you want and need. I can't say I won't get mad, that I won't fuck up, won't piss you off. That would be lying and of all the people I'm comfortable lying to, you'll never be one of them. I'd rather piss you off than lie to you. I really, really...like you, Dee. And I hope you feel the same."

He waited, and she was grateful for it as she needed a minute to form a response.

"First off, I want to say you are too damn full of yourself. I do not dream of you."

"You talk in your sleep." He said simply, eyes sparkling with laughter. Her jaw dropped open in shock and out the window went her rebuttal. "As I said, you can't deny it. I've accepted it. So, where do we go from here?"

It was near impossible for her not to just accept his words, fling her arms around him, and let the chips fall where they may. She couldn't, not if she wanted him to live. "Jay... I can't."

His head pivoted. His eyes seemed to pick her apart. "So, what's his name and address? I'll send him his relationship pink slip for you. No worries."

"I'm not seeing anyone." She whispered.

He turned over onto his side and pulled her flush against him, pressing his lips to her forehead for a second before wrapping both of his arms around her. "Okay, I can deal. I'm down for the challenge. Turning a lesbian on to men can't be too hard, right? Though, I'm not sure I can share you during your transition-"

"I'm not a lesbian, Jay."

"A guy can dream." He leaned back and looked into her eyes. "Then what's the problem?"

She opened her mouth to explain but found those eyes of his trying to unlock her heart. Without thinking about it, her hand shot up and covered them, giving her back her ability to speak.

He smiled. "Better?"

"Yes." She sighed. "Seeing you get shot because my name was mentioned when you needed your focus the most really, really scared me. It really hurt me. You may give me hell every second of every day, but I would never want to see you hurt. You know that. You're human, despite whatever the hell you think, and you can die. I don't think my heart could withstand the hurt of knowing you died because of me. I'm terrified that you could get hurt simply trying to be involved with me, in any way. I won't let you jeopardize your life for something that may not even last."

When she moved her hand, fear froze her. To say he looked angry was a deadly understatement. He was frigid around her, and his eyes were ice, the type that caused a person to lose limbs due to hypothermia. Being this close to him, with that look of death in his eyes, reminded her that he was more than a thug with guns in charge of a gang. He was death. "Is that the best you can come up with?" He tone was low, barely controlled rage laced with deadly venom. His arms shook around her, as if he was fighting the urge to harm her. "I give you my heart, and the best excuse you can come up with for rejecting it is that I'm too human to love?"

"I-I'm not rejecting you!" She put in quickly. "I'm just hesitant to give in and be free, Jay." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I can't help it that I care more about your safety than your happiness. That's just the order of things when you care about someone."

His arms relaxed and warmth seeped back into his vibrant eyes. A small smile curved his lips as his warm hand found her cheek and slowly made its way up into her hair. "You worry about all the wrong things, babe. I've been dodging bullets since I joined the Saints. I'm an expert at what I do. Hell, if I had a cleaner rap sheet, I could go join the Black Ops, if I liked the government." He pressed his lips to her forehead again, longer this time, and she had the distinct feeling that he wanted nothing more than to do the same thing to her lips. When he pulled away and got out of the bed, she found herself fighting the urge to call him back to her. Instead, she ran her hand over the comforter, attempting to distract herself with the satin texture. "If you're gonna pretend we can't be together, you'd better find a better excuse than that I couldn't handle it. If nothing else, I'd be even more careful, because I'd have someone worth living for." He looked at her over his shoulder, and she melted on the spot from the tender heat in his gaze.

He stretched then turned to face her fully. "Tell you what. How about you take some time and think about all of this, get used to the idea of us being together before we actually do it?"

"Jay, how do you know we'll end up together?" She asked, skeptical.

He flashed her that smile she loved so much. "Because you said it yourself. Once I figure that I want something, I move mountains and cause earthquakes to get it, right?" He leaned down and whispered, "Right now, there's nothing I want more than you in my arms, my lips on yours, and me in your heart." He stood up straight and went downstairs, leaving her reeling and fighting her heart with logic that no longer made much damn sense.

Chapter Text

The words he'd just spoken were still bouncing around in his head when she finally came downstairs. He knew he was being hard on himself. There was no such thing as finding the perfect words to say. However, seeing that look of doubt on her face made him worry a little bit, and he was sure as rain in Steelport that she could talk herself out of her feelings for him. She'd given him the excuse that she worried about his safety, but he would bet a vital organ it was much deeper than that. He just had to pick at her and find out what.

He watched her put together a bowl of cereal, inwardly laughing as she contemplated where she wanted to sit, near him or by the windows. "I won't bite you unless you want me to."

Her face scrunched up in a scowl despite the blush that colored her cheeks. "That doesn't really reassure me, you know."

He smiled and returned his divided attention to his coffee mug. One thing was nagging at him, something he hadn't thought of before his talk with her. Something he was certain would drastically affect any chances he had of being with her in the long run.

Eventually, he’d have to tell her about his involvement with the S.U. Massacre.

His fingers rubbed the smooth, hot surface of the cup as he thought out different scenarios. It was likely she'd get outrageously upset and never speak to him again. It was probable she'd attempt to kill him. There was a tiny possibility she'd succeed at doing so if he fucked up defending himself.

She sat next to him, throwing off his train of thought. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Just coffee so far." He held up the cup then settled back into his thoughts. No matter how she reacted, all bets were off if anyone but him told her the truth. He was fairly certain she'd see nothing but the worse in him for not telling her up front, especially when Pierce had given him a heads up the first night he'd forced her to stay. Worse yet, when he'd tried to go to sleep last night, he'd remembered through a dream what had happened in the gift shop during the shootout...

He hadn't been able to go back to sleep and wasn't sure if he ever wanted to again.

He reached into his cargo pants pocket and pulled out a wadded mess of wires, then placed it on the kitchen island next to her plate. She looked at it then at him. "What's this?" She gingerly picked it up.

"A music player. You said you couldn't live without music, but you haven't been listening to it since you got here." He sipped his coffee, scalding his tongue.

"I have been listening to music. I watch the music video network, turn on the radio in the bathroom when I bathe, and I always turn on the radio in the car." She shook her head and smiled. "You just don't pay attention."

He could tell her now. They were alone, and he didn't have to be anywhere yet. He tested out the critical sentence in his head. 'I was the one who started the shooting, and I was right there when she was shot.' He cringed. There was no pretty way to say it. He looked at her and, for the second time in his life, was consumed with regret. How was he ever supposed to know that by making that one decision then he would jeopardize his first real relationship? Sure, he wanted her in his life, but he wasn't the type of guy to force her to stay if she well and truly didn't want to be in it.

Fuck it. He had to bite the bullet and just deal with the consequences.

"Denitra, I ha-"

"What you said earlier Jay was really beautiful." She spoke quietly, not looking up from her bowl. "And I think you have a point, about needing a better excuse as to why I think we can't be in a relationship. I don't know exactly what's holding me back, but I promise you I'm working on finding out." She looked up and gave him a small smile, holding out her pinky for him. "I pinky swear."

He hooked his pinky around hers and gave it a little squeeze. He realized that this was one of the many reasons he liked her. Pinky promises. Who does that anymore? "I'm holding you to that."

Her smile seemed to brighten. "I know. I won't disappoint you."

He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk losing that smile, those trusting eyes. She got up and went to the sink to rinse off her bowl and spoon. He didn't want to lose her. Maybe it was possible she would never find out? And if she ever did, would she be more forgiving if they'd been together long enough? She'd called herself a hopeless romantic. Could she possibly love him enough to forgive him and move on?

That was it. As she turned around to face him, he understood what was holding her back from him. A smile teased his lips. He couldn't rush her in that aspect. She'd have to conquer that mountain on her own and, if she couldn't, then he really had no business trying to have any sort of relationship with her. Again, if she knew the truth, it would seriously change everything for the worse.

"What are you smiling about?" She tilted her head to the side, apprehensive.

He shook his head and stood up, pulling out his cigarettes and a lighter. "Dee, I know what we're gonna do today."

"A long night spent with your most obvious weakness. You start shaking at the thought that you are everything I want 'cause you are everything I'm not. And we lay, we lay together just not too close, too close. (How close is close enough?)"

Jamien was more than surprised she knew the song and the words. Apparently, she hadn't been kidding when she said she couldn't live without music. But then again, Gen X had played the song so much back in Stilwater that everyone there should know it by heart. He pulled into the local Rim Jobs and they both got out of the car. The smell of car paint and oil was pungent. Grease-covered workers shuffled about, trying to look busy as the owner of their location assessed the messy work area, and the sounds of various tools became deafening. Denitra had been dead set against stealing the Temptress but, after some hardcore convincing that included promising to teach her how to drive it, she warmed up to the idea and got in. Jamien loved and hated how the car drove with no modifications and was appalled the damn thing didn't come with kneecappers. Then again, what car did?

In the lobby, the two of them thumbed through the choices of modifications available for a Temptress. While he had to explain the performance choices, she was more than capable of going through the body kit options on her own. "I like this one. It makes the car look like a cat."

"Seriously? A cat?"

She nodded. "I think we should keep it black and put purple designs on it."

He had no problem with that. Most, if not all, of his cars had a black base. "Okay. I like these purple suede racing seats."

"And an eighty percent tint with chrome trim."

"You like your windows that dark? I'm shocked." Jamien smiled and nudged her with his shoulder.

She shrugged, smiling playfully. "A car like this needs a dark tint." She turned the page and found the paint and detail options. "We have to get candy paint, it'll make the purple pop. Ooh! And a custom tribal design." She paused. "Do you have a pen and a piece of paper? I have an idea."

'Of course, I have a pen and a piece of paper, I never leave home without them.' He thought sourly as he got up to bother the clerk for the materials. She smiled appreciatively as he gave them to her and used the binder they'd been looking through as a sturdy surface to write on. He watched as she moved the pen fluidly over the paper, creating an intricate design of a rose in the center that connected to delicate tribal thorned vines on the sides. He didn't see how it would go on a car until she went back and lightly sketched the outlines of a car, putting the rose on the hood and indicating that the tribal designs would fall over the front wheel wells then continue over the doors towards the back of the car. "Wow."

She smiled brightly, proud of herself and of her work. "I love it. I think we should do the rose in white, with purple highlights." She looked at him. "What do you think?"

"That looks fucking awesome." And he meant it. He took the design to the clerk and together they went back to talk to the mechanics. They tried to tell him how much it would all cost, but he waved them off, not wanting to know. She was excited about the car. It would be the first thing he'd share with her and that was all that mattered to him. It was like getting a puppy or kitten and, with the car being an exotic, it would require just about the same amount of maintenance if used on a regular basis. He could see himself teaching her how to drive it, even encouraging her to get on the freeway back to Stilwater so she could go full throttle. Maybe she'd get a rush, one so good that she'd get all hot and bothered, pull over and demand he put her on the hood and-

"Jamien!"

He jumped as she slapped his arm hard enough for it to sting. He rubbed his arm and looked down at her scowling face. "What I do?"

"I've been standing here calling your name for the longest and you're just standing there staring into space with this goofy ass grin on your face. What the hell are you thinking about?"

'If only you knew...' "Nothing. Just picturing what the car should look like so if it doesn't, I know to blow someone's head off."

She stared at him. "I can never tell if you're joking or not."

He turned away, prepared to leave. "They said it'll take them about an hour to finish everything. Then an extra thirty to speed dry the car."

"Speed dry?"

"It's a new type of paint they're using. It allows them to do more paint jobs in a business day because it cuts down on the number of cars occupying the stall just drying. They even have another kind of paint that dries even faster, but that's used for emergencies."

"How fast does that paint dry?"

"Just five minutes of driving at a high speed, like sixty miles per hour."

"Wow."

"I know." He smiled then, proud because he'd had a hand in its production. He stretched out, allowing his arm to drop around her shoulders. "So, we have an hour and a half to kill. Whatcha wanna do?"

She seemed to be surprised. "Hell, I don't know." She looked down. "I wonder if my mom's okay. You yanked her out of the car kinda hard."

He wasn't surprised she took this long to show concern about her mother. She'd been very preoccupied with her own safety and well being. It also meant that if she was allowing herself to worry about other people, she no longer considered herself in danger. He dared to believe that she felt somewhat safe with him now. He guided her out of the building to give their ears a break. It was pleasant outside, sunny with a tolerable chilly fall breeze. There was a Phuc Mi Phuc Yue a block down the street next to a bar. He grinned sinfully as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Here." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to her, guiding her towards the restaurant. "Call her."

Her eyes were wide with shock. "Do what now?"

"Call your mom. See how she's doing and let her know you're okay. Tell her you'll be in class on Monday." He put his free hand in his pocket but kept his arm around her. You never know when shit will pop off...

"I'm not gonna call my mom and tell her lies."

"Where's the lie? You are okay and you will be in class on Monday."

"I thought-"

"Stop thinking and call the damn woman, before I change my mind." He looked away. He smiled when he heard phone beep as she dialed the number. He didn't have to look at her to know there was a huge grin on her face. He figured if he could keep that grin there, then he'd never lose her.

As he'd thought, she loved the restaurant. It reminded her of home and, after she'd spent nearly the entire time on the phone, she felt better. He hated watching her cry after she'd hung up, but he convinced himself that she was just an emotional person. She just about cried over everything. He also hoped that his plan had worked. By allowing Denitra to call and chat with her mom, he was giving Mayor Fuller a show of faith in his capabilities to get the job done. If the man hadn't done as Jamien had asked him, his wife would light a fire under his ass for her baby girl.

