Author's Note: Hello again. After a prolonged absence, I am happy to announce that Chris' story has been completed. I will be posting as frequently as time allows. Please feel free to contact me with advice and praise, and thanks to all who read this after reading the first one (if you haven't, I recommend you do, otherwise this will be very difficult to follow). Chapter one and two have been replaced. Enjoy!

"Chris!" Zach shouted across the room, snapping my mind back to the locker-room and away from my brothers, where it often found itself. I ignored him as I shoved my work clothes into my locker and pulled my coat on. But Zach was never put off. "We need to talk."

I slammed the door and eyed my boss suspiciously. "What about?"

He smiled and leaned easily against the row of cold—no heat down here—metal doors. "Customers have been real pleased with you."

I looked away and zipped my jacket. "Great," I mumbled, shoving by him.

"So…don't you want to work more?"

"No."

"Right, you're low risk."

"Exactly."

"You can make twice as much as you are now."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because."

"...you're scared."

I swallowed and looked away. Hell yes, I was scared. Terrified. Always.

Oh Steve…this…customer…

I crossed the room to one of the sinks and cranked the water on, splashing freezing liquid over my face. Inky-black slid between my fingers and splashed the white of the basin. I tried to ignore Zach's stare.

I'd almost told Steve everything. I'd never come so close as that one night—the worst night. Mike had been there when I opened the door, gazing at me with those big, innocent, frightened eyes, worried but too shy to pursue it. Steve had been sleeping; he was ever exhausted between my younger brother and me. He rotated our crisis.

I can help you. But you've got to tell me.

"So the hospital," Zach said, lighting a cigarette, "how much did all that set you back?"

"We'll handle it," I answered, turning off the tap and snatching a handful of paper towels to dry my face off.

Nice job you've done handling things so far.

Steve had barely been able to retain custody of Mike; Ron had fought tooth and nail to get him to go to his house right then, without the court hearing we had been promised. Mike had finally come out into the hallway and begged to go home with us, and the social worker Ron had dragged along had finally consented to allow Steve to remain sole guardian, for the time being.

For the time being really meant that before long we're going to lose him, I thought as I stalked across the cement floor, following my boss. And then this—

—is all for nothing.

"You could make lots more than you are right now, Chris. And don't bullshit me. You need the money."

"I told you already," I snapped, rising to my feet so I could look him straight in the eye. "No. I'm only here for a little while, 'till my Uncle backs off and we get some of our bills paid. And I can't get caught."

Zach grinned. "Why? Not like your brother is a cop or something."

I stood taller and kept my face blank. "No, he's not."

My employer shook his head, his curly red-brown hair swishing like a woman's. "You're too sure of yourself Chris. Don't underestimate me."

I didn't. He wasn't too much older than me, he had flunked out of school, he had run away from home, but my God he was sharp. He could figure out little things about a person's life just by watching them closely, and he had built this whole business on his own. And he knew his employees, even if you didn't want him to. I had watched him sign contracts on people's lives like they were test papers.

"I need workers," Zach was still hovering around me as I made for the stairs.

"So get some new ones."

"Why should I when I've got some good ones who need the cash?"

"I'm not interested."

Zach eyed me closely as he silently smoked his cigarette, blowing smoke out of the left side of his mouth. "What'd you say your last name was?"

"McGinley." I hadn't been stupid enough to tell him my real name when I signed up to work nights.

"You don't look Irish."

"My mother's Italian."

"And your Dad?"

"Dead."

"I meant nationality wise."

"He's dead. That's all you need to know about him."

Zach approached me and leaned in close. My heart picked up speed; he wasn't big by any means, but he was still the most frightening person I'd ever met. It was all the power he had behind him; power and not the slightest bit of compassion for any other human being besides himself.

"You lying to me?"

"No, but it's none of your business anyway," I snapped, sounding braver than I felt.

He smiled and backed up. "I like your attitude, Chris. You'd be good at power climbing." He looked me over and I shuddered. "You're certainly equipped for it."

"I'm—"

"Not interested. I know. But I'd give it some thought." He flashed me another grin, looking like a goblin with his narrow chin and low eyebrows. "I'll try to think of other ways to convince you."

I broke out in gooseflesh, turned and walked quickly up the stairs, feelings his eyes. I'd known all along that I might end up regretting this, but my God, I never thought it'd be this bad. If that bastard ever found out about my brothers…

Steve didn't raise his head from the pile of bills he was fighting his way through when I came in at one. I placed the three hundred dollars I'd collected for the night beside him and caught sight of the figures on Mike's hospital bill.

"Shit," I murmured. There was no other way to describe how much debt we were going be in.

"I've tried everything I could think of," Steve sighed. "Even with the payment plan they're offering us, we're in trouble. Because this isn't all of it; there's counseling, and the medication. Do you know how much antidepressants cost?"

"What's that mean for us?"

Steve slowly rubbed his eyes and leaned forward. He was acting much older than he was, but he couldn't help it at this point. The ordeal had worn him out. "We may have to move, sell whatever we can, maybe ask for money from the state..."

"We can't do that!" I snapped. "Not with Ron riding up our asses."

"...I could ask for a raise," Steve went on, "but not right now. I've missed too much work being with Mike."

I took my coat off and glanced toward the shut door leading to my brothers' bedroom. "He's asleep?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?" I remembered the night he overheard us arguing about my new job. He was too damn quiet.

"Positive. Otherwise he'd come sit with us."

"He might not."
"Trust me."

"You know him best now, right? And I'm just the jerk who pops up with cash once in awhile." I started toward my room. "I feel like the fuckin' ex-husband or something."

"Chris, don't. Please. I need you to help me right now. Mike's getting better, which is obviously good, but between the lawyer we need for Ron and the psychiatrist for Mike and the hospital...we may as well give up. Just let Ron take him at this point. Fighting's not going to get us anywhere."

"Shutup!" I snapped, whirling back around. "Maybe it's not doing us any good, but it's what he wants and we owe him, you know that. We both owe him for what he went through, because we weren't there. So if Mike wants to stay with us, he stays with us. No matter what. We need to prove that we're sorry."

Steve ran his fingers over the envelope I had placed beside him. "This new job...is it legal?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Chris."

"You're a cop for Christ's sake. I wouldn't do anything stupid."

Steve nodded, then looked straight at me. "Why not do it full time?"

I swallowed hard and searched desperately for a lie.

Might as well settle on some truth. For once.

"It's hard."

"What is?"

"The work."

Steve nodded again, slower. "We'll figure something out."

"How much of this are you telling Mike?"

He looked me straight in the face again. "Nothing. But he knows anyway." I nodded: Mike knew a lot without being told.

Zach would call him dangerous.