by S. Ann Cole
“The life-or-death kind.”
Lexi
I pump my legs as fast as I can, the diamond necklace clutched tight in my fist. Hot, dry wind licks at my skin. The coiffured bun at my nape loosens each time my feet hit the ground, until it unravels, my hair tumbling from its coil and lifting with the wind.
I shoot a quick glance behind me and find the security guard still hot on my heels. I’m surprised at how fast he is considering his hulk-like size. But at five-foot-four and one hundred and thirty-six pounds, I’m faster.
I zip left and sprint out into moving traffic, ignoring the blaring horns and screeching tires. When I get to the other side of the street, I shoot another glance over my shoulder. The security guard is dipping and dodging through the traffic, fighting to get across.
Hurdling over a cinder block, I keep it moving. My legs and arms pump faster, my breath and energy waning. I dart up a ramp to a raised parking lot and duck low as I zig-zag behind vehicles, intermittently checking behind me for the security guard.
When I stumble upon an old convertible with the top down and the keys still in the ignition, it’s as if it’s my lucky day. I hop inside and am about to turn the key when pain stings across my scalp as I’m grabbed by my hair and yanked out of the car.
“Fuckin’ little thief!”
The security guard slams me against the car and backhands me across the face so hard I blank into fleeting darkness before stars light up that darkness like fireworks. I’ve never been hit so hard in my life. Is he even allowed to do that?
“Here! Take it! Take it!” I shriek, shoving the necklace at him. “I’m sorry!”
Grabbing the necklace, he glares down at me. “I’m gettin’ sick and fuckin’ tired of little bitches like you thinkin’ you can do shit like this and get away with it ‘cause you’re pretty.”
“No, no. I’m in a lot of trouble—”
“Shut the fuck up.” He wraps his fingers around my throat, tight, and hauls me up against him. “You’re comin’ with me, you little bitch. You’re lucky it’s daylight or I’d—grrtkk.” His eyes roll back in his head as his fingers loosen and fall from around my neck as he drops to the floor with a thud.
Wondering what on earth just happened, I stare down at him in utter bewilderment.
A familiar birdcall whistle hits my ears, and when I glance up, I realize who happened.
The window of the jeep that sandwiches us next to the convertible is down. And in the driver’s seat, holding a taser, is Trenton Garza.
“In trouble again, Hellcat?” he says with a bored expression. He shakes his head at me and orders, “Get in.”
When I stoop down to steal the necklace from the security guard’s hand, he growls out a firm, “No.”
“You don’t understand! I need it—”
“Get the fuck in, Lexi.”
After gnawing at my lip in contemplation for a few seconds, I decide leaving it is better than taking it. I would just be putting myself into one kind of deep shit to get out of another type of deep shit. If Glitz gets their diamond necklace back, there won’t be a reason to hunt me down to press charges.
So, swallowing my shame, I round the jeep and get in. Trent peels off before I even get the door closed.
Only when we’re out of the parking lot and in traffic does he reprimand, “Tell me you didn’t just attempt a jewelry dash.”
Face still aching, I flip down the visor and check in the mirror for bruises. Thankfully, there’s only an angry spread of red across my cheekbone. The last thing I want right now is to be walking around with a shiner.
To say I’m mortified is an understatement. Had it been anyone else who witnessed me getting caught after a failed jewelry dash, I wouldn’t have cared. But not a Garza brother. Especially Trent. It seems like every time I land myself in a bit of a pickle, he’s the one to show up out of nowhere, judging me and bossing me around. That’s why I’ve always ditched him; out of sheer embarrassment.
Gahhh.
“Lexi,” he prompts when I don’t respond.
“What?”
“Why did you do that? Do you need money?”
Scooping my hair back, I twist it then wrap it around into a tight but unsecured bun. “Outer downtown central.”
“Huh?”
“That’s where I want you to drop me off,” I say tersely. “Richmond’s Guest Apartments.”