A red and black Infuego stopped at a red light next to them and the occupants gave him a long, hard look. For a second, Jamien thought things would get dicey, but the car kept going once the light turned green. Relaxing, he allowed his hand to find hers and gripped it firmly. She looked at him, then gently tried to free her hand. He wouldn't allow her to have her cake and eat it too. Seeing he was determined to hold her hand, she gave up trying to let go. Now if only she had that mentality for everything else with him...

As promised, the car was ready when they got back. "Will you teach me to drive it now?" She asked with barely contained excitement. He didn't answer her, instead took the keys and got inside. Once she'd gotten in and buckled up, he barely tapped the gas pedal with his big toe and the car shot out of the garage. "Wow."

He laughed at her. He thought the drastic difference in the car's performance would have changed her mind, but apparently not. As she fumbled with the car's stereo, he gave some thought as to where the safest place to teach her to drive would be. The airport. Aside from the mortal danger of driving around a busy runway, it was the best place in Steelport for a beginner learning to drive stick. She didn't do too bad, either. She was very attentive during his instruction and gave it her all trying to make the car drive as he said it should. He’d have to make sure someone checked the clutch on every time she was done driving.

"Can I drive it on the road?" Denitra practically bounced in the seat, hand on the stick and feet on the clutch and brake. "Please?"

He pretended to think really, really hard about it, earning him a puppy dog pout. Though it wasn't anything spectacular, the idea that she thought it might work made him drop the act and nod his head. With a majestic roar of the engine, she took off. Jamien had to admit, he was pretty jealous. In all his years of driving like a complete lunatic with little regard for the lives of other drivers and pedestrians, never before had he seen so many people simply clear the roads and sidewalks and make way for one single car. And do it so quickly!

"You should probably slow down a little, Dee." Jamien braced himself, just in case things suddenly went wrong.

"I'm trying but the gas and brakes are so sensitive." To demonstrate her point, she barely tapped the brakes and nearly flipped the car over.

"Okay, okay. I'll take her back and have them tweak it a bit for you. I think they figured I wanted a racing car to drive like one."

"Do I have to drive around here only? These streets are congested so I have to constantly hit the brakes and shift gears." She pouted. "Can't I drive on the freeway?"

He liked this, how natural it felt to be with her doing something as simple as driving around but have it mean so much to her. "Go for it. At the next light, turn left and you'll be headed towards the freeway."

"Yes!" She cheered, then leaned across the armrest to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Warmth spread through him from head to toe, and it took a great deal of effort to keep a goofy grin off of his face. If this was what love felt like, then he was very sorry it'd taken him this long to find it.

Chapter Text

Denitra couldn't name too many things she didn't like about the exotic car. It had put both her and Jamien in such a great mood that he suggested they hit up the Broken Shillelagh for drinks. He sat across from her at a tiny private table, his chin perched on one hand as he stared at her. She held his gaze then looked down, unable to keep from smiling at this wonderful feeling he elicited from her. "I think I'm in love with an inanimate object."

He tilted his head to the side. "I know I can be mean, but damn, inanimate?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm sure you wish my every word had something to do with you."

He nodded. "I really do."

His words made her chest tingle. Denitra put her hand over her heart and pressed down, hoping like hell it would go away. "You know I meant the car, Jay."

His hand dropped to the table as the other reached across the table for hers. "Do you really?"

"Yes." She put the hand he nearly touched in her lap as the other slowly circled the rim of her margarita glass. "It's a really nice car."

He sat back, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. 'Oh, jeez...' "Make a deal with me, and it's yours."

She turned her head to the side slowly but kept her eyes trained on him. "And the deal would be...?"

His smile scared the shit out of her. "If you can last beyond Monday, you can have it."

"Last beyond Monday?"

"Our compromise. Stay longer than that, and she's yours. I'll even throw in free upkeep for you." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Free gas, too."

She froze in utter disbelief. Even though he'd stolen the car, he had to have coughed up a pretty penny for the modifications. Now here he was practically giving her a free car, minus insurance, in exchange for a few more days of her time. Something she no longer felt was a chore to do. "So, basically you want me to stay with you while I go to college?"

"I didn't say that."

"You'd just find another reason for me not to leave, Jay." She smiled. "Let me guess, are you thinking about getting a puppy or something?"

He shrugged. "I'm not a fan of things that need potty training, but hey, it's something I could try." He chuckled when he saw her skeptical expression. "I really could! They have animal trainers for a reason. So, will you take the offer? Just a reminder, that car normally goes for half a million at any luxury dealership. You could just as easily spend the rest of your life saving up your pennies for it. By then, they'll have some new fancier model you're bound to want."

"You are an evil man."

"No, but I'd make a damn good lawyer."

She nodded in agreement. "So, just so we're clear, if I stay until Tuesday morning, I get the car?"

He frowned. "That does-"

"You said past Monday. You didn't say how many days past Monday. For me, that means I can get up Tuesday morning, drive away, and never look back." She watched him slowly shut down. "Right?"

He was very tight-lipped with his answer. "Yes."

She sat back in her chair. "Then I'll take the deal. You have to understand, as a third-year med student, the university requires that I live on campus. I'd be risking expulsion to ignore that."

"I can deal with that part." He paused to sample his drink. "I can't deal with the idea of you being able to walk away from me and 'never look back'." He leaned forward suddenly and caught the hand she teased her glass with. He stared into her eyes, lightly running his thumb over the back of her hand. This close to him, she was unable to look away, unable to resist the power in his sensual, sapphire gaze. Heat rushed through her until she was sure she'd melt right there in her seat, down into her Saints sneakers. She was vaguely aware that those eyes were slowly moving closer to her, that a hand gently held her by the chin, ensuring that she'd stay still. A thumb gently traced her bottom lip and her heart began to beat faster until she was light-headed. It wasn't until she felt something graze her nose and lips that she snapped back to reality and saw that he was literally no more than an inch away from her, attempting to kiss her.

"Jay!" She shoved herself away from the table, leaning away from him.

"Almost." He gave her a naughty grin and shrugged. "I had to at least try." He stood, dropping a few bills on the table, then headed for the door. She quickly downed the remainder of her drink and followed. The car ride was quiet and uncomfortable, filled with an awkward silence that she didn't know how to deal with. He seemed to be determined to win her over. Being the head hooligan in charge of the Saints, she thought she'd be more distrusting of him, but she sensed nothing but truth in his words. That scared her. The last time she completely trusted a guy like this, she ended up with a shattered heart. She looked away from her window for a second to look at him. Of course, he was looking at her. She turned away quickly, feeling foolish.Of course, he was looking at her. She turned away quickly, feeling foolish.

"You wanna know something?" He elbowed her, the silk of his shirt sleeve tickling her bare skin.

She nodded. "Yeah?"

"I wish I would have told Johnny I was happy for him. When he was with Aisha? I always made fun of him, always teased him. Sure, I supported them, but I never actually told him I was happy that he found happiness in this fucked up world." He looked at her, and so many unspoken words hung in the air. She cleared her throat and went back to looking out her window. He was headed back towards Safeword, turning onto the freeway.

"I wish I would have told Layla that her boyfriend was a dick." She didn't dare look at Jamien. "Mike was this steroid popping, gun toting, drug slinging dickfaced gang banger who went after anything with tits and legs."

"Sounds like somebody I know."

She shook her head. "I don't think there's too many assholes like him. Whenever he came to visit her when she was at work, he'd always say something disrespectful to her and we'd end up arguing. I mean, he literally made me give some serious thought to committing murder. I always wanted to tell her to leave him, but she loved him. For her, that was enough."

"Wait." He weaved the car through traffic. "Gang banger?"

She sighed. "Samedi."

"Samedi? Her boyfriend sold drugs on campus for the Samedi?"

Denitra shrugged. "Yeah. He usually would sit in the gift shop with her and make his sales." She looked at him. He looked torn. "What? What is it?"

"Dee..." He closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto the headrest. "I was-"

A gunshot fired off, hitting the windshield and cracking it. Jamien slammed on the brakes and the car slid to a screeching stop. Denitra looked ahead of them and her blood ran cold. Across the bridge ahead of them, a wall of red and black vehicles waited patiently. Jamien slowly reached into the armrest between them and pulled out his pistol. She looked at the members of the Morningstar that waited at their cars, guns trained on their car. Just one gun would not ensure that they'd make it out of this alive. "Jamien-"

"Ssh." He held up a finger as his phone rang. "Speak fast. I just fell knee deep in shit."

"It's nothing compared to what I just heard." A woman's voice spoke with a small hint of urgency.

"Speak faster, Kinzie."

"Chief of Police just offered a reward to the Syndicate gangs: amnesty for a week."

Jamien frowned. "That explains a lot, then. You have my location?"

"When do I not?"

His eyes lingered over Denitra before focusing ahead of him. "Send backup." She heard tires squeal on the pavement behind them. More Morningstar vehicles were pulling up, most of them were Criminals carrying insanely huge muscled men. Aside from the muscle, every single one of them was carrying automatic weapons. "Huh. Things just got a little more interesting. Find Pierce, tell him to get over here with a Tornado and a few recruits on Sharks in the water, now."

"What do you need a helicopter for?"

"Now's not the time to question me, Kinzie."

"On it." The line disconnected and silence filled the car. Jamien looked at her then grabbed her hand.

"You trust me?"

Before she could answer, a voice over a loudspeaker got their attention. "All we want is the girl. We don't want to harm her, but we will shoot."

Denitra froze, unsure if she had heard what she thought she'd heard. "Did he just-"

"I told you." Jamien checked the clip in his weapon. "I said you were interesting. Now everybody wants a piece of you." He looked around them again. "Okay, so here's the deal. I have to get out of the car, or they'll shoot."

"They'll shoot you anyway!"

He nodded. "I know, I know. Now, if you get out of the car on your side, I won't be able to cover you. They may swarm the car before I can get to your side and they will take you."

"Denitra, there is a reward for your safe return. We will take you to the police station, where your parents are waiting."

Her heart melted at the thought of her mom and dad, eagerly waiting for her to walk through those doors. She thought about her bed at home, warm and safe from these dangers. She wanted nothing more than to go back to Stilwater and hide her head in the sand, to pretend that it was all just a bad dream.

Jamien opened his car door and slowly slid out, both hands in the air. Something was off. His eyes were dull, void of emotion. There was no fight in him, and she hated that. It occurred to her that he hadn't even told her what to do to help him get them out of there safely. Had he assumed that she wanted to go with his enemies? She thought of what she said earlier to him and cursed. The moron really couldn't take a joke, could he? The Morningstar gunmen took advantage of Jamien's surrender and advanced on the car. She was positive that if she went with them, Jamien would be seriously wounded, provided he survived a gunshot to the head.

'Do you care about him, would it bother you if he got hurt because of you?'

Fuck. That.

She scrambled across the seats and all but fell out of the car at Jamien's feet. Once she righted herself, she looked up at him. "You didn't give me the option to use your door, asshole."

One of his arms went around her, pulling her close. "Wasn't sure you wanted to stay."

"Fucking moron. How do we get out of this?"

He grinned. "The least violent way I know how."

"Which is?" She took another look at the number of Morningstar. "I don't even have to tell you how bad this looks."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" He pulled out his gun from behind his back and opened fire. She screamed and ducked, but he grabbed her forearm and yanked her along as he made a mad dash to the side of the bridge.

It was déjà vu all over again. Her eyes got big as her view of the river below became more visible. She wasn't sure she wanted to live that bad. "W-wait, Jay-"

"Can you swim?" He yelled over the gunfire.

She paled, frozen with fear. "Oh, please no. I-I can't-"

"Sink or swim, doll." He gave her a hard shove, and she lost her balance, falling over the railing. She wasn't sure if she screamed, as she couldn't hear over the rushing whoosh of air in her ears, but she knew that her mouth was open as she flailed uselessly. In movies, it seemed like things would slow down. In reality, it was quite the opposite. The unforgiving surface of the water rushed to meet her and hit her hard enough to make every bone in her body ache. Suddenly, she was cold, freezing and tired. She knew that she was underwater, but she didn't have the strength to kick to the surface.

Looking up at the surface of the water, she noticed the surrounding water was tinted red. Was it from her? Was she bleeding? She didn't feel any pain, and it made her wonder if someone had shot her. Was she dying?

She never thought dying like this could be peaceful.

Chapter Text

For the second day in a row, Denitra woke up feeling like shit. Her head ached slightly, but it was nothing compared to her all over body ache, her stiff shoulder. She felt like she'd gone ten rounds with a sumo wrestler and all he'd done was sit on her. She took her time getting to the bathroom and attempted to freshen up to feel better, but it did little to help. She decided breakfast would help. It wasn't long before she'd put together eggs, bacon, and toast. The smell of breakfast filled the penthouse. She split the food into two servings and waited to hear Jamien wake up. When ten minutes had passed and she didn't hear movement, she started a pot of coffee. When it was nearly done and she still hadn't heard anything, she went to check and make sure he was okay.

He was well and truly fast asleep. She almost let him sleep, but remembered that he wasn't a big fan of reheating his food. She shook him gently. "Jamien? Breakfast is-"

His hand grabbed her wrist and in one fluid motion, he yanked her down onto the soft, downy bed beside him. She gasped as pain shot through her stiff shoulder, and before she could protest, his arm fell limp and heavy onto her waist as his head found her other shoulder, and he snored softly. Unable to help herself, she maneuvered herself so she could touch his hair. She noticed a butterfly bandage on his forehead. She didn't notice it when she got up. Had she not looked at him? She couldn't really remember. She looked down at him and realized that he didn't have a shirt on, showcasing the Saints tattoo across his chest and Fleur-de-Lis tattoo on his shoulder. She couldn't remember if he'd ever told her he had tattoos, or if she'd ever seen them.

