Chewing on a piece of straw, I’ve been sitting on this bench a few feet away from Chuck’s Bar for a few good hours now. It’s not without reason. I’m waiting for a particularly stinky guy by the name of Gunboy or Pimpled Little Shit. I’ve beaten his ass twice now, and I think it’s time for a third.

Maybe this time, he’ll learn his lesson.

With a smug grin on my face, I keep a watchful eye, waiting for the little turd to arrive. I know it’s the middle of the day, but that never stopped the assholes from showing up uninvited. They did it before; they’ll certainly try again.

I just hope Chuck will let me have them.

I mean they’ve fucked up his place and scared away his customers, so I doubt he’ll be happy to see them. Not that it’ll stop them from messing shit up again, which is where I come in to play.

And the moment I see a familiar car roll up and a certain Pizzaface come out, I murmur, “Gotcha.”

Whistling, I get up from the bench and stroll to the bar, precisely the place he’s heading. I’m only five minutes behind, which is the perfect amount of time for an ambush that’ll make the pimples drop from his face. Maybe he’ll be a prettier boy when I’m done with him. I’ll smack those pimples right off.

Spitting out the straw, I look at the picture of my son one last time before I cross the street.

Once again, a preacher and a criminal walk into a bar. My life is just one giant joke.

Especially when I see Gunboy turn his head toward me and watch as his eyes almost pop out at the sight of me standing in the doorway.

Chuck frowns as he glares at both of us and growls, “Nuh-uh, no sir, not today.” He snatches away the glass he just put down for Pimpleface and barks, “Get out.”

“Fuck,” the shithead says.

“Yeah, fuck’s about right.” I cross my arms. “If you don’t come with me now, I’m gonna fuck your life up so badly that you won’t be able to shit for weeks.”

He jumps off his seat and scrambles away, trying to hide in a corner, but that ain’t going to save his ass. No way. He’s mine.

“Frank!” Chuck yells as I approach the boy. “Not again.”

“Sorry, Chuck, but I got a bit of a thing going on with this one.”

Right as I grab his collar, Chuck roars, “Take it outside, for crying out loud.”

I roll my eyes and sigh, still holding Gunboy who’s whimpering with his eyes closed. “C’mon, fuckwad,” I growl, dragging him with me. “See ya, Chuck,” I say, as I walk past him.

“Rather not,” he muses, making me chuckle as I haul the boy outside.

“Let me go!” he cries out as I pull him along to an alley not far ahead.

“Shut your trap,” I bark, glancing over my shoulder. “You and I have business.”

“I didn’t do fuck nothing,” he says.

“Who are you trying to fool? The Queen of England?” I spit, as I throw him into the dead-end alley. “Do I look like an old turd to you?”

He scowls. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

I raise a brow. “Oh, please, like you ever had a chance.”

When he tries to run, I shove him right back into his corner and growl, “Sit.” Because he’s a fucking dog, and he needs to listen.

“You think you could get away with firing a gun in my fucking church?”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It was just a job.”

“A job? To scare the living shit out of my mother?”

“Your mother?” He frowns. “That old hag?”

I pick up a rock and throw it at his face, making him yowl in pain. It leaves a big red mark, and a bloody streak across his forehead. “Learn some fucking manners, will ya?”

“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?” he screams.

“What’s wrong with me?” I point at myself and snort. “I wasn’t the one pointing a gun at a preacher.”

“I already told you it was a job!”

I come closer and corner him. “Who gave it to you?”

He crawls back against the wall. “Some dude in the gang. I don’t know his name.”

“Lie.” I pick him up by his collar and hold out my fist. “See this pretty here?” I glance at my knuckles. “They’re eager to say hi to your face.”

“No, no, please.”

“Then talk,” I growl, and I pull the picture of my son from my pocket. “You asshats dropped this in my church. How did you get this?”

He looks at it in confusion. “I don’t know.”

I shake him. “I’m not playing games. Tell me. Now!”

“All right, all right, I got it from the same guy who gave me the job. Told me to go find you and give you a good scare.”

“You mean beat the shit out of me.”

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

“What about the picture?”

“I dunno; they just wanted me to drop it so you’d see it. They didn’t tell me why.”

“Who? Give me a name.”

“Sergio from the butcher’s shop in the next town. You know.”

Yeah, I know the place.

Grinding my teeth, I mull it over for a second. “Is he there right now?”

“I dunno; I’m only a gang member. I don’t know nothing,” he says.

His innocent act gets me so worked up that I shove him back against the wall. “Listen up, fuckface. You’re going to stop doing work for those gangs right now.”

