Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) by Marita A. Hansen Read Free Book Online

fuck up with this lot of coke.
I’ve got my own bills to pay.”
    I nodded. “I promise, man, I’ll make you a
profit.”
    “Good. And get some backup. I don’t want
you selling it by yourself. Ask Jasper to help.”
    I nodded again, although I had no
intention of asking Jasper, since he would demand a cut. I needed every last
cent—not a penny less.
    Hunter stared at me for a moment longer
than I felt comfortable with. It made me worry he was going to change his mind.
But luckily, he disappeared down the ladder, not going back on his word. Through
the trapdoor, I could see a long line of benches below. There were also hydroponic
glass containers and other apparatus he used to produce a variety of drugs.
Though, coke wasn’t one of them. He got that from a drug lord, who took a cut
from all his sales.
    Hunter emerged through the trapdoor,
climbing out of it. He was taller than me, just over six foot. He looked like a
Polynesian version of Ice Cube, with his beard, the LA cap on his head, as well
as his flannel shirt and blue jeans. He held out a bag of what looked like a few
grand’s worth of profit in white powder, one third my cut. I swiped it off him
and stuffed it into my backpack before he could change his mind.
    “I really appreciate this, cuz,” I said,
zipping up my bag.
    “You should.” His gaze moved to the
bandage above my eye. “You gettin’ into trouble again?”
    “Some dickheads jumped me, but I’m cool,
nuthin’ serious.”
    “You gimme their names and I’ll send some
guys round to sort them out.”
    “Nah, me and my mates will get ’em back.” I
lifted my chin up in a farewell. “I should get goin’.”
    He nodded. “Lemme walk you out.” He closed
the trapdoor and pulled the carpet over it, then herded me out of the garage,
locking the door behind us. He slung an arm over my shoulders and steered me past
my nephew’s playhouse. The washing line was full of cloth nappies and baby
clothes, my brother having a one-year-old.
    “You should come inside for some food and
say hi to your brother,” Hunter said, directing me to the back of the house.
    Although I was hungry as hell, I pulled
free from underneath his arm. “Nah, I’m good,” I replied, not wanting to see
Ash.
    Hunter’s face saddened. “C’mon, cuz, you
can’t keep avoiding him. I know you’re pissed off with him for tryna top
himself, but he’s better now.”
    “I’m not pissed off with him,” I said, I’m
angry with myself for letting him down.
    “Then, why are you ignoring him?”
    “I’m not.”
    “Tell that to someone who believes you,
cos I sure as hell don’t. So, come inside.”
    “Honestly, I really don’t have the time,”
I said, heading for the side of the house, wishing he would stop trying to thrust
Ash onto me. Every time I looked at my brother, it hurt like hell knowing I
could’ve prevented him from being raped by my stepfather. I could’ve also
prevented my mother from being killed. But it was too late to speak out about
what my stepfather had done to me... might’ve done to me. For all I
knew, it could’ve been a fevered hallucination. I had been sick at the
time. I continued down the driveway, preferring to think of it that way,
because if it was a hallucination, I had no reason to feel guilty. If anything,
I had no reason to even think about it at all, because it’s...
    “...not real,” I muttered.
    “What’s not real?” Hunter asked, following
me to the gate.
    “Nuthin’. See ya later,” I said without
looking back. I lifted my hand in farewell as I headed down the footpath,
leaving him behind with my brother, who needed me like a hole in the head.
    Within no time, I was back in Wera, cutting
across lawns and hoping over fences to get home quicker. As I rounded a
property, I stopped in my tracks at the sight of Happy Meal and his two mates across
the road. They were leaning against the wall of a dairy, passing a packet of
chips around in front of the shop. They were being