His stomach was completely wrapped in a bandage as well as his shoulder. She had almost forgotten what could have caused that kind of damage to him. However, the last thing she remembered was falling into the river, leaving him behind on the bridge to face a few dozen armed enemies. She pushed her fingers through his hair, finding his scalp and massaging it lightly. He groaned deeply and snuggled her. Her lips curved slightly, pleased with his unconscious reaction. She moved her free arm slowly until she could touch his dry, cracked lips.

"You're awake." He mumbled against her finger.

She frowned. "You sound surprised. I shouldn't be?"

His eyes remained closed, so she wasn't entirely sure he was aware he was even having a conversation. "The doctor said you hit the water hard enough to get a concussion. We tried everything we could think of to bring you around, but you wouldn't wake up." He peeked at her through a veil of eyelashes. "At that point, he told us to prepare for the worse. The odds were you would slip into a coma overnight."

"Damn."

"Yeah." He exhaled sharply and licked his lips. "Before anyone can come running to you with horror stories about how I reacted, I'll tell you myself I didn't take it well."

She looked at him. "Really?"

He nodded as his hand sought hers and she gave it to him. "I haven't been that pissed off in a while. It got so bad that I started throwing shit and the next thing I know, I ripped open the stitches in my gut and shoulder. It was a fucking madhouse. Pierce's freaking out because of all the blood. Shaundi's screaming at me to sit the fuck down so the doctor could fix me. They tried to restrain me and I kept pushing them off of me. Out of nowhere, Oleg - this really big motherfucker, by the way - catches me with a right hook. This is the first time I've been awake since then."

"Jay!"

"I know, right?" He rubbed his jaw. "I admit, I may have overreacted a little bit by tearing up the place. But still, we were in a fucking hospital. If they really wanted to sedate me, they have anesthesia for that shit! Hell, if they were too afraid to approach me, they could have loaded a needle up in a milkshake straw and shot the bitch at me. Anything but have him damn near break my fucking jaw." He pouted and rubbed his jaw some more.

"What happened after I fell off of the bridge?" She asked, realizing that she was wearing one of his tall t-shirts. She hoped like hell whoever had dressed her had been respectable.

"It was chaos. I don't know what their orders were, but when you went over, there were a good number of them that were more than prepared to go over after you. I shot them and then the brutes came. I didn't pay attention to too much other than that. Backup arrived, and it was a war on that bridge."

Her eyes drifted down to his torso. "How did you get hurt?"

"What?" He followed her line of sight. "Oh, these. Typical me. You know, shoot first, shoot some more, and when everybody's dead, try to ask a question. You were too busy freaking out about going swimming to notice that they didn't give a fuck whether or not they hit you. So... I took a few bullets for you."

The tears fell before she even realized they were coming. "Jay..."

He looked at her and gave her a small, sad smile. "Silly woman, you don't have to cry about it. The car's okay. It's downstairs in the garage, fully repaired."

She sat up and stared at him, conflicted. She didn't know what bothered her more: him thinking it upset her they had damaged the car, or him believing that she cared more about the car than his welfare. He sat up slowly and looked into her eyes. She didn't know what he was looking for, but she hoped like hell he'd find it. Without a second thought, she pulled him into a tight embrace, trying desperately to stop the waterworks.

"You fucking moron." She whispered in between sniffles. "I don't care about the damn car. I care about you."

He took a minute to process her words then held her in return. "You can't care about a gang banging stranger." He teased, rubbing her back.

"You're not a stranger." She rested her cheek against his neck, allowing herself to relax and enjoy the wonderful feel of his arms around her, in this way. "Not anymore."

"I'm a gang banger. Even worse, I'm the leader of the Saints. What would Layla say?"

So that was it. That was the reason she'd held herself away from him? Losing Layla had been the hardest thing she'd ever faced. If she wanted to be with Jamien, she'd have to forgive those responsible for Layla's death and move on with her life. Was she ready to do that just yet? It felt wrong to even consider it. She'd held onto the pain for so long she couldn't remember what it had been like when Layla was alive.

Could she easily forgive the Saint he knew was responsible? Was she supposed to hold Jamien accountable, since he had been and still was their leader? She inhaled deeply, savoring his scent.

Just this once, she could make an exception to the rules she used to govern her life. Just this once, she'd be selfish and try to be happy again.

Chapter Text

Denitra woke much later, just in time to catch the sun setting. It was weird. She didn't remember falling asleep again. She sat up slowly, painfully aware of the soreness that lingered in her body, particularly in her bones. She still felt drowsy. Her feet were cold, too. She didn't feel like herself, and something nagged at her that she should be careful. She just couldn't remember why.

She scooted as close to Jamien as she could, stealing his body heat until she realized that she was hungry. After a quick raid of the refrigerator, she put together a ham and cheese sandwich and found a bag of chips, then plopped down on the couch in front of the large flat screen TV. After flicking through the channels for nearly fifteen minutes, she settled on a channel dedicated to movies showcasing sappy romances and homicidal wives. It was her guilty pleasure.

When Jamien felt well enough to move around, he came downstairs and joined her on the couch. For the first time, she didn't object to his casual touch. He dived onto the couch and rested his head on her lap, busy with his cell phone. Under the weight of his head, her legs tingled. At first, she said nothing, choosing instead to remove the band around his ponytail and finger comb his hair out. Despite its dull appearance, it was very soft - void of any hair care product. Funny how she'd never given it any thought before, considering how much pride she had in her own mane. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that it wasn't black. It was actually a very dark brown.

Huh, you learn something new every day.

"See something you like?" A knowing smile graced his lips, and she returned it.

"I think so, yeah." With one hand on top of his smooth forehead and the other on his chest, finger racing over the coarse pattern of a Saints logo on his shirt, she leaned down, eyes focused on his lips. She felt him go still, barely breathing, as he waited patiently. Her hand slowly moved from his chest up to the side of his face, pausing briefly to run her thumb over the stubble that covered his cheek. Just when he was sure he couldn't wait any longer, she continued closing the gap between their lips, until hers hovered over his. She could feel his every breath, tickling her lips as it mingled with her own, creating a sweet aroma of cinnamon and mint. She could almost feel his lips on her when his phone went off, ringing loudly and vibrating like a brand new sex toy, scaring the utter shit out of both of them.

Denitra sat back suddenly, eyes wide, very aware of what had almost happened.

"Fuck!" Jamien searched around him and found the offending piece of shit on the seat next to Denitra's hip. He snatched it up. "What?"

"Damn, glad to see you're conscious." Pierce's voice filled the room as Jamien put the phone on speaker.

Jamien inhaled deeply and took his time letting it out before he spoke. "I was sorta busy, Pierce. I don't suppose I could convince you to spit out whatever you need to say?"

"Yeah, me and Z are throwing another party."

Denitra frowned. Damn, those two goobers threw parties every other night!

Jamien waited a second for Pierce to elaborate. "Are we celebrating hoes and strippers again?"

"Huh? No, man. It's August 29th, the last Friday of the month. We're celebrating August birthdays." There was a pause. "You know Gat's birthday was on the fourth. Shaundi will be here and, uh, I was hoping you'd come along to keep her grounded. I don't know what she expects out of us, but I ain't gonna be all morbid and shit. It's a celebration, not another funeral."

Denitra noticed the change in Jamien. Though he did well to keep the sadness that came with mentioning Johnny from showing on his face, those eyes of his said it all. Jamien caught her worried expression and quickly looked away, then got up and walked away. "Yeah. I'll be there."

When he moved to shove his phone into his back pocket, she was in motion. Before he could make it to the stairs, her arms wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to her. Seconds stretched into minutes, the minutes nearly became an hour. He finally turned around and looked down at her. "Feel better?"

He put a hand on her head as he leaned in to press his warm lips against her cool forehead. "I only stood there that long because I like how you feel wrapped around me." His smirk appeared conceited and had a far from innocent tone behind it. Still, those eyes didn't lie.

She rolled her eyes and moved around him, "Yeah, sure you did."

He caught her by the hand before she reached the stairs, his very warm compared to hers. "Thanks."

She smiled shyly and hid her face, sure she was blushing. "You're welcome."

"Do you feel like going to a party?"

Truth be told, she was still tired. However, the hopeful look on his face stopped her from saying so. "Yeah."

The minute Denitra stepped off of the elevator with Jamien, she was instantly glad she came to the party. Those whose birthdays were being celebrated had a gold crown on their heads decorated with purple gems. There were balloons and streamers everywhere, and a bubble machine going crazy upstairs by the bar shooting bubbles down into the living area downstairs. The music was on point and, for a change, the strippers were dressed classy. Denitra was very impressed.

"Boss!" Someone yelled out, and the crowd turned their attention to them. Denitra hung back, toying with the soft fabric of her shirtsleeve. These people were glad to see their fearless leader alive and well, so he deserved the spotlight they were giving him. A huge happy birthday banner stretched across the windows of the second-story windows in the living area caught her attention. Though she was too far away to tell for sure, it was a purple fabric banner with "Happy Birthday" stretched across it in white with black shadowing, and the names of the birthday people signed all over it. Cute.

Below it, Zimos was dancing, swinging around his cane and doing a generic jig as two strippers danced with him. Apparently, he had a birthday in August as well. Watching him dance was like watching an ancient episode of Soul Train - it was painful to look at and she wondered if he'd been present at any of the tapings.

A firm, warm hand closed around her wrist and pulled her suddenly. She slammed against a solid human wall and looked up, ready to ruin someone's day. Jamien looked down at her, flashing a brilliant smile. "Distracted?"

She rolled her eyes and tried to push him away. "No. Just admiring the decorations."

He nodded, then made a show of leaning down to plant a kiss on her nose. "It looks nice." His arm went around her waist and pulled her tight against his side. "Come on, let's go find Pierce."

After some searching, and stopping to have conversations with various members along the way, they found the Second-in-command outside by the pool, trying to convince some strippers to skinny dip. She heard Jamien make a comment that made Pierce laugh, but found that she couldn't quite focus on their actual words. She sipped her drink and noted her surroundings. The air was cool and smelled strongly of wet leaves. She shivered as a gust of wind blew over her. Her hands and feet felt like ice, especially with the cup in her hand. A yawn caught her by surprise, getting Jamien's immediate attention.

"You okay, babe?" He looked her over, and it embarrassed her, seeing the smug look on Pierce's face behind Jamien's back.

"I-I'm fine." She wanted to say more, but another yawn escaped. Suddenly, she felt light-headed, as if yawning back to back had cut back on her air supply. She felt her body tilt to the side, and she reached out to catch herself only to find out she didn't have to bother. Jamien was right there, arms around her and concern on his face.

"Fine, my ass." He mumbled as he put her back on her feet. "We'll be upstairs."

"Cool." Pierce raised his glass and returned his attention to the strippers.

It seemed like everyone suddenly had their eyes on her, assessing her, criticizing her. She felt weak. She felt foolish. She'd been so busy worrying about school and getting to it she'd forgotten that she hadn't taken her medicine since Sunday. However, with their compromise reaching its end, she hoped she could go just a little longer without it.

Jamien guided her into the room, and she immediately thought of the last time she'd been in the room alone with him. The lamps on either side of the bed gave off a soft lavender glow giving the room a calming atmosphere. The bed looked so soft, so inviting that her feet were moving her body towards it before she'd decided to do so. She heard the door shut, and all the noise outside of the bedroom ceased. She was so tired. She had to be to just plop down on the silk sheets and curl up into a ball, not giving a second thought as to who had recently been in the bed doing what. Who cared?

"You okay?"

She rolled onto her side and looked down her nose at him before closing her eyes. "Just tired." The tingling in her legs came back.

"You sure that's all it is?" She felt the bed shift under his weight and his warm hand against her skin. "You're freezing. We weren't outside that long."

She debated on whether or not to tell him, to be completely honest with him. She wanted to be with him, to be in a relationship with him, and if that would happen and be successful, she knew she'd have to be honest - especially if she would expect it in return. Honesty meant the world to her because it meant you were willing to be committed.

She didn't want him to look at her differently, treat her differently. She didn't want him to see her like a fragile doll as her parents did. It was the sole reason she was an only child. "Dee?"

His hand was warm against her cheek. She sighed and leaned into it, closed her eyes and spoke softly. "I have sickle cell anemia. The medicine and vitamins I take to manage it was in the car. I've kinda forgotten about it because I got caught up in the excitement of being kidnapped and held for ransom." She smiled to downplay her words, but for once, Jamien found nothing funny.

"You what?" His serious expression hurt her feelings a bit.

"I have sickle - "

"No, I heard that part. How in the hell do you forget to take your medicine?"

She blinked, confused. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "If you needed medicine, you should have told someone. We have millions of dollars floating around and all this time you needed something that important?" He flicked her on the nose. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She blinked at the sudden disruption in her field of vision then frowned. "I'm sorry, did you miss the part about being kidnapped throwing me off?"

"You've had plenty of time since the minute you woke up on that couch to let someone know you needed medicine. For fuck's sake, we have a hospital on payroll!"

"Well, excuse you, Mr. I-Own-the-Fucking-World. Not everyone can keep their cool when there's bullets whizzing by their heads or when being forced to share a bed with an absolute stranger!" She attempted to sit up, but he tackled her, straddling her hips and leaning down so that his face was directly above hers with only two inches separating them. His hands found her wrists and pinned them near her head.

"What kind of medicine do you need?" It almost didn't sound like a question. Almost.

"Droxia."

"What does that do?" He sounded curious, so she stowed the attitude.

"It helps manage episodes of pain called sickle cell crisis."

"Can it get bad enough for you to need to go to the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever been hospitalized because you didn't take your medicine?"