“What?” His jaw drops. “What the fuck? You’ve gotta be joking, right?”

“I’m not messing around. I’m done with you and your pal shitting on my neighborhood. You want money? Go find some honest work like the rest of us.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. “I need this.”

“No. You need the money, but you’re just not willing to work for it,” I snarl. “What a lazy piece of shit you are.”

“Lazy? Fuck you; I’m not lazy,” he growls, pushing me away. “Who are you anyway? Some goddamn preacher doesn’t know shit about the street.”

I grasp his collar and shove him right back against the wall. “I’ve been in your position. I was a gang member before you could even piss straight. Don’t think you know everything, you little shithead. Have some respect for your elders.”

He laughs. “Elders. Right.”

“Shut up,” I growl. “You don’t get to laugh. I’m sick of your shit. You’d better not show your face in Chuck’s bar or my church ever again.”

“Or what?” He raises a brow, challenging me.

Since he’s asking for it, I might as well show him.

So I make a fist and pummel him right in the balls.

He squeals like a girl, grabbing his nuts. When I move away, he falls to his knees, rolling onto his side as he grimaces.

“Or that,” I reply, enjoying the sight of seeing him roll around in the dirt. “That’s only the warning shot. I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve. Wanna try me?”

“No …” he hisses. His throat’s still clamped shut, probably from the pain surging through his body.

“You sure?” I smile. “I’m never opposed to a bit of kinky fisticuffs when the occasion arises. Maybe you could invite your buddy too; that way we can see if you actually have any balls underneath all that bullshit.”

“Fuck you!” he curses as I turn around.

I wave and laugh as I walk away. “Yeah, good luck with that!”

Time to go to my next victim.

However, right as I pass by Chuck’s Bar, I hear a familiar voice call out for me.

“Frank?”

I stop and turn to see Laura standing in Chuck’s doorway. It looks like she came running out after she saw me.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I could ask you the same,” I reply, pointing at the building behind her. “Drinking in the middle of the day? That’s unlike you.”

She puts her hand on her side. “I wasn’t. I work here now. My shift starts in a couple of minutes.”

“Oh …” Well, that’s a new one. Never expected Chuck to hire girls. Then again … it sounds just like something that old dirtbag would love.

I shrug. “Well, good luck.” I turn and start walking again, but she follows me and grabs my arm, making me stop again.

“Wait. Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Why?”

She makes a face. “I know you’re doing something stupid.”

“Stupid? Who, me?” I raise a brow.

“Stop joking.” She playfully slaps my arm. “You’ve been acting weird since those two dudes showed up at the church.”

I swallow, being reminded of what they said in church … and that she’s Julio’s daughter.

“It’s not something that concerns you.” I try to shake her off, but she won’t let go.

“Yes, it does. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” I reply. “I’ll be fine.”

“So you admit it …”

“Admit what?”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re up to something.”

I snort. “It’s nothing good, so don’t ask.”

“Are you going to hurt people?”

I nod.

“You can’t just … kill people, Frank,” she says under her breath.

“No?” I retort. “Watch me.”

“There must be another way,” she says.

“They had a picture of my son,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s personal now.”

Again, I try to leave, and she clings to me, making me turn around and sigh. “You can’t stop me from doing this, Laura. No one can.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” I stand still as she wraps her arms around me and impulsively hugs me. I’m overwhelmed by her warmth even after the cold shoulder I gave her. How can I not feel guilty?

“This is crazy …” she murmurs.

I agree.

I don’t want to walk away. I don’t want her to stop.

But I know I have to do this. “Maybe crazy is the only way I can function right.”

“I don’t believe that.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. Anything I say is wrong, and we both know it. Besides, I don’t want to get into it right now. I’ve got other things on my mind, and I think she can tell.

She pulls away and says, “Give me your phone.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

Reluctantly, I hand it over, wondering what she wants with it. She pushes a few buttons and then hands it back to me. “You’ve got my number now, so call me if you get into trouble.”

“Okay.” Well, that was surprising.

She hugs me again, almost squeezing the air out of me. As she lets go, she rubs her lips and says, “I’ll drop by the church later. See if you’re okay.”

It’s not a question, so I guess I have no choice in the matter.

When I turn around and start walking again, she yells, “Will you get hurt?”

“I’ll try not to,” I say.

“Be careful.”

Her comment makes me smile, and I don’t fucking know why.

I shouldn’t feel this way about his fucking daughter … yet I do.

Goddamn this fucking heart of mine.