Kian
Gia borrowed a spare pair of jeans and a pair of Claw's stinking old boots to ride home in. The second we reached my apartment, her eyes scoured around the lively streets like she was anxious to be out in the open. The guys from the opposite apartment were burning a pile of mail and newspapers in an old rusty trash can. I curled my fingers back and forth, signaling her to take off the boots. She did as I instructed, and I hurled them into the flames, glad to be rid of them. For a shitty back street alley, the ground was clear of splintered glass and debris thanks to Gunner being such a neat freak. At least she wouldn't cut her feet on the asphalt.
“Here we are. Home sweet home," I indicated, pointing to the iron staircase at the back of the tattoo shop. They zigzagged all the way up