"...Yes."

"That's all I need to know." He jumped up off of her, and air came to her a little easier. She hadn't noticed that she had a little trouble breathing when he was on top of her. Jamien strode over to the door and yanked it open, whistled and pointed to someone, then came back in.

"Yeah, Boss?" A guy who could have been a college freshman came in. Despite the young face, his voice carried years of wisdom and experience.

"I need you to run down to the hospital and get a drug called Droxia. Bring back as much as you can - "

"I don't need that much, Jay," Denitra interjected, sitting up.

He turned and pointed at her. "Hush, woman." He turned back to the guy. "If we don't have it, find it, then call Pierce to find out where to drop it off. There's no telling how long it may take you to find it."

"That's not all I'll need if you're gonna make him go through the trouble of going out for drugs in the middle of a party."

"Then what else do you need?" He looked at her.

"Iron and folic acid." She thought about it. "I guess, to be safe in case I've waited too long, something for pain like Percocet or oxycodone."

Jamien looked back at his follower. "You get all that?"

"Yeah. And call Pierce when I get it."

Jamien nodded. "Thanks, now get moving. This shit's important, got that? Don't fail."

The guy's eyes widened. "Yes, sir."

"Take a crew if you feel you need one. You never know when one of the other gangs may shoot at you, and I need you to come back with that."

The guy nodded and backed out of the room. Jamien closed the door behind him and turned towards her. "Unbelievable." He shook his head then dove onto the bed. "You know, I don't know if I can forgive you for this."

"For what?"

"Putting yourself in danger."

She frowned. "I did not - "

"I don't know too much about sickle cell anemia, Denitra, but I know that shit's nothing to play with. You're supposed to take it seriously."

"I do!" She looked at him, getting angrier by the second. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child when this is as much of your fault as it is mine. I asked you to let me go."

He looked at her and his expression softened. "I'm glad I didn't."

She exhaled sharply and threw her hands up. "I can't keep up with you."

He laughed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her down onto her back beside him. "You don't see what I'm seeing, babe. You damn near passed out, standing next to a pool. You could have drowned if I'd been a little more inebriated, if my reaction time had been a little more compromised. Not to mention, you're pale. Something serious could have happened. What if I'd been out doing something and left you alone with some followers? They wouldn't have known if you needed to go to the hospital or if you were just faking."

"Jay - "

"No, hear me out, damn it." His fingers found her chin and forced her to face him, to look into those hypnotizing eyes. "I trashed a hospital because I thought they had broken you beyond repair. I killed the fuckers who attacked us on that bridge because I thought they really might try to take you away from me. I can't do anything to you. I can protect you from everything and everybody but yourself. I need you to take care of yourself, no matter what, because that's the one thing I can't do for you." He paused. "Well, I could, but that would require tying you down to a hospital bed and would involve feeding tubes, needles, and catheters - "

"I get it!" She put a hand over his mouth, eyes shut tightly against the image. "I get it."

He kissed her hand then moved it away, staring into her eyes, melting her free will. "Do you? I could show you if you needed a demonstration."

Suddenly, she tingled all over in anticipation. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I think I'd like a demonstration."

He smirked and his hand found her cheek, moving ever so slowly to the back of her neck. He pulled her towards him as he leaned forward. She couldn't look away from those eyes, darkened with lust and as deep as a well. She realized that she had wanted that first real kiss as much as he did and was finally ready for it to happen. In fact, she couldn't wait. When she felt his nose brush hers, she closed her eyes, wanting to heighten her sense of touch through her lips to make the memory that much stronger.

She waited.

She waited.

His phone went off.

"OH, COME ON!" They said in unison, then fell out laughing.

"This is just fucking ridiculous." Jamien couldn't keep the smile off of his face, despite his frustration. He put the phone to his ear. "What is it, Kinzie?"

"I need you to come meet me at the warehouse. I've found the chair I've been looking for."

He groaned. "Aw, can't you just order it online? You can just look up my credit card info and use it."

It seemed to throw her off. "What? Order it on - No! You can't order this chair anywhere. It's one of a kind. Can you just get down here?"

Jamien slapped a hand over his face. "Yes. I. Can." Though his words were muffled, Kinzie heard him.

"See you when you get here." The phone beeped when she hung up and Jamien immediately threw the phone across the room.

"Fucking technology! It makes me miss the days when the only way you could contact a person who wasn't standing in front of you was by fucking mail!" He kicked his feet angrily then sat up and sighed. "I have to go."

"It's okay." Denitra bit her lip and sat up, rubbing his back.

He looked at her, reached over to touch her hair then her lips with his thumb. "No, it isn't. Her timing sucks royally."

"So does Pierce's."

"Agreed." He huffed and stood up. "I'll send Pierce up to get you. When you get your medicine, take it. Do you hear me, woman?"

She laughed at his tone. "Yes, Daddy."

He stopped and his eyes darkened again. "Call me that again and I won't go anywhere, special chair be damned."

She laughed even harder. "Go, Jay. Isn't this the phone call you've been waiting for since I got here? Get going. Go!" She shooed him with her hands. He leaned down and kissed her forehead then darted out the door. She promised herself that the next time she saw him, she would get her kiss.

Chapter Text

There were no words Jamien knew that he could use to describe just how good he felt as he rode the elevator up to the loft of Safeword. He was so thrilled with himself, that he hopped from foot to foot, too impatient to see her again. He had news he was certain would make her day. By the time the doors opened, he was practically dancing with excitement. "Dee?"

"Yeah?" The delicious aroma of her cooking told him exactly where to find her. She turned away from the stove, hair pinned back in a ponytail wearing yet another one of his t-shirts with rainbow vomit pajamas, wielding a spatula. He looked in the skillet and his mouth watered: quesadillas. He hadn't eaten something solid damn near all day. "What is it?"

"Oh, yeah." He looked at her and tried to put on a serious face. "Pack your things."

Confusion flittered across her face, closely followed by suspicion and hurt. "Why? Are you sending me home?"

He tilted his head to the side, causing his hair to hang lower than his shoulder. "What? Why the fuck would I do that?" He shook his head, dismissing her craziness. "I just got a new crib over in Burns Hill!"

She blinked a few times. "Okay...?"

He huffed. "You're killing me. We're moving to a new crib, one without a brothel downstairs!"

She gasped and hopped up and down. "Are you serious, Jay?!"

He was more than pleased with her response. She was happy to get away from the strippers. He was happy because with the Deckers' former compound being three times the size of Safeword, it would give them more privacy than they got. The University of Steelport was in Ashwood, just southeast of Burns Hill.

'She'd have no excuse not to come back...'

Denitra threw her arms around him, bubbling over with laughter. He caught one of her hands and danced with her, enjoying himself, then dipped her low, crushing his lips against hers.

The second their lips touched, shock shot through him and he froze, realizing what he'd just done. Immediately, he stood upright with her. She was still giggling with glee when she realized that he was staring at her with a look that sent a pleasant chill up her spine. She licked her lips and looked down, then slowly back up at him. "What's wrong?"

He groaned low in his throat, picked her up, put her down on the kitchen island, and stood in between her legs. His hands found her soft cheeks and held her in place. Nothing would stop him this time - he swore it. He allowed his thumbs to once again feel her soft lips, giving him what he was sure was a watered-down version of heaven. Her eyes were wide and, in them, he saw everything he felt. Hope. Anticipation. Love.

Love? Yeah...love.

He paused briefly to allow that last bit to take root in his heart. There was no rejection of the idea, only complete and total acceptance. He loved her. It felt good to say it in his head and be at peace with it. Warm fuzzies didn't have shit on this.

He allowed one hand to drop onto her thigh as the other gently held her chin. "Jay?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes?"

"Do you plan on kissing me sometime this year, before Christmas?"

He closed his eyes and chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I do. Before the night's over if I can help it."

Her arms went around his neck and yanked him closer. "Then let me help you." She whispered and pressed her lips delicately to his. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of the perfect bath water over him, leaving him pleasantly warm from head to pinky toe. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to let his guard down, for her. He heard her whimper, and it made him eager for more, eager to claim all that she offered him. His hand found her hair, and he gently gave it a tug, pulling her head back. She gasped, and he took advantage of her open mouth. Their lips and tongues danced, pushing and pulling, nibbling and caressing. He felt her hand push through his hair and gently massage his scalp as the tip of her tongue lightly skimmed the roof of his mouth, causing him to shudder with delight.

He felt like he could spend eternity just kissing her.

The elevator dinged, and he heard someone step off of it. "Hey, Boss! Congrats, man - " Without even stopping to see who it was, Jamien whipped out his pistol and aimed it, hoping like hell it was pointed at the intruder or that they at least understood the fucking message. It was hard to concentrate when absorbed in a kiss as hot as this. "Um, okay. I can see you're busy. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

It wasn't until the doors of the elevator closed again that Jamien lost his composure and laughed into the kiss, causing her to follow suit. "That was mean."

"I'm sick of being interrupted." He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, resting his head on top of hers. "Remind me to go apologize to Pierce later. I try not to make it a habit of aiming a gun at my lieutenants. Breeds bad blood."

She pressed her cheek to his chest. "So, tell me about the new place."

"It honestly looks the same as this, just without stripper poles and some other minor details, but I plan to omit those to open the floor up and give it some distinction from this one."

"And you said it was in Burns Hill?"

"Yeah. About a five-minute drive from the University." He waited.

She pulled away and looked up at him. "Jay, I told you I can't - "

"I'm not asking you to move in with me - yet." He gave her a hard look. "So you have to finish school first, I can deal with that. But you can't avoid it forever. Once you graduate," he leaned over and put his lips close to her ear, "you're all mine."

On the ride over to Burns Hill, Denitra had been anxious, just barely able to keep still in her seat. Her lips were still warm and kiss-swollen. She didn't know if her light-headed feeling was from the medicine she needed or from his captivating kisses. To be safe, she assumed it was from both. He drove their Temptress with precision, carefully weaving in and out of traffic, all the while pushing a hundred miles per hour. There were more than a few moments when she wondered if she'd live to see the new penthouse, and in some attempt to reassure her, he reached over and held her hand. It did little to help.

The Burns Hill Reactors wasn't what she envisioned. She expected some run down, abandoned set of buildings. They were well maintained. Though the lights that illuminated the exterior were still blue, it was ready for the Saints to occupy. From what little she saw as Jamien rushed her to the executive elevator, the base housed members of the gang round the clock - one wing dedicated to sleeping quarters and bathroom facilities. When he told her that the penthouse was designed similarly to the one at Safeword, he wasn't too far off. If he omitted some renovations that had been made in the old penthouse, like the stripper poles, then it would look different.

She hoped like hell he was serious about not installing stripper poles.

She put down her duffle bag, drawn to the huge floor to ceiling windows. Sure, Safeword had them too, but it didn't have the beautiful view that this one offered. Safeword faced the water to its east. Burns Hill faced downtown Steelport. Suddenly, the lights dimmed and Denitra looked over her shoulder. Jamien approached her with a remote in his hand.

"I found the universal remote." He held it up for her to see. "Did it make the view look better?"

She turned back to the window and wrapped her arms around herself. "Yeah, it did. As if it needed help. It's so beautiful."

She felt his arms go around her and pull her close to him. He kissed her cheek and leaned his head against hers. "Not as beautiful as you, but yeah, it's something to look at."

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, smiling damn near from ear to ear. "That's so cheesy."

"Then grab a bowl of macaroni and chow down. It's still true, though." He shrugged. She laughed and turned around to face him.

"Thank you for the compliment, Jay."

"It's too late; you've already ruined it." His words were harsh, but his expression, his smile, was anything but.

She pressed her body along the front of his and looked up into his eyes, the brilliant glow of downtown Steelport casting a romantic glow on his face. "I'm sorry. Forgive me?" She pouted.

He fought hard not to give in. He leaned down and captured her bottom lip with his teeth, biting it lightly. "Yeah. I forgive you." With the skyline as their background, Denitra enjoyed the second round of many kisses for the night.

Chapter Text

To say that he was simply pissed would be a gross understatement. He was seething. Kinzie had downplayed the side effects of using the NEMO chair to project his subconscious into the Deckers' virtual world - it gave him a throbbing headache unlike any he'd ever had. He would have preferred to just pull a Johnny and blown the remaining Deckers to hell in the real world, but no, Kinzie insisted that the only real way to get to them would be through the Deckers' framework since all of their dealings were cyber-based. So far, he'd run around as a toilet and a blow-up doll. He hoped like hell no one would dare bring up after this was over. Having to play Dungeons and Dragons with the Deckers' leader had been the last fucking straw. Jamien approached his fallen opponent, enjoying seeing the kid desperately scoot away from him, eyes wide with terror. He was Matt Miller's boogeyman. "Bye, Matt!" He lifted his arm, prepared to fire his cyber weapon.

"W-wait!" Matt's avatar changed, revealing just what the British brat really looked like. Jamien kinda wished he'd change back; the avatar wasn't such an eyesore. "I can clear your name, prove that you didn't destroy that bridge."

Jamien shrugged one shoulder, not impressed. "Eh, I'm sure Kinzie can figure it out."

"I literally have the world at my fingertips," Matt stressed.

Jamien was eager to shoot this version of Matt - would it bleed or explode into pixel bits? "Little vague Matt, gotta do better."

"You tell me the name of a company and it becomes property of the Saints. You get your empire back...and I get to walk away."

'So, he wants to live...' Jamien made a show of scratching his head and looking disinterested. "If that's all you can do..."

Matt hesitated and, judging by the way he squirmed, it was something good. "I-I can do better." He cleared his throat and scooted away more. "Killbane has the girl, that mayor's daughter, at the Three Count Casino. He told me he was planning to hand her over to the police for the reward."

