Scar

by A. M. Brooks

  “Bring the car around,” I tell Luis, my new driver, before shoving the cell phone into my clutch.

  Luis drives me to the strip of clubs lining the downtown LA area. My gaze lands on Viper’s Den, a new bar in the area, which also has a reputation for its involvement in criminal activity, before sending the location to Evita. She shows up ten minutes later, her face somber, the fading red blemish by her lip, finally fading.

  “You see the news?” she asks when she reaches me. I nod, while she signals the bartender for a drink. “I can’t believe how this is ending.”

  “My father will get what’s coming to him,” I tell her, my voice void of all emotion. I dismiss the drink she offers me, and she barely flinches when she slams them both as if they were shots.

  “Are you going back to Mexico?”

  “Yes,” I smile slightly. The only consolation I got for helping tonight was the ability to return to Talúm. Evita looks down at the floor and I can see the way her body shuts down. In just the few short days since my father sent that picture, Raz showed his true colors to Evita. I explained to her what I knew, what happened, and what I had to do. “I’ll get him someday, Evi,” I tell her softly, but she hears me.

  Our eyes meet and she nods. “Any chance you can take a stowaway with you?”

  I give her a tight smile and nod my head, yes. As I do, my new target for my pet project walks in. His eyes glance over the crowd and I make sure he can see my interest.

  “Tomorrow at the private air strip outside of LAX,” I tell Evi, standing from my stool, “I’ll meet you there.”

  Whatever she sees in my eyes, she doesn’t comment, and she doesn’t have to. I know I look soulless. Heartless. I’m tired of being hunted and then fed to the wolves when I don’t jump high enough. My father is dead to me. Raul is just another problem I need to take care of. After I make sure I’m safe and take care of what I need to, I’ll start planning for his demise.

  I approach the man, Paul, don’t care about his last name, from across the room, and somehow, I manage not to cringe when his eyes run all over my body, undressing me completely. I fight the urge not to throat punch him, and instead, offer to buy him a drink. Thirty minutes later, he’s eating out the palm of my hand, ready to leave with me back to my motel room. I signal Luis, who raises his brow at me. I’m not one who usually takes a random man home, or even dates in front of my security. I give Luis a look that dares him to defy me. Like the good little sheep he is, he returns to the front of the car and drives me and my target back to the motel. “Come get me in an hour,” I tell Luis, who nods, even though he looks confused as hell.

  With the clock ticking, I manage to lead Paul to the room. I kiss him hard, punishing him for being the one I have to do this with. Punishing myself for letting my father win. I strip down, and for once in my life, I let a disgusting man touch me, while I convince him to get himself off. I whisper dirty things to him. I like to watch. I want to pretend it’s my lips and not his hands. I want him to imagine it’s me. The fucker eats it up, his eyes get hooded, and before I know it, he shoots his cum all over his hand.

  “Disgusting, Paul,” I whisper in his ear, before stepping out of his reach. His eyes bulge, and his face turns red. I know he’s about to curse at me and that’s something that can’t be heard. Before he can react, my hand swipes out, slicing my dagger across his jugular. His face contorts in surprise, his hand coming up to grip his neck. Not that it will do much. Blood squirts all over and eventually, he slumps to the side, falling face first into his own pool of blood. I step back and grab my phone. I pull up my notes and find Paul’s file.

  Robbery with assault

  Domestic strangulation

  First degree sexual assault.

  I hit delete and wipe his existence off my phone, just like I took him off the face of the earth. He served a purpose and now I’ve avenged his many victims. I shake the leftover adrenaline out of my muscles, cranking my neck left to right. I glance at my phone and see I have another twenty minutes until Luis should arrive. I pull out my phone and check Twitter. Sure enough #FreeTrentNichols is trending. My lips twitch. Finally, someone can see through the bullshit set-up job I did. I blow out my breath, praying this is all worth it. Luis honks once when he arrives. With one more glance at Paul, I throw my hair upside down and create a messy look, pinching the skin between my neck and shoulder to create a red mark, before heading out the door.

  “Drive,” I tell Luis the minute I slip in.

  “Do you need me to take care of it?”

  “Am I an amateur?” I lift my brow at him in the review mirror. His gaze slides away from mine. “Being gone almost a year doesn’t mean I forgot. He’s taken care of and so is the footage.”

  Luis nods and doesn’t ask any more questions. At my request, he turns the radio on and I immediately regret it when Sam Smith’s “How Do You Sleep?” plays through the car’s speakers. The whole day crashes into me after hearing the first verse. By the chorus, I’m internally a mess. My eyes close, while we drive out of the downtown area. I hope that wherever Trent is, he can forgive me someday.

  Now…

  Trent

  This night is spiraling faster than I thought it would. I wasn’t overly thrilled to begin with when Jay and I made the plans, but now that I’m here, it sucks even more. It’s been a week since Scarlet sat in our secret precinct and recapped her messed-up childhood, went into gritty detail about the day she fucked my life over, and then kept going to fill in every blank space about what she’s been doing since then. When the lights flickered back on, I couldn’t face her. Not because hearing it all again brought up the old pain and anger, but for a small, microscopically small, moment, I understood why. I peeked at the girl from my past and not the woman in the room, spilling every calculating, messy, and gory detail about how she rose to the top. She pulled so much shit off in the past six years, it was no wonder her father had to make her, Queen. If I didn’t hate the man before, I definitely did now. I have never, and I will never, understand parents who hurt their children.

