Free The Strange Path by D Jordan Redhawk Page B

glass. And Lena gave me a teddy bear.”
    “Sounds cool. Is it a pipe or a bong?” Whiskey asked, bending over to rummage in her pack.
    “Pipe, a little one. But it’s shaped like a dolphin.”
    Whiskey winked at her. “You and your dolphins, amiga .”
    Gin gave her a light punch on the arm. “Better than vampires or werewolves, chica !”
    Considering her recent meeting with Fiona, Whiskey’s smile faltered. She forced away the desire to glance around the bar for Sanguire. Don’t be stupid. She handed Gin the birthday card. “Here. For you. Happy belated birthday.”
    With a pleased expression, Gin pushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear, and took the envelope. “Thank you!” She made a production of opening it up, calling the attention of a couple of her street family to the proceedings.
    Whiskey glanced beyond to see Ghost watching. Bastard.
    “Where’d you get this kind of cash, chica ?”
    She turned her attention back to Gin who held the money in one hand. Behind her a kid craned his neck to see past the others. Whiskey recognized him as one of Ghost’s newbies. He claimed to be sixteen, but didn’t look a day over twelve. His face was partially covered by a large strawberry birthmark—the others called him Spot. “Hit the jackpot last night. Found some rich punks that had money, and wanted to go slumming. That’s the last of it right there.” She stuck out one foot to reveal the boots. “Got these today.” The new leather sparkled in the strobe lights.
    More of Gin’s street family paid attention to the conversation, glancing from the boots to the money in Gin’s hand.
    “So, you got the boots. Anything else?”
    Whiskey nodded, and shed her denim jacket. “Yeah. Check it out.” She removed her sweatshirt, and showed off her dragon.
    Several spectators whistled. “Wow. That’s good work.” She took Whiskey’s hand to turn her arm. “How much did it cost?”
    “Over seven hundred for the outline and shading. Maybe someday I’ll scrape up enough to have it colored in.”
    The spotted kid pushed forward, jarring one of the others. “You just got this last night? It looks like it’s a week old.” The person he shoved aside punched him in the arm, and he glared at the perpetrator.
    Whiskey stared at the wine-colored birthmark. Dominick, that’s his name. Most of the members of Ghost’s street family were jerks. This brat was fast becoming her least favorite. “I heal fast.”
    “You’re a liar.”
    The throbbing music followed the same beat as Whiskey’s heart. She didn’t dare look away from Dominick or his challenge, but she didn’t know what to do. The kid was raw—he’d been on the streets a month or so—and had a lot to prove to his street father. She could kick his ass in a fight, but would that cause Ghost to retaliate against her? The politics of the situation were too fragile.
    “Shut the fuck up, caja .” Gin stood to confront him, looking him in the eye. “She was with us in the flop two nights ago, and didn’t have it then. What are you? Stupid?”
    He obviously didn’t know Spanish, or he would have immediately hit Gin for the insult. A few of the others did understand the slur, and laughed. He puffed out his chest, posturing, preparing to throw a swing at Gin. Whiskey edged between them.
    “What’s going on?”
    Dominick turned to see Ghost behind him. He went from tough guy to adolescent in the space of a second. “She called me stupid and another name in Spanish, but I don’t know what it was.”
    “That’s because you are stupid, Spot.” Ghost slapped Dominick, knocking him down.
    Others in Ghost’s family remained where they were, not offering their fallen comrade any assistance as he staggered back to his feet. Blood swelled at the corner of his mouth. He glared at Gin and Whiskey, but stormed away from the table.
    Gin stepped into Ghost’s arms with a smile. “ Gracias, mi corazón .”
    Whiskey watched as her best friend sucked up