"And just why in the hell should I believe that?"

To conveniently answer his question, a large cyber screen popped up on the side of them. It was Killbane's office. Killbane stood behind his desk, in that awful green suit, hands behind his back facing away from the camera. Denitra, dressed in one of his tall t-shirts and her horrible tie-dye pajama bottoms, sat in a chair in front of the desk. Her hands and feet were free to move, but there were two Luchadores behind her with guns trained on her.

"I thought you'd be happy to get away from the Saints, Miss Fuller." Killbane's voice grated on Jamien's nerves as if the man had smoked twelve packs of cigarettes a day.

Denitra didn't respond.

Killbane chuckled and turned around, showcasing that fucking wrestling mask. "It's okay to have mixed feelings about this. It must be very hard to decide which of us is the lesser of two evils, but," he slowly walked around the desk towards her, "I assure you, while it would be much easier to just keep you at my side, it would be in my best interest if I made sure you make it home safely - your father would appreciate it." His meaty fingers captured a lock of her hair and rolled it between his index and middle finger.

Anger and a fresh wave of adrenaline rushed through Jamien. "If this is a lie, I will hunt you down and thoroughly enjoy turning you inside out and picking you apart, very slowly."

Matt paled, turning his skin notebook paper white. "Literally or figuratively?"

"Literally." Jamien looked up towards the inky cyber sky. "Kinzie! Get me out of here!"

Within a blink of his eye, Jamien was looking at Kinzie, Pierce, and Oleg. None of them had a reassuring look on their face. "Is he telling the truth?"

"I called the boys back at Safeword." Pierce rubbed the back of his head, unable to look his leader in the eye. "Angel says the place got ransacked by Luchadores. Besides him, those who are still alive are on their way to the hospital now."

"The feed was live, and it traced back to Three Count." Kinzie's hands worked fast to unstrap him from the NEMO chair.

"FUCK! Was this a setup then?" He looked at Kinzie and Oleg, unable to keep the suspicion at bay.

"No... At least I don't think it was." Kinzie admitted.

"Maybe not at first." Oleg gave Jamien a hard look, apparently insulted that Jamien would think badly of him. Fuck him, Jamien wasn't one to keep his opinions to himself. "Once we took the chair, they knew we would use it, eventually."

"But they didn't know when! We just got the damn thing. What did they do, just sit around and wait all day? Why didn't we notice them around the building?" He looked at Pierce.

Pierce held his hands up in surrender and backed away out of his reach. "Hey, man. We can stand here and ask a million questions, or we can get our asses over there and get your girl back."

He started to say something else but then he remembered her face. She had shown no emotion, didn't bat an eye or move an inch, but she was chipping the fingernail polish off of her nails. He jumped out of the chair and headed towards the door. He had to go get his girl.

He didn't ask the followers standing guard downstairs to bring him one of his cars. He didn't have time to. The second the doors opened to the outside, he broke into a flat-out run, diving through the driver's window into the car, sending glass shrapnel flying everywhere. The impact hurt his legs, but not enough to slow him down. If he'd been anyone else, he'd be on his way to the hospital instead.

He violently stomped down on the gas pedal, and the smell of burned rubber filled the air, irritating his nose and throat. Once the tires stopped screeching and could grip the road, the car shot forward, darting out over a few pedestrians and into traffic.

The route to the casino from the reactors played through in his head; minus the winding road down from Burns Hill, it was a straight shot to the Casino. If everything went well, he could be there in about ten minutes tops. But, like everything else in his life, it wasn't that easy. As soon as he turned onto the main road in between the two locations, a neon blue and black Deckers' Solar slid around a corner behind him and gave chase, immediately opening fire. Jamien gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter - he needed the car to make it there in one piece. He jerked the steering wheel to the left hard, causing the car to spin around. In that brief moment he faced the pursuing car, he aimed his pistol out of the driver's window and squeezed the trigger. Brain matter exploded all over the driver's headrest and the car jumped the curb, coming to an abrupt halt inside of a pawnshop. He gave the steering wheel another yank, pointing it in the right direction, and a neon blue and black Kayak darted around a different corner and gave chase, showering the car with even more bullets.

His tolerance for bullshit was wearing dangerously thin.

Muttering curses, he lifted the armrest in between the seats and felt inside. His hand closed around a hand grenade and he smiled wickedly. He drove down the middle of the street, slowing down just enough to encourage the Kayak to pull up alongside him. As he'd hoped, it did. The driver kept the car steady as the passengers aimed their automatic weapons at him. He didn't bother to look at them, instead putting the pin of the grenade between his teeth and yanking on it, separating the two. With a flick of his wrist, the tiny devastating device went flying through his open passenger window and into the open driver side of the Deckers' window. Jamien slammed on his brakes, causing his car to come to a shrieking halt. The big SUV continued on the abruptly swerved right before exploding into a flaming wreck.

He kept going. With another hard right, he left Burns Hill on the intercity highway that bordered Ashwood going into Brickston. For a second, it was quiet other than the roaring sound of the car's engine. Just when he thought he was alone, he spotted several neon blue cars zooming down the street towards him. As much as he loved toying with the Deckers, he was on a mission and couldn't afford to disappoint the lady waiting for him. The two Solars stopped, angling the front of their cars towards each other. It was just his fucking luck that the two Kayaks did the same, completely blocking the way. The Deckers spilled out of their cars and opened fire on his now smoking car. He realized he should have expected as much from a car he didn't personally care for. Something slammed into the back of his car and he looked in the rearview mirror, then held in a sigh. Yet another Solar was on his ass.

Fuck it.

He stomped down on the gas, causing the car to shoot forward. With a death grip on the steering wheel, he braced for what he was about to do. If it didn't work as he had planned, he would be in even more shit. As the distance between the barrier of cars and his own quickly came to a close, he saw the Decker dive for cover. The speed and weight of the car were enough to cause it to flip into the air upon impact. Taking advantage of their surprise, he grabbed one grenade now floating in the air, yanked the pin out, and tossed it down towards them. The car landed on the solid pavement with a loud groan, ramming into the railing of the bridge. For a second there, Jamien was sure the car would keep going over it and onto the street and buildings below, but have mercy, the damn thing bounced back towards the road. He hit the gas again. The grenade went off, causing all four cars to explode at once, flinging bodies in every direction. A severed, flaming arm landed on the windshield and he turned on the wipers to get rid of it. Professor Genki would have been proud.

Once the car touched pavement in New Baranac, the Luchadores joined the Deckers. Apparently, it meant a lot to them that the Police pick up Denitra. He wondered if Denitra was looking forward to it, or if she wanted him to go get her. He shook his head, gritted his teeth, and pulled out his gun, aiming at the cars that dared to get in his way. He couldn't afford to doubt her. Not now, not ever.

He pulled the trigger of his pistol, only to hear it click. Fucking A. He tossed it aside and reached down under his seat for his backup. Usually, he had time to reload his handguns, but he'd been so neck deep in shit and trouble he hadn't had the chance just yet. He hoped like hell he wouldn't cycle through all of his weapons before he even got to the damn building.

Despite the constant barrage of bullets, attempts to ram his car off of the road, and roadblocks, it wasn't long before Three Count Casino's neon lights appeared. On the ground directly in front of him, two Luchadore vehicles - a Bulldog and a Compensator - swerved around opposite corners, creating yet another roadblock and opening fire. 'These motherfuckers don't give up...' He gladly returned fire, shooting out their front tires before taking aim at the occupants. Suddenly, his engine smoked ominously before bursting into flames. Without a second thought, he yanked open his car door and fell out of the car. The car plowed into the Luchadores and their vehicles, resulting in one of the best explosions Jamien had seen that day.

But that left him on foot and still a few miles away from the Casino's front doors.

A familiar Churchill with a familiar elderly woman driving caught his attention. "Well, I'll be damned." Jamien ran over to it and yanked the door open.

"Oh! Oh, my - " He grabbed her by the collar and yanked her out.

"I'm willing to bet you don't remember my fucking face." He shook her. "YOU HIT ME WITH YOUR CAR, LADY!" He tossed her onto the ground and hopped inside, immediately switched the station to Gen X. With that, Jamien pushed the pedal to the floorboard, causing the tires to screech. Jamien didn't bother to park the stolen car at the curb when he arrived in front of Three Count - he drove it straight through the front doors.

He stepped out, a D4TH Blossom in each hand, looked for Denitra then opened fire. The casino echoed with gunfire and screams of the gambling patrons. As he suspected, Luchadores came from every direction, returning fire. He was a man on a mission, and would not be deterred.

"Boss! We gotcha covered, go on ahead!" He heard someone shout. He turned his head slightly and gave them the okay, then darted through the chaos. He was glad he'd snuck in the casino before, knowing that one day he'd own it.

He found the corridor that led to Killbane's office. He leaned against the wall and quietly reloaded his guns. He was sure that there would be Luchadores everywhere, determined to protect their masked leader. When he turned the corner, he got the shock of his life.

"I find it strange that you show up right after Matty leaves."

Killbane leaned against the same corner where Jamien had been, calm despite facing two SMGs.

"Where is she?" Jamien tried to force himself to be just as calm and cool, but it still came out as a low growl.

Killbane nodded his head toward his office door. "In there, educating herself. I don't think you want to go in there."

"If you've hurt her - "

Killbane smiled. "Of all the people in the world, no one will ever be able to hurt her as much as you."

Jamien froze, hearing every implied word in between what the man had just said. It made his blood run cold. "No."

Killbane let out a short, booming chuckle. "Oh, yes." He put a heavy, meaty hand on Jamien's shoulder, giving him a there, there pat. He pushed away from the wall and turned to leave.

Jamien wanted to go after him, to put one of his guns in the man's mouth and squeeze the trigger until the gun clicked, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Soon, the heavy footsteps faded and lighter, hurried ones that clicked on the wooden floor found him.

"Boss?" Shaundi's hand grabbed his arm and turned him to face him. Her eyes assessed him for any harm, and when she saw nothing amiss, she touched his face. "Boss, you okay?"

Jamien shook his head and looked towards the door. He knew what was waiting for him behind it, and for once in his life, he wasn't ready for it. "Stay here, okay?"

Shaundi had never heard his voice that soft, filled with something that made her heart ache for him. But she let him go on his own. She'd be there in that same spot when he came out.

Chapter Text

She couldn't believe her eyes. Well, she could, but she damn sure didn't want to. Despite the tears that clouded her vision, she could still make out the horrific image on the projector screen in front of her. One hand glued over her mouth, which had found its way up there when Killbane clicked the mouse of his computer. Her other arm wrapped around her stomach, partly because of the pain, partly because of the nausea that threatened to bring up her lunch.

"I can explain."

That voice. She turned around slowly. Jamien. He stood there, pale as a ghost, just as grim. To add insult to injury, there was a gun in each hand. She frowned. He realized what she was looking at and gently put them down, then put his hands in the air. Surrender. She took three tries to clear her throat and even then her voice was still thick. "Explain how?" She looked back at the picture of him up on the wall. "There's no mistaking it. It speaks for itself, Jamien."

He flinched at the use of his name. It sounded so impersonal now. "I-I know, Dee, but there's more to it than just that - "

"LIKE WHAT?!" She shrieked, her voice echoing. She looked at him, expecting an answer but he didn't have one. He looked lost, as if he knew he was losing his way with her. Tough. She was shattered once again - there was no coming back from this shit. She looked at the image again. It was like looking at a train wreck. She could not take her eyes off of it.

It was a photo taken from a security camera from inside the Gift Shoppe, of him holding someone in front of him, aiming a gun at someone off camera. A sagging body. A dead body.

A dead Layla.

More tears fell as she let out a shuddering breath. She'd kissed the bastard. Had allowed him to hold her, feed her his stupid lies.

When all along, he'd been the one who destroyed her sanity, broken her heart, and utterly killed her spirit. She looked at him again. "How could you?"

A look crossed his face. Fear? Regret? "I didn't know then. I didn't know - If I could go back in time..." He kept talking but something had dawned on her.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" Her voice was low, a whisper that came from nightmares.

He stopped talking, unsure of how he should answer. For once in his life, he was truly cornered with no way of surviving. "Dee - "

"When did you find out?" She paused, remembering on her own. "Pierce told you." She allowed her hands to drop to her sides. "He knew, too."

"We knew that I was the one who started the shooting." He looked up at the picture. "But, damn Dee, I didn't remember her until recently. I wanted to tell you the truth, but you were happy. You were just getting over her."

"Three years. Three long years of therapy, of being handled like porcelain, of taking anti-depressants - three long years I will never get back...because of you." She gestured to the picture. "You used her as a fucking meat shield! How can you not remember doing some shit like that?!"

"In my defense, I did that often. You don't keep track of each and every person you grab a hold of."

The following silence seemed to stretch on forever. "You heartless monster."

"Dee, you knew who I was and what I've done the minute you let go and fell for me. You even accepted the fact I could have had something to do with the shooting. Why are you so surprised and upset?" He moved closer, tried reaching for her hand but she yanked away and stepped out of his reach.

"I only know what you've told me. You knew I'd want to know this. You didn't tell me. Sending your flunkies out to kill is one thing. Doing it yourself is a whole different matter."

"Is it really any different? To me, doing it myself is better - only a coward sends people out to do what he could do." He sighed, running his hand over his face then through his hair. "The police are on their way. We can argue about this in the car."

"What makes you think I'd go anywhere with you? As you said, what would Layla say? You killed her." She shook her head as another wave of tears came. "I can't believe I never asked."

He dropped his hands and stared at her. "I didn't kill her."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'm supposed to believe that shit, Jamien?"