“Fuck that. I’m not dropping you anywhere until you tell me why the hell I just had to save you from going to jail.”
“No one asked you to do anything, dude. You could’ve just minded your own damn business like everyone else.”
“Do you need money, Lexi?”
“Look, if you aren’t going to take me home, then let me off right over here.”
“Home? Fuck yeah, I’d be happy to take you home. Let’s spin this car around right now and take you straight home. Where you should be.”
“I see you’re still an asshole,” I mumble under my breath.
“And you’re still pigheaded as shit.”
I reach for the door handle to jump out, but it’s as if he anticipated it because he locks it from his side faster than I can pull the lever. I switch the lock open, but he just as quickly locks it again.
We repeat this over and over until I mumble a curse under my breath and give up. It’s useless. As long as he believes I need help, he isn’t going to let it go.
Like a pubescent teenager pissed from not getting her way, I cross my arms and sulk. “What were you doing in that parking lot anyway?”
“Ah, thanks for reminding me.” He reaches out and plucks his phone from its mount on the dashboard, punches in his password with his thumb, then tosses it in my lap. “Pull up Tiffany.”
Tiffany. Hmm. Must be the woman from last night. When I navigate to his phonebook, I find eight Tiffanys and two Tiffys. “Wow. You sure know a lot of Tiffanys.”
“It’s the one with Vegas in brackets,” he says. Obviously. “Text her: ‘Sorry. Had to leave. Something important came up’.”
I type with deliberately slow fingers, dragging it out for as long as I can to take the attention off me. “Does Tiffany know about all the other Tiffanys?”
“Who are you in trouble with?” he demands.
So much for keeping the attention off me. “I’m not in trouble.”
I send off the text to Tiffany and sneak into his other texts.
“Stop lying. I heard you tell that guard you’re in trouble.”
From Tina: I miss your cock. Accompanied by a topless selfie.
From Camille: Hey Zaddy. I’m in LA for a few days. Can we meet? Really want you in my mouth again.
From Kylie: Kitty misses you. Accompanied by a short video clip of her touching herself.
It’s enough for me to back out of his inbox and toss his phone back to him. “You’re a slut.”
“Quit trying to deflect, Lexi,” he says. “I’m not letting this go.”
He wouldn’t be a Garza if he did, would he? “I’m just…in a bit of a debt.”
“What kind of debt?”
“The life-or-death kind.”
“With who? Slim?”
“Pfft. I stopped working with that asshole a while ago.”
“Who are you in trouble with?”
“I don’t really know, to be honest. Someone named Stefano. Stefano Castello…I think.”
To that he says nothing. He focuses on pulling out of traffic and off to the side of the road, hazard lights on. Only then does he look at me, and his now grim expression makes me squirm. “Lexi,” he says slowly, “tell me exactly what you did to get in the Castellos crosshairs, how it happened, and what he wants. Do not lie or leave anything out.”
“You know him?”
“What. Did. You. Do, Lexi?”
His tone and expression are scaring me, so I quit dawdling and just tell him. “My friend Ellie was nabbed at Black Gold for cheating cards. She told them I’m the one who sent her there, and now they’r
e holding her hostage in return for double what she tried to cheat.”
“How much?”
“Um…” I scratch a nonexistent itch on my neck. “92k.”
He stares at me for beat, then nods. Flicks on his indicator, and eases back into traffic. “You said you’re staying at Richmond’s Guest Apartments downtown?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna take you there, and you’re gonna stay put. Got it?”
“I can’t,” I protest. “They gave me forty-eight hours—well, thirty-five now—to get them the money or they’ll ‘put her in a crate on a boat’. Whatever that means.”
“Christ,” he mutters. “Just do what I say, all right? Even if you paid them the money, they wouldn’t let your friend go. They’d make an example out of her.”
A fist-sized lump forms in my throat and I gulp past it. “I don’t understand. I got caught counting in Black Gold years ago and nothing like this happened. They just tossed me out and banned me.”
