Read Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) for Free Online Page A

who promptly threw it at Chemist. Eden placed his hands behind his head, a stance that also exposed his forearms to the crew. He retained his calm but direct and unflinching eye contact with Homer, just as he had with Pummel, just as he had with Grayson and the others trying to beat him to death in the alley. Along with the array of numbers now revealed, that would warn them he had the self-possession of someone used to conflict, used to standing up for himself. And that, he hoped, would increase the inquisitiveness he needed to create in Pummel. It also created a small but satisfying edge of wariness in Homer as the con proceeded to frisk him.
    Guns in Blackthorn were rare, but knives were commonplace. Makeshift weapons were certainly frequent with the amount of iron and steel left lying around. But Eden wasn’t stupid enough to go in there with a weapon – just a small enticement he had gone to collect in the time he’d had between the girl leaving and him arriving there. Because there was only one way he was getting close to her again – and that was through Pummel.
    ‘He’s clean,’ Homer announced.
    ‘Except for this,’ Chemist declared, pulling the packet out of Eden’s inside jacket pocket.
    He tossed the clear plastic bag to Pummel whilst Homer resumed his wary attention on Eden who’d simultaneously dropped his hands casually back by his sides.
    It only took a tilt of Pummel’s head in the direction of the vacant seat opposite for Eden to know it wasn’t a request.
    Pummel threw the bag down on the table between them; gave Eden the quick once over as he watched him sit down. ‘Let’s take a proper look,’ he said off the back of a long exhale of his joint.
    Like sharing war wounds, Eden upturned his inner forearm to reveal the full extent of the tattooed row of numbers that spanned from wrist to elbow.
    Pummel’s eyes momentarily flared at what he would have deemed an impressive array of crimes even by his standards. ‘What’s your name, kid?’
    ‘Reece. Eden Reece. And I’m guessing you’re the one they call Pummel.’
    Holding Eden’s steady gaze, Homer resuming his seat, Pummel leaned back into the sofa again. ‘Just arrived, huh?’
    ‘And looking for a place to stay. I hear you’re the man to ask.’
    ‘And you hear right. But lodgings here aren’t free nor an entitlement.’
    ‘Nothing ever is.’
    Pummel nearly smiled at that. But Eden knew only too well that smiling wasn’t always a good sign.
    ‘Is that what this is about?’ Pummel asked, indicating at the plastic bag between them.
    ‘It’s a sample, yes.’
    Pummel raked his gaze slowly over Eden again. ‘That array on your arm tells me you’re trouble. Real trouble.’
    ‘I am. But I’m also real well connected – as you can see. I’ve no doubt you know how hard it is to get your hands on that around here.’
    Pummel stretched his free arm along the back of the sofa. ‘So you’re here to make a deal.’
    ‘And, lucky for you, you’re my first choice to make it with.’
    ‘Why me?’ Pummel asked.
    ‘I only work with the top of the food chain.’
    Pummel exhaled another steady stream from his joint. This time his hint of a smile revealed undeniable flattery. ‘And in return?’
    ‘Like I said, I need a place to stay.’
    ‘You strike me as the type that can look after themselves.’
    ‘As can you. But we both know the advantages of this kind of set-up.’
    Pummel’s eyes narrowed contemplatively. He exhaled a puff of smoke that formed a distinct hoop in the air. ‘You think you can handle working for me?’
    ‘I can handle working for whoever pays me the highest price.’
    Pummel leaned forward, poured himself a shot and poured one for Eden too, shoving the glass towards him with his chubby fingertips. ‘You’ve got guts, kid.’
    Eden leaned forward to accept the offering. ‘Enough to tell you I don’t like being referred to as a kid,’ he said, knocking the drink back in one, his gaze resting