Pain crept into his chest, wrapped around his heart, and slowly began to squeeze it tight. "I've never lied to you, Denitra."

"Omission is lying, Jamien."

"Then I didn't mean to." He took another step towards her, and she took another one away from him. It made his chest tighter.

"Yes, you did."

He ran out of words to say. They stared at each other until they could hear sirens in the distance. The door opened and Shaundi and Pierce ran in, guns in hand. "Boss - "

The words died in Pierce's throat as they both caught sight of the image. Shaundi recognized their leader but didn't understand the significance. "What's with the photo op?"

Pierce hesitated but brought himself to look at Denitra. The accusation in her eyes was worse than any bullet he'd ever taken. "Dee - "

"We have to go, Boss." Shaundi cut in, picking up on the tension and pain in the room. Now wasn't the time to deal with whatever they were going through. "SPD will storm the place in less than two minutes."

Jamien reached for Denitra again. "Please, just come with me. Hear me out and, if you don't like what I have to say, then I'll let you go. Please, Dee."

She shook her head, wrapped her arms around her body, and put more distance between them. "I'm sick of the people I give my heart to hurting me this fucking badly." She looked at them over her shoulder. "Go to hell, all of you."

Jamien opened his mouth to say something, but Shaundi grabbed his arm prompting Pierce to pick up his guns and push him out the door. Once they left, she allowed herself to fall apart. It seemed like gravity increased tenfold, causing her knees to buckle. She hit the floor with a hard smack on the wooden floor and cried out, heartache suffocating her. Her best friend died at the hands of the man she'd fallen in love with.

There was no fairness in the world.

Chapter Text

*Friday, five days later*

The first week of college had been hectic, but Denitra had managed. In between being hounded by various reporters wanting to get the exclusive - a detailed account of what it'd been like to be held captive by the Leader of the Saints and forced to be his love slave - and fighting off her overprotective mother, she was adjusting to college life pretty well considering her history. She hadn't been able to attend school on the first day due to the emotional stress she was under. Everyone had wanted her to talk about what she'd been through, wanted her to press charges against Jamien so they could go after him.

She wanted nothing to do with him.

No one understood what it was like for her, the pain she felt. She loved him with all of her heart, held back only because she didn't want him to ever get hurt because of her. But he held back from her for his own selfish reasons. He'd seen the extent of the damage Layla's death had on her sanity. He even went so far as to try to hold her together, for his own amusement, she supposed. But he was the cause of her pain. If it hadn't been for him, Layla would be alive now. They could have been classmates, pursuing a degree in education like they'd always wanted. Layla was more than a friend. She was family. She was someone who had big plans and a bright future, unlike so many others. She deserved to live, to be happy.

She was torn between her loyalty and love for Layla and her love for Jamien. Her chest constantly ached, as if her heart was bleeding. She convinced herself that she shouldn't want to be with a guy who did the things he did - he was a menace to society - because he could never give her the one thing she ultimately wanted the most, a family of her own. It was like putting a bandage over an open wound that needed stitches. It worked now, but how long would it last? And she could never forgive Jamien, no matter how much she loved him or how desperately she wanted to be with him.

She stepped outside of the mathematics building and was caught off guard by a strong gust of wind. She struggled to hold on to her books and a purse with one hand as she used the other to make sure her brown cotton peasant skirt didn't pull an unattractive Marilyn Monroe without her consent. Once it passed, she fished through her purse for her keys and headed towards her car. She only had one class left for the day, English, and she needed to exchange the stuff she had for that class.

She scanned the parking lot for her car, a royal blue Neuron, and nearly tripped over her feet when she spotted it. On the side, in between her and her car, sat a black Temptress with a custom rose on the hood. She looked but saw no one around. She shivered, whether out of fear or anticipation she wasn't sure. She hurried, hoping to get the stuff she needed and get to her class before he appeared. She unlocked the door and tossed her stuff inside, papers scattering everywhere. She pulled out her binder and closed the door, then saw someone's reflection beside her own.

"Hey, Dee."

She screamed and jumped, turning around to face him. She exhaled sharply, then reluctantly looked up at him. He looked like hell. The first and most obvious thing she noticed was that he'd neglected to shave in a few days. There were dark spots under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days, and his hair was a mess. His eyes were as intense as ever. She immediately dropped his gaze, not wanting to go free falling with her heart into his arms again. Even if she knew he'd catch her. The cool fall air kicked up again, this time making it a little harder to breathe.

"How's school?" His tone was light, conversational. She looked at him then away again. Though there was anger in his expression, there was also hurt and pain. She had to keep reminding herself that he'd brought this on himself.

"It's going well. My teachers are all pretty understanding of...what I've been through...so they're not as strict with deadlines yet." His finger touched her chin, gently forcing her to look at him.

"You look pale and your face is cold." His thumb stroked her cheek then his hand went for her hair.

She took a step back, frowning. "It's cold outside. If you don't mind, I have to get to class." She tried to step around him but his hand caught her arm and held on tightly.

"Are you okay? Have you been taking your medicine? I know it's been a rough week for you."

"Don't worry about me."

"If I don't, who will?"

"Jamien, you look like shit. Why don't you go worry about yourself instead of me?"

His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're a part of me."

She froze, unable to avoid looking into his eyes. What she saw there nearly hurt more than seeing that picture for the first time. If she didn't get away from him soon... "Let go of me."

"We need to talk. I've given you more than enough space by now." His voice was steady, and the words sounded rehearsed.

"Did you try moving to another planet? I have nothing to say to you, Jamien." She tried to jerk away. If she stayed angry, she figured she had a better chance of staying strong. She'd shed enough tears already. Any more and the dehydration could land her in the hospital.

"I thought you said it was harder to pretend you didn't care for someone when you really did have feelings for them." He frowned.

Her chest tightened, making her stop and look at him. "It is."

"You're doing a damn good job now." Now he was frowning, too.

"Well, you can't read minds." Tears filled her eyes. The urge to turn and put her arms around him was strong - he'd been touching her for too long. Her resolve was crumbling. She pulled away. "Good thing, huh?"

He licked his lips, thinking of saying one thing, but instead came out with, "We need to talk."

She shook her head and put a hand on her hip. "About?"

"Us."

Who knew one little word could nearly destroy what little was left of a person? "What about us?" Her voice sounded weak, and she hated it.

"Dee, this isn't the place."

"This is the only place you're gonna get. Now or never."

He groaned and rubbed his face. "Do we have to do it like this?"

She folded her arms, hoping it wasn't obvious that her arms were itching to hold him. She hated this. Once again, her heart and mind were at war over him. She had allowed her heart to claim victory then, and it had cost her dearly. She was sure finding out he was Layla's killer wouldn't have hurt nearly as much if she didn't love him. "You're wasting my time."

"Then can we do this when you have plenty of time? You have, what, one more class before the weekend starts. Just agree to meet me after class." He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against her car, facing the car next to them.

"How do you know my schedule?" She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. He looked away.

"I have a few people here that owe me favors. That, and I've been buying more property...including the university." He had the grace to blush.

It took a few seconds for that to fully sink in. "Are you fucking serious? You bought the university?"

He nodded. "Not because of you, I swear. Though you are a definite bonus."

"I can't be bought, you asshole."

"I didn't say I was buying you, moron. You just happen to study here so it's a bonus for me."

"I can just transfer."

He shrugged and smiled. It seemed like it was something he hadn't done in a while either. "And I'll still own the place. I didn't buy the university to get close to you. The opportunity presented itself and I took it."

"Then why are you here now?"

"I was driving by, saw your car...thought I'd come see you. Try to talk to you again."

She remembered his previous attempts, all by letter or messenger. All rejected. "Consider this a win. We've talked." She turned away again and started walking. With each step, it became a little easier to breathe, but the pain got worse, like a knife twisting in her chest. "Goodbye, Jamien."

"You say that with a lot of confidence. You think you won't see me again?"

"Not if I can help it."

She heard him chuckle. "Trust me, babe. You can‘t."

She was happy to come back to the parking lot and find him gone. However, when she got to the spot where her car had been, she flipped out. She couldn't remember if she'd locked the door after getting her stuff, so she automatically assumed someone had stolen it. But then she'd remembered that he hadn't walked there. A few spots over, was the Temptress, with a little piece of paper fluttering in the wind, trapped against the windshield by a wiper blade.

"He fucking wouldn't..." Against her better judgment, she went over to the car and snatched the paper free.

Meet me down the street at Anabelle's.

"Son of a bitch!" She screamed, stomped her feet, then kicked the car. There wasn't a time, as if he'd be there all day and night, happily holding her car hostage. She yanked the door open and cursed - the keys were in the ignition, just for her. That pissed her off even more. As she continued to rant and rave, she realized that he'd probably planned for it to happen like this. He'd distracted her so she forgot to lock the door. Easy access. She realized that she could keep the Temptress and let him have her car, but somehow she knew he hoped she'd do just that.

She'd have a constant reminder of him, not to mention if she truly cared for the car, she'd have to take it to him at some point so he could have the maintenance taken care of. Manipulative son of a bitch. She threw her stuff into the passenger seat and got in. He'd regret forcing her to do this...

The car smelled strongly of him, mint and cigarette smoke. Did he drive it often or was it just because he'd driven it today? She shook her head and turned the key, giving life to their car. Their car. Christ, she needed to hurry up and get her car back. She missed the restaurant twice before she was able to slow it down enough to get the parking spot out front, behind her car. It was not meant to drive less than sixty miles per hour.

She marched inside and looked around. The place smelled divine. She got hungry just looking at the plates the waitresses were carrying from the kitchen to the tables. The restaurant had a cozy feel to it, like sitting at the table at a beloved relative's.

"Can I help you?" The hostess appeared next to her. "Are you meeting someone or are you by yourself?"

"Meeting someone. Black hair, blue eyes."

The girl immediately blushed from her forehead to her chin, smiling like a love-struck puppy. "Oh, him. He said he was meeting someone. Follow me." She grabbed Denitra's hand and pulled her towards a table near a window where Jamien was busy doctoring a cup of coffee that sat on the side of her car keys. "Here she is."

He looked up at her and a pleased smile graced his lips. His lips. Denitra took a deep breath and summoned her anger. "Hi, Dee. Hungry? Madeline here tells me that Anabelle's meatloaf is the best in the state."

Though she wanted nothing more than to snatch up her keys and run for the door, she found herself sitting in the chair across from him, taking a menu from Madeline. “My mama makes the best meatloaf in the state."

"Then you should order the meatloaf dinner and compare. It never hurts to be sure." Madeline smiled brightly, batting her eyelashes at Jamien, who was staring at Denitra.

"Whatever." Denitra put the menu down. "I'll get that and a glass of water."

"And you, sir?"

"Same." He put down the menu and slid it towards the edge of the table. Once the hostess and the menus were gone, Jamien smiled wider. "I thought waitresses were supposed to take orders, not the hostess?"

Denitra rolled her eyes. "Normally, but apparently if a guy is attractive enough, all the rules go out the window."

"So, you still think I'm attractive?" She expected to see cool conceit in his eyes but found innocent curiosity. She sighed and allowed her shoulders to drop, nodding. "That's good to know. Pierce said that if you're not attracted to me, there's no point in trying to fix things between us."

Though she had tried to be as angry with Pierce as she was with Jamien, she found it damn near impossible. "Pierce is full of good advice, isn't he?"

Jamien pushed aside his cup and reached for her hand. His hand was warm on top of hers, igniting yet another urge to have his arms around her. "Yeah, he is." His fingers lightly stroked the back of her hand. "You never said if you've been taking your medicine."

"Don't worry about it."

"So that's a no. If you were, you'd tell me just to shut me up."

She snatched her hand away and sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "I've gone longer without my medicine." She made sure he caught her annoyed glare. "Besides, I'm spending the weekend at my parents' house in Stilwater. I'll take my medicine when I get there tonight, okay?"

"Promise?" He held out his pinky.

She could only stare at it, unable to understand why such a stupid, silly gesture meant the world to her. She started to reach for it when two plates were on the table in front of them. She quietly picked up her fork and sampled the meatloaf. "Ugh. It's nowhere as good as mama's." She moved on to the sides, finding them much more edible.

"Are you willing to listen now?" His voice was a whisper. She looked up at him then nodded her head once.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I didn't kill her, okay?"

She froze. "I don't believe you."

"I know, that's why I did some digging to find this." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, then put it down on the table and slid it towards her. "It's not gonna make you happy, but it proves I didn't do it."

She picked it up, unsure if she wanted to see what she knew he wanted to show her. Years of therapy hadn't helped her cope with what she didn't see. The video started, and immediately gunfire was heard. It wasn't long before Jamien, with shorter hair, backed into the view of the camera. He aimed his gun but didn't fire. His mouth moved but she couldn't hear him over the background noise. His eyes widened with shock and Layla stumbled into his arms, holding onto him in desperation as she spoke to him.

He picked the phone up and turned it off. "I was in the middle of a gunfight. You'll have to guess what happened after that, with her being that close to me. I don't want you to see it."

She was quiet for a while, pushing the food around on her plate with her fork. "Why didn't the police go after you? If this came from a camera in the store, then they knew who you were and could charge you."

"It's circumstantial evidence. You don't see me actually shooting anyone. This only says I was there during the shootings with a gun. It doesn't prove I instigated anything." He looked down at the phone, turning it over and over in his hands. "Legal Lee was able to get it tossed out, forcing the DA to drop the charge."

"Must've made your damn day."

He looked up at her. "This is my first real relationship, Dee. I've never had a serious fight with someone I loved before so I don't know how to deal with this, don't know what I should say. How do you convince a person you love them enough to do whatever the fuck it takes to make the argument go away?"