“That’s when the Castellos were still half-civilized. Now, they’re savages. They run Vegas and answer to no one. Started making an example out of counters a while ago. Thought you knew that, Lexi. You don’t steal from the Castellos.”
I pick nervously at my nails. “I-I didn’t. I’ve only been back here a couple of weeks now.”
He sighs. “I’ll go see Stefano. See if we can work something out.”
“Oh my God, you’ll do that?” I let out a whoosh of breath. “Are you friends, or…?”
His chuckle is sardonic. “No, we’re not friends. And there are no guarantees. He’s a volatile motherfucker.”
“He gave me a card, but there’s no number or address,” I say as I pull the card from my pocket. “His name’s on the front and ‘Just ask’ on the back.”
“‘Cause that’s all you’ve got to do,” he informs me. “Just ask and you’ll be taken to him.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup.”
I relax for the first time since this morning and say a silent prayer that Trent’s impending talk with Stefano Castello works out in my favor.
“Hey,” I say, “I know I’m often an ingrate, but thanks for saving me back there.”
An unpleasant noise sounds in his throat as he mumbles, “I’m already starting to wish I hadn’t.”
Yup, still the same old asshole.
Chapter FIVE
“You’re an animal.”
Trent
Well, fuck me.
I pull out of Richmond’s Guest Apartments complex after dropping Lexi off and merge into traffic.
I can’t even be surprised that she’s landed herself in such a mess. She’s Lexi Flores after all. Always been a handful. A headcase. A rebel. A riot.
Stubborn. Independent. Determined.
Lexi fucking Flores.
For my brother Torin, she’s the one that got away.
For me, she’s the one I wish had chosen me.
For her, thanks to Torin’s fuck-up, she wants nothing to do with any of us. Hated us so much that even if she was up for the guillotine and we had to power spare her, she would lay her neck down with flare before asking us for help.
But it’s time. I felt it when I saw her last night, when I looked into her eyes and saw the opening, the one I’ve waited half my life for.
A prodding in my chest, a whisper in my soul, a chill along my spine, telling me it’s time.
Fucking finally.
I’d been in the parking lot for less than a minute, waiting for an old client, when my rearview mirror showed me a crouched figure creep around from the back of my jeep. I briefly went into high alert. Only when the person lurched toward the convertible parked in the lot next to me and the wind whipped her hair back, did I realize it was her.
Even while harried and colored with fright, she was still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Before I could get out to ask her what she was doing, the man was there. As red with rage as I was with how he was handling her, I had to take time to assess the area and situation. I had to ensure he was on his own, before I quietly powered down my window and put him to sleep.
It’s not the first time I’ve had to save Lexi. She’s gotten herself into more shit than I can count ever since she quit working with Slim, and somehow I always seem to be at the right place at the right time to help her. Help she would fight and rail against and swear to hell she didn’t need, then ditch me.
But while most of those were small issues, this…this is different. With Stefano, it wouldn’t have been a simple transaction of cash in return for her friend. One would’ve been killed, and one would’ve been kept on a leash.
I was supposed to drive back to L.A. this morning, but after running into her last night, and feeling what I felt, I decided to extend my trip for another two days. Maybe I hoped I’d run into her again, that I could talk for longer and push that door open a little wider. Something nice and chill, maybe over beers and buffalo wings.
But I should’ve known nothing would ever be ‘nice and chill’ with Lexi Flores.
~
I take the back entrance into Black Gold—the one that only a handful of people are allowed to use and is guarded twenty-four seven.
I bang my fist on the iron door. Three. Pause. One. Pause. Two. Pause. Three.
Once completed, a clang echoes on the other side and the door swings open. The two meatheads throw respectful chin jerks at me as they give me pass.
“Is he in?” I ask, bumping fists with both in turn.
“Yeah. He just went up.”
I head down the hall then up the stairs up to his office, cameras following me all the way. He’ll see me coming.