"In normal relationships, one normally doesn't have to explain why he killed his girlfriend's best friend."

He tried not to smile at her casual use of the word girlfriend. "Apparently, this isn't a normal relationship, considering how we met. And I didn't kill her."

She'd reached her bullshit limit of the day. She stood, snatched up her car keys and tossed down his own. "Whatever. It doesn‘t matter whether you shot her yourself, held her against you so that someone could shoot her, or simply waltzed through the damn building. You created a situation that ended in her, along with a lot of other people, being killed. The fact that the police know it was you, but can't do anything about it, makes me sick. People who think and act like you are the reason there will never be peace in the world."

"People like me are the reason there are peaceful moments - you have to do whatever's necessary to achieve it."

She stared at him then shook her head. "Goodbye, for good, Jamien."

"Wait." He caught her hand, causing her to turn around and look at him. There were no words she knew to describe the sad and lonely look in his eyes. "If this never happened, where would we be now?"

"Why would you torture yourself with those kinds of thoughts?"

He closed his eyes and shook her hand. "Just answer me, please."

She allowed herself to pretend that it all had never happened. That Layla was still alive, attending college with her here in Steelport. She imagined that she'd met him instead on campus, maybe as he bought the school or met a friend. She could see Layla cheering her on, encouraging her to go on a date with Jamien. The ache in her chest returned, bringing on another wave of tears.

Layla was the type of person who firmly believed in love, despite the surrounding circumstances. Layla would have encouraged her, even now, to love Jamien despite the past between them all.

She snatched her hand away, scowling through tears and pain. She wasn't Layla. Past relationships hadn't hurt her the way they'd scarred Denitra's heart. When the person you loved fucked your heart over, they were supposed to suffer just as much. It was only fair...

"Where would we be?" He repeated in a broken whisper.

"We'd be together, in love." She wiped her tears away. "Maybe for just a little while, maybe forever. But I'd love you with every bit of me, and you'd never be alone as long as I had a say so. But, there's a consequence for every bad decision, and yours cost you dearly."

She backed away then turned on her heel, determined to never see the man again.

Chapter Text

Denitra hated being wrong. No, she hated proving others right. She stared up at the ceiling and exhaled deeply, thoroughly annoyed with herself. The room was cold and, despite being covered in a heap of warmed blankets, so was she. They had dimmed the lights in the room, hoping to encourage her to go to sleep. However, it was the constant hum and beeping of the machine on the side of her bed, keeping track of her pulse and blood pressure, that kept her awake. Not to mention the homicidal blood pressure cuff that seemed determined to at least amputate her arm before they discharged her from the hospital.

There was a brief knock on the door before it opened and her doctor came inside the room. "Everything's looking good. How do you feel?"

"Okay enough to go home." She rasped. Her throat was dry from not using it in nearly twelve hours.

He nodded and looked at charts before checking her vitals one last time. "Well, your mother's on her way now. I called her to let her know you were ready to go home. The nurse will be here shortly with your discharge papers and home care instructions."

"Okay, thank you." Denitra relaxed, closing her eyes to think. All she could think about was Jamien's constant nagging about her taking her medicine the day before. Of all the people in the world, he was the last person she wanted to prove right. He'd never let her live it down. Nearly twenty minutes later, her mother still hadn't shown up, but the nurse was there, removing her IV and quickly going over her home care instructions. She found that she could walk, as long as she kept a hand on the wall for support.

"I said I don't want any pain relief, bitch. JUST GET ME SOME LOA DUST!"

"Sir, we've been over this before. I can't give you - "

"THEN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!"

A young nurse with tears in her eyes nearly ran Denitra over as she backed out of the room. Denitra frowned. No patient had a right to be that rude. She peeked into the room and gasped.

"What the fuck are you...Denitra?" Michael Romaine laid in the bed, tubes of all sorts coming from him.

"Mike?" She stepped into the room, confused.

"Well, if it ain't Little Miss Goody Two Shoes. You're still in Stilwater?"

"I'm only here for the weekend. Actually, I got sick, so I had to come to the hospital." She approached his bed, resting her hand on the side rail.

He looked her over then licked his lips. "Nice to know you haven't changed. Still a little sex kitten, huh?"

She frowned and rolled her eyes. "Still a dick, I see."

"Don't play me like that. You know I've always had a thing for you."

"You were dating my best friend, Mike. It couldn't have been too much of a thing."

"You know I didn't care for her. Don't make me out to be a bad guy just because you want to ignore the truth. I tried to get with you but you shot me down." He rolled his eyes and laughed before mocking her. "'I don't have time for a relationship, I have to study so I can be a teacher.' So, I said fuck it. Go for the next best thing. Only second best never really compares to the first choice."

Her spine stiffened as her fists curled up. "Don't talk about her like that."

"But am I wrong? She knew how I felt about you then and didn't care. She claimed she understood but still loved me. I'll never understand women."

Denitra took a deep breath to control her anger. "You could have treated her with a little more respect, Mike."

"Baby, please. She could have treated herself with a little more respect. She didn't care what I said or did, as long as I stayed with her and showed her some attention."

"You were bad for her self-esteem."

"Really? I was bad for her self-esteem? It's called self-esteem, that shit ain't got nothing to do with me."

She changed the subject before she did something she'd regret later. "I didn't know you were still alive."

"Ha." He turned his head towards the window. "There are days I wish I wasn't, ya know? This shit's hard, not being able to move at all. But as long as I'm breathing on my own, they won't pull the plug."

"What happened? I thought you died in some street shootout or something."

He turned his head again. "Street shootout? Ha, no. I went to the college right when the new leader of the Saints showed up. That motherfucker was like fucking RoboCop or something, taking bullets like it wasn't shit for him."

Shock ran through her veins like ice, freezing her in place. "You were there?"

He nodded proudly. "Oh, hell yeah. I was sitting in the Gift Shoppe with Layla, waiting on your fine ass to get back. I heard the gunshots outside but thought nothing of it until his ass burst through the front doors to the Student Union. I shot him in his arm and he came in after me."

"What?" She whispered, sinking down into a nearby chair.

"Yeah!" Mike, now hyped about telling his war story, was oblivious. "He was about to shoot when Layla jumped in front of me, begging him not to kill me. He kept telling her to move and shit and she was crying. I noticed he was paying her more attention, so I shoved her ass at him. She kept begging and crying, holding onto him. All I could think of was if I could take his ass down, the General would reward me for it. So I shot at him."

"You..." Her eyes watered as she tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. "What about Layla?"

"What about her? I'd just broke up with her ass and told her I wanted to talk to you. I figured you'd be willing to reconsider getting with me. She kept begging me to forgive her and take her back." He shook his head. "Only a few of the bullets went through her and hit him. Useless."

Suddenly, she felt numb. He didn't care. He'd carelessly used someone who loved him as a quick means of survival.

"I turned to duck behind the counter and he shot me in the back. I think he was aiming at my head, but - "

His words cut off suddenly, and he weakly struggled against her. She pushed the pillow down even harder. He couldn't use his hands to push her away, only shake his head from side to side. She shifted her hands over his face, hoping to cut down any chance he had of drawing in air through the pillow. She pictured Layla's smiling face, as she'd last seen it that night, tired but smiling nonetheless. How could someone so full of life and love care about someone like this? How could someone who never so much as put a toe out of line give her life for someone who treated her with the same amount of respect he'd give a stray animal? Where was the justice in the world? And Jamien. She'd blamed him, called him a monster. At least he had a heart.

The monitors began going off, pulling her out of the darkest corner of her mind. She backed away from the bed, still holding the pillow. He didn't move. Hearing the clattering of footsteps and machines, she quickly backed out of the room and darted down the hallway. She dumped the pillow into a basket being pushed by a hospital housekeeper and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath before stepping outside.

'After a while, you get tired of people taking things from you.'

She looked up at the darkening sky. He was right. She was tired of people taking things from her. She looked down at her hands. Though they were clean, to her they were stained red with blood. She'd never be able to get them clean. Yet, she didn't regret what she'd done. Layla's death had taken a huge toll on her life, in more ways than one. Wasn't it about time someone answered for that? If she couldn't bring Layla back, and she couldn't get over losing her, then shouldn't she have done something to ease her mind and heart?

She smiled.

Somehow, in some twisted way, she finally felt better, finally felt at peace. No, she would never see Layla again. She could accept that painful fact now that she knew, for sure, that the person responsible for her death was no longer breathing. An eye for an eye.

'I didn't kill her...' Well, he wasn't lying.

"Denitra?"

She started to turn around when a foul-smelling cloth pressed down over her mouth and nose. Still weak from her sickle cell crisis and battle with Mike, it was hard for her to put up a good fight. It wasn't long before someone tossed her into the back of a van where she finally lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. The screams of frightened citizens seemed to echo down the streets, coming from everywhere at once. The cool fall air did little to combat the natural rise in body temperature as people dodged bullets and threw punches. Bodies of citizens, gang members, police and STAG officers littered the streets, an obvious and painful reminder that the city was at war with itself. Steelport had fallen to the gates of hell, hoping against hope for a miracle of some sort to restore peace. When things got this bad, it was always the least likely person the world had to depend on...

However, today was really a bad day.

Really.

And that wasn't because Shaundi had suddenly gone missing - again - or because every gang member in Steelport was engaged in some sort of gunfight with STAG or an opposing gang member.

No.

It was because he couldn't find his fucking cigarettes.

The absence of nicotine in his daily diet made him a little less than friendly. He hadn't had time for coffee that morning. Right when he was going to make him some in the Saints' HQ kitchen, a fucking VTOL parked itself rather violently in the penthouse's pool. Who the fuck does that?! His patience had run out long ago when he last dealt with Denitra. Though it'd only been a few days since he last saw her, it felt like an eternity. It'd taken a lot of Jack Daniels, shots of vodka, and blunts to dull the pain and convince himself to move the fuck on.

He felt a twinge of pain in his chest as he fired bullets in rapid succession into a Luchadore's face. He checked to make sure he hadn't been shot again. No. No bullet wound. He stifled a sigh and turned, pistol-whipping another Luchadore who'd been ready to shoot him in the back of the head. The pain in his chest persisted, and he cursed, hating himself. She wasn't even thinking about him. She'd been able to turn away and leave, didn't even bother to give him one last full look at her. So why in the hell was it so hard to let her go? He took his anger out on a STAG officer, shooting the poor man in his nuts before delivering a well-aimed kick to the same place, killing the man. It was cold, he knew, but it was how he felt deep down. Cold. And he'd been unable to get warm over the weekend.

He really needed a cigarette or a piece of gum.

It wasn't long before he faced STAG tanks. Normally, he'd be outraged that they'd brought a tank to a gunfight, but today, he couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck. He'd already revealed that he'd read Jane Eyre thirteen times. Whatever. Bring it on. He had a cigarette to go find. He raced over to the Criminal that he and Pierce had used to drive Oleg to the fights in the city that Kinzie directed them to in some effort to save the city and pulled out the rocket launcher he'd been itching to use since Friday.

"Kaboom." He whispered right before firing at an approaching tank. He got satisfaction from blowing something up, but this time, it just wasn't enough. He gripped the weapon a little tighter and fired again, this time hitting an N-Forcer. Finally acknowledging and embracing his bloodlust, he started firing randomly, hitting just about everything and everyone. When he'd finally run out of rockets, the area was clear. But before he could even think about patting himself on the back for not accidentally killing Pierce or Oleg, he noticed that more tanks and N-Forcers were on the way. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse, his phone rang.

"Killbane's planning on leaving Steelport!" Angel De La Muerte sounded every bit as agitated as Jamien felt.

'Well, of course, why not?' "You've got to be fucking kidding me." He growled, unleashing a spray of bullets on a Luchadore-filled Criminal that skidded around a corner followed by three Luchadore Bulldogs.

"He's at the airport - there isn't much time!"

"Angel - " What the fuck was he supposed to do, teleport there?

"No! I can't let him win. We can't let him win." Obsessed much? Ugh, he needed that cigarette like he needed to breathe.

Like he needed Denitra...

Brain mattered showered the pavement as he dropped his empty gun and picked up his dead enemy's weapon. He needed to get his shit together. Bullets and missiles were flying everywhere, and yet it took every bit of mental strength he had to get the woman out of his head. But she was so frustrating! She wouldn't listen to reason, didn't even try to understand, and worst of all, had satisfied one last whim that haunted his dreams.

'I'd love you with every bit of me...'

Every bit, huh? As he yanked open the door to an N-Forcer and slammed the passenger's head in the frame, he chuckled to himself. She really was a hopeless romantic. He didn't need or even want every bit, just enough to keep her near. Just a small taste to warm his heart again. He realized not long after he left her behind at Three Count that she held his humanity. When she was with him, he valued life more than he usually did, and not just because of those he'd lost along the way, but because she gave him something to hope for.

Ah, hell. He sounded like some lovesick puppy. He promptly turned and shot someone - STAG or Luchadore, he wasn't sure - then made a break for the car closest to him.

"Angel, just hold on until I get there - " His phone beeped, indicating that the call had ended. "Damn it." He really hoped Angel wouldn't try to take Killbane down on his own. That big burly sonofabitch was a two-man job. His phone rang again as he slid into a green and black Criminal. Did Angel hang up by accident?

"Hello, Saint." A woman's cold voice filled his ear. She sounded familiar. What was the bitch's name? Ah... Whatever it was, she was the one Cyrus was fucking. Ew.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You're gonna arrest us. Big fucking deal." He slammed his foot down on the gas, causing the tires to screech loudly in protest as they tried to gain traction on the pavement before shooting off, mowing down the Luchadores coming to take their vehicle back. Blood splattered on the windshield and he flipped the switch, clearing the window with fluid and the wipers. If he hurried, he could make it to the airport in just enough time...

"I don't want to arrest you; it won't solve anything. People need to wake up and see the threat that scum like you are to innocent people. Once you blow up Magarac Island, the whole world will see your true colors."

The fuck's this bitch on? "I don't mean to disappoint you, bitch, but the Saints aren't about domestic terrorism."

"We'll see how many people believe that when Shaundi and Viola are found in the wreckage." Once again, the line disconnected. Jamien tossed his phone out the window, still headed towards the airport. Fuck it, this shit ended now. Killbane had a hand in Johnny's death. He'd also been the one to fuck with Denitra's head.

That bastard's time was up.

Kia ended the call and pocketed the phone. Due to rank and a sense of duty, Cyrus' hands were tied when it came to dealing with the Saints. He could only do so much without being considered a terrorist himself. But Kia knew better. To deal with terrorists, you had to become one.

"Bitch, you've lost your fucking mind! You're gonna blow up the statue?!" Shaundi screeched, squirming helplessly on her stomach with her hands tied behind her back like the others.

"It's something the Saints would do."

"When have we ever blown up something?!"

"The bridge." She replied simply.

"Everyone believes the Saints did that." Burt Reynolds grunted; the ropes were cutting into his skin. "There were a lot of people on that bridge, kiddo."

"So, then you're gonna leave us here to die?" Viola asked, calmly accepting the hopeless situation - she missed Kiki terribly.

"I'm not going anywhere. A murdered STAG officer and civilian at the hands of the Saints will do wonders for the press."

"Civilian?" Shaundi looked around. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kia smiled. She walked over to a long, heavy brown sack and dragged it over to Shaundi. The top of it came undone and Shaundi gasped, unable to force the scream from her throat.

Denitra seemed to be at peace, a small smile curving her lips. Shaundi looked at her chest, straining to be calm and still long enough to see if she was breathing. To her own surprise, her eyes watered with joy when she realized the girl was alive, just unconscious. Just as quickly as the joy had come, sorrow washed over her. "If she dies here, it'll destroy Boss." She looked up at Kia. "You didn't tell him she was here, too."

Kia nodded. "I'm not stupid. If I did, he'd come here. What good would it do me to plan all of this to get the outcome I want if he died here, too? No one would believe he simply fucked up trying to destroy the statue. If the girl dies here, then the Mayor of Stilwater will be on a warpath. Your boss won't even be welcome back home."

"You bitch. How do you know he won't come here for me and Viola?"

"Because, I struck a little deal with Killbane. My enemy's enemy is my friend." She stared at Viola pointedly. "Isn't that right?"

Viola narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

Click. "Glad to see the party didn't start without me."

Shaundi turned her head, eyes wide with shock. "Boss!"

Kia snatched up Denitra, shaking her a few times to wake her and make her support her own weight. She whipped out a pistol and pressed it to the girl's temple. "I'm surprised you came."

"Fate told me to turn my ass around. There was this massive accident on the freeway and I figured that by the time I got to the airport, Killbane would be long gone. No offense, you guys. He was a scratch I've been dying to itch."

"None taken. You got your ass here, and that's all I really care about." Mayor Reynolds huffed.

"Still you came. You're supposed to let them die." She took a step back, away from Shaundi and the other hostages, pulling a dazed Denitra with her.

Jamien kept his gun trained on Kia, waiting for that crucial second to pull the trigger. He knew from experience that once a dog tasted fresh blood, you had to put it down. Kia was no exception to that rule. "I don't leave my crew to die."

"Really? Lin. Carlos. Aisha. Johnny. All you do is let your friends die!" She pressed the gun into Denitra's head a little harder, causing her to whimper in pain.

"Bitch." He hissed taking a step towards them. "I'm gonna fuck you up." He reached into his pocket and fished out a small vile with yellow-green liquid sloshing around inside. The shit was rancid, but it would work for him. He threw it and it hit the ground, breaking near Kia's feet.

"What the - You missed." She opened her mouth to say something else, but her eyes widened and she promptly released Denitra, who stumbled backwards towards the unprotected edge, then threw up. As he fired at her, he realized he should have brought his armor-piercing rounds - what she had on looked thicker than what the normal STAG officers wore.

"As Mayor, I order you to win this fight." Mayor Reynolds called out.

Jamien's eyes widened, once again star-struck, then turned deadly serious. "Gotcha, bitch." He aimed his gun at Kia and the second she stood upright, he shot her in the throat, blood and vomit spilling from it.

Her eyes shot open, shocked, and she grabbed her throat. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. She staggered backwards towards the edge.

Jamien didn't realize it until it was too late.

Kia grabbed Denitra's shirt and fell over the edge, yanking the girl down with her. "Shit!" Jamien yanked his knife out of his pocket, flipped it open and threw it down on the ground in front of Shaundi. "Cut yourself loose then free them."

"Um, how?"

"Figure it out!" He yelled, making a mad dash for the side of the statue then jumping off, arms extended outwards as if he could fly. He could hear Denitra's frantic screams before he spotted her flailing body. Within minutes he had her in his arms and deployed his parachute. It was a good thing he listened to Kinzie and had taken the one she offered him.

As they drifted slowly down, the smell of baby lotion and hairspray overwhelmed him. It hurt to admit this would probably be the last time he held her. He felt her nails dig into his skin slightly as her eyes, wild with fear, looked around. Oh, yeah. She was afraid of heights. He held her tighter, inhaling her scent. He'd never get over her. That was obvious now. The tricky part would be living with that fact. He closed his eyes. He wouldn't be able to watch her walk away again.

The second their feet hit the ground, his mind was made up. He'd do it this time. As he shrugged out of the straps of the parachute, she stood in front of him, fidgeting and picking at her fingernail polish. 'Do it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.'

"Jay - "

"I'm sorry." He blurted out.

She blinked. "Huh? What for? You just saved my life!" She gestured towards the statue. "I-I owe you my life."

"I don't want it anymore." He shoved the words out, and the pain in his chest doubled in strength.

"What?" She stared at him in disbelief. She didn't think he'd chase her forever, did she? "What does that - "

"I never apologized for what happened to Layla. I'm sorry. I can't take it back, and I'm not entirely sure I would if I could. But, for whatever it's worth to you, I am sorry. And I spent a lot of time thinking. You were right. We couldn't fit in each other's world, not without someone changing, if even a little bit. You wouldn't even kill a fly - "

Her eyes widened. "No, wait - " She raised her hands to put them on his chest but he grabbed them, stopping her.

"No, I want you to actually listen to me this time. You don't want anything to do with me? That's fine. If I had really gone to the airport like I was determined to do, you wouldn't be standing here right now. Seeing you in her arms with a gun to your head finally drove that point you'd been trying to make home. I can only protect you so as long as I know you need protecting. I think, if I just let you go, then maybe we'll both be safe."

"Damn it, will you shut - "

He silenced her with his lips, in one final kiss. When she'd finally stopped trying to talk and fight him, he pulled back then kissed her forehead. "Take care of yourself, will you?"

"Jay..." She whispered weakly, tears filling her eyes and spilling out onto her cheeks.

He wiped one away with a sad smile and turned towards his approaching lieutenants. He shoved his hands in pockets. "Let's go home."

They had nearly made it to the island's docks when STAG officers surrounded the trio, aiming shotguns at their heads. "Hold it right there." A voice called out. Cyrus approached them quickly, barely containing his anger.

Jamien's bullshit meter was busted. He'd had enough for the day. "Unless the next thing outta your hole is 'thank you, we got a serious fucking problem." He hissed, balling up his fists and taking a step towards the man. Shaundi put a hand on his shoulder as Pierce slid in between them.

"They have a point, Commander." To Jamien's surprise, Senator Monica Hughes approached them quickly parting through the gathering crowd of reporters with even more of them hot on her heels. "Like it or not, the Saints are heroes." She smiled at the cameras.

"Are you shitting me, Lady?" Cyrus hissed.

She dared to take a step closer to him, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper. "You declared martial law and knocked down half of the city. The Saints just saved a treasured monument. Who the fuck do you think the public will side with?" She spun on her heel and greeted the press with a loving, welcoming smile. "I can answer any questions."

Jamien watched her lead the reporters away then started to walk off again when Cyrus stopped him. "They can give you the key to the goddamn city, but as soon as you screw up, we'll be back. And next time, STAG is gonna put you down."

Jamien let out a short, loud chuckle and patted Cyrus on the cheek. "Aw, I love you too, Cyrus." He stepped around him and continued on. Each step seemed harder to take than the last. There was a bottle of Jack somewhere calling his name.

"So what's the plan, Boss? We go back to bangin' in Stilwater?" Pierce asked concerned about the gang's direction since Jamien had declared last week that the Saints were through with being pampered commercial whores.

"Not - " He surged forward suddenly, nearly toppling over the stair railing and into the water. There was a tight squeeze around his stomach and looked over his shoulder to see who had tackled him. "What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry!" An unrecognizable voice squeaked out then his body started shaking, as if he were the one crying so hard.

"The fuck - " He twisted from side to side, trying to turn around, but couldn't. The person had a death grip on him. "Dammit, one of you help me." He spat at Pierce and Shaundi as he tried to pry the locked hands apart.

"Let go." He heard Pierce whisper.

"But..." Suddenly, he was free. He whipped around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind - being manhandled by groupies was his number one pet peeve - but stopped.

Denitra stood there, head down, tears falling off of her chin. "I'm sorry..."

"What?" Jamien blinked, shocked and confused. "Sorry for what?"

She looked up at him, trying to speak clearly. "I overreacted. I found out you didn't kill Layla." She looked down again and started picking at her nails. "I should have listened to you."

It felt like a two-ton weight had been lifted off of his back. He smiled. "You don't really have to apologize. If it had been me and someone hurt you, I don't think I'd be willing to listen either." He shrugged and turned away. "She meant the world to you, so I understand."

"But you mean the world to me, too. I don't want to lose you either."

He froze. Scratch that. He'd skip the Jack. Apparently, the alcohol was affecting his brain. But just to be sure, he turned back to Denitra. "Did you say something?"

She looked at him, then frowned for a second. "Nothing short of 'I love you, jackass'. I know I gave you hell, but damn, I did say I'm sorry. You're supposed to just take me in your arms and say 'I forgive you', not make fun of me. You - "

His jaw dropped open in disbelief as she continued ranting, raving, and cursing. Warmth exploded his chest, chasing the pain away. Was she serious?

"Oof!" She grunted as he crushed her smaller frame to his. He buried his face in her hair, gently stroking it. "Jay - "

"Do you mean it? Do you want to be with me?"

She stopped, then relaxed. "Yeah, I really do." She whispered, putting her arms around him and holding him tightly. "I don't know why I ever tried to fight it."

Chapter Text

*A Month Later*

Denitra had been really surprised with the dinner. She had no idea he could even boil water, much less cook a full meal. As she finished up the last of her lava cake sundae, she noticed Jamien was staring at her with a soft look in his eyes.

"What?" She licked her spoon clean then set it down.

"There's something I want to give you, Dee." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small black rectangular box. "I think it suits you."

"A bracelet?" She looked at the box, eyes sparkling in the candlelight. "When did you pick this out?"

He shrugged. "The day after you left me at Anabelle's. When I saw it, I thought maybe you'd change your mind about everything if I gave it to you. I mean, I'm not saying that I thought I could buy your love or anything. I just..." He stopped and put his head in his hands, took a deep breath then sat up straight. "Seeing you walk away, and really mean it, hurt. I don't like the idea of not having you with me. I don't like the idea of you not loving me. You make me vulnerable, but the only person who could ever use you to hurt me is you. I mean, ah, you turn my brain into pudding when I try to be sincere and deep; everything comes out all wrong and tastes funny."

She laughed. "Tastes funny, J?"

He scowled at her. "Don't laugh at me, woman. I'm trying to pour my heart out to you and shit."

She laughed even harder. "You don't have to pour your heart out. I think I have a good idea what you're trying to say."

His expression immediately changed to one she couldn't read. "I really doubt you do, baby." He pushed the box towards her. "Open it."

She smiled and reached for the box. "Does it have charms on it? Or can I put charms on it?"

"No." He smiled. "It doesn't need anything on it, trust me."

She opened the box and fell silent. Inside the box, nestled in the center of the white velvet cushion, sat a heart-shaped diamond engagement ring.

"What do you think?" He folded his arms on the table and leaned towards her. "Nice, huh?"

She looked down at the ring, up at him, then back again. "Jay, is this - "

"Will you marry me?" He held her free hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "I don't want to influence your decision, but please say yes."

Her jaw dropped. "You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"We haven't even known each other for more than a year!"

"Since when does time dictate love?" He touched her cheek. "I love you. Time won't change that, except maybe make it stronger. So, if I know this is what I want, why should I wait? What difference will it make if I asked you now as opposed to a year from now? Tomorrow isn't promised to us; I don't want to die regretting that I didn't have you as my wife. Do you love me?"

"Yes, but - "

"No 'buts'. It's a yes or no question."

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. "Yes, I love you."

"If you love me and I love you, then why can't we, mature adults, get married?"

"It's too soon." She thought about it. "Or, maybe it's all of a sudden to me. Of all the things I expected from you, this wasn't on the list."

"So, exceeding your expectations, am I?" He smirked. "Tell you what. How about you take some time and think about all of this, get used to the idea of us being married before we actually do it?"

Where had she heard that before... "Then, I might as well say yes."

He smiled brightly, standing up to lean over the table, pressing his lips to hers. "Now you're catching on."