Another meathead is stationed outside his office door as well, but he lets me in without question, bumping his fist to mine.
Stefano is seated in a recliner in the corner of his office, a pretty blonde massaging his temples. Eyes closed, he asks, “Do you get migraines, Trenton?”
I move to one of the armchairs by his desk and drop my weight in it. “Every other day.”
“It is a respecter of no one,” he says.
“The bitch that doesn’t die.”
He opens his eyes and tap the blonde’s wrist. “Top drawer. Excedrin. Go get it.”
She gets him the painkillers and pours him a finger of whiskey. He knocks it all back in one swallow then gestures for her to get out.
Once she’s gone, he lifts his ankle onto his knee and gives me his full attention. “I thought you were leaving this morning.”
“That was the plan, yeah.” I scratch my jaw. “But someone I care about is in trouble.”
He lifts a brow. “Who do I need to kill for you, cousin dearest?”
I bite the inside of my cheek at the word cousin. Yeah. The Garza and the Castellos are, sadly, related through my father’s half-brother—same mother, different fathers.
We, the Garzas—the sane side of the family—try to keep our distance as much possible. The Castellos do the opposite. Now, as much as we hate it, they’re one of Red Cage’s biggest accounts. My business trip here was with him and Lorenzo, and their endless cousins. Bunch of murderous fucking lunatics.
“Why does everything with you start and end with murder?”
He grins. “Only when it comes to family. We protect family.”
“Well, go ahead and turn that gun on yourself,” I say, “‘cause the person my girl’s in trouble with is you.”
“Hmm.” He drums his fingers along the arm of the chair. “I had to make a visit this morning. Lexi Flores, I think her name was. Is it her?”
“Yep.”
The son of a bitch has the nerve to pout. “That’s too bad. I was planning on having fun with that one. She’s quite a package.”
Of course you did, you fucker. I keep my cool. I always have to keep my cool around these psychos.
He stands and clucks his tongue, walking over to his desk. “You are my blood, Trenton, and I respect
you, but I’m not dropping the debt. She tried to steal from me. You know how I am about my money.”
“Her friend did, then lied to cover her ass.”
“He says… she says…” he drags. “I do not care what the truth is. I care about my business and my money. She must pay.”
“Is the friend still alive?”
“For now.”
Good. Now I’ve got something to work with. “Let’s negotiate.”
“Trenton. Trenton. Trenton.” He sighs dramatically and props himself at the edge of his desk. “Do I ever try to negotiate when I come to your place of business? I always pay what you ask, and sometimes more because you do excellent work. Why do you insult me like this?”
“Cut the shit, Stefano. I’m not negotiating a service. I’m negotiating for someone’s life.”
He stares at me.
I hold it, firm and unflappable.
“Ah, I see.” He straightens from his desk and crosses the room to the mini bar, pours himself more whiskey, then turns to face me after taking a sip. “You want to spare the lying friend’s life.”
“I pay the 92k, you let her go.” With emphasis, I add, “For real.”
“What you are asking is a lot, Trenton. I punish people for stealing from me. How could she not know this? The audacity of coming into my casino and—”
“100k.”
“150.”
“Motherfucker.”
He shrugs. “Like you said, you are negotiating for a life.”
It’s a hard hit, but I know he won’t budge. Even if we share blood and respect, business is business. And for the Castellos, killing to set an example is considered business.
“How about 170k and you make today’s security footage at Glintz disappear and see to it that the guard there keeps his mouth shut.” As he lifts a questioning brow, I add, “Don’t ask.”
“Why give me 20k to do something you can easily do yourself without it costing you a dime?”
“Is it my city or yours?”
“How manipulative of you to puff me up when it suits you.” He drops his gaze to the floor for a moment then sweeps it up to me again and grins. “It worked. Shower me with praises more often. I’m a Gemini, after all. I suffer no shame in being a narcissist.”