  The collar on my all-black suit feels tight and I roll my shoulders again for the hundredth time since I put it on. I’m not happy being here tonight, having to parade around as Scarlet’s bodyguard, chauffer, or whatever else she needs for the night. The fact that Jay approved it, makes me even more irritated. It’s like he’s purposely trying to piss me off by forcing us together. I know his eyes are on the room, and I’m very tempted to flip him the middle finger, even though it could possibly mean tipping off every crime lord and lackey in this place that their little soiree has been infiltrated.

  I stand guard by the door she’ll make her appearance through. Everyone here tonight was called for the same reason; the queen has called them. I didn’t understand before how power switched hands from Raul to Scarlet but now I do. After all, the woman who took down Razelle Javad should be feared. When found, his body was strung upside down, spread eagle, blood and his insides hanging out, and missing the head. He was identified by fingerprints alone. It is still unknown where his two closest friends and business partners are, as they went missing several weeks after the Javad family reported Razelle gone. In his death, Razelle’s business was exposed and dismantled. I used to think it was an act of God that Razelle’s evilness just wouldn’t be tolerated, now to have Scarlet’s confession that she is responsible, is earth shattering. My head keeps reminding me of the evil she is capable of while my gut keeps trying to shove the truths and misconceptions in front of my eyes. All the back and forth is starting to create a dull ache behind my eyes, just further adding to the irritation I feel.

  I’m about to knock again on the door behind me, when I feel it. The change in the atmosphere is so poignant that it causes the hair on my neck to stand on end. Eyes fall in my direction, but I know they aren’t looking at me. In a room full of powerful men, Scarlet steps into the open space, commanding attention in a way I’ve never seen. Men’s heads incline in her direction, a bow of s
orts, showing their respect. There are only two other women in attendance tonight, both of whom are the wives of other men in attendance, and even they look at Scarlet with admiration and wonder.

  I finally let my eyes drop to her as she makes her way to my side, stopping next to me, eyes colliding with mine. Her hair is pulled tight in a fancy bun with her lips painted blood red. The long sleeve, black dress she wears has a plunging neckline and slit up the side so high it almost reaches her panty line. Around her waist is a glittering silver belt, and her ears are adorned with silver hoops. Her most startling accessory though is the small, tight smile on her face. Scarlet’s eyes move from mine and wander around the room, predatorily, and I glimpse the character she’s been forced to play.

  “Ready?” I ask, barely above a whisper. The only sign she gives me is when she starts moving through the room, her head held high, until she reaches the long wooden table at the back. Acting my part, I pull out the chair for her to sit. Everyone in the room has taken their cue from her, following to the table and sitting. It’s fucking weird. I’ve seen and I’ve heard the stories, but witnessing it firsthand is unbelievable.

  With everyone seated, I force myself to stand back, behind her chair, in a show of support. Scanning the room, I take in every face and run through all the information I know of them in my head. Most present are in the drug industry while a small majority deal in illegal gun and ammunition distribution. All in all, bringing eleven people to the table. My fingers twitch behind my back. All of these men are on a list hanging in our office, wanted for several crimes and deaths and here they all are in one room, but I can’t touch them.

  The air in the room grows thick with tension while they wait for her to speak. Scarlet keeps her hands down by her sides and eyes on the table in front of her. My body coils, waiting in anticipation to see her handle this. All eyes in the room bounce from her to each other, before a man closest to her clears his throat. “Condolences for your loss, Ms. Reyes,” he says. I instantly recognize him as Brady Lochlan, a major gun trader up the East Coast. Her shoulders grow stiff, and I feel my own body stand up straighter in response.

  “Who told?” Scarlet’s voice rings out, and I swear it gets quieter.

  Brady’s eyes dance over the table. “Are you insinuating it wasn’t from your own camp?”

  Scarlet’s head turns in his direction. The man’s face visibly pales. “I’ve already cleaned house,” her arm swings in my direction, “meet my new detail. There is just one thing though that I can’t stop thinking about…” Her voice trails off and she turns back to the rest of the room.

  A few seats down, Matt ‘The Rat’ Mantrana, shifts in his seat. His beady eyes dart around everyone. His waxy face looks strung out, and I can finally see for myself why they call him ‘The Rat,’ other than the fact that he would sell out anyone who isn’t in his best interest to a higher up or the feds. One second I’m looking at the man, and the next, a shot rings out. The small puckered hole in his forehead blooms red, a surprised look forever frozen on his face.

  My body steps toward Scarlet involuntarily, right as one of the wives screams. My eyes sweep over to Scarlet only to see she’s the one laying the silver pistol on the table, barrel facing the crowd. My conscience and my duty rage against each other in my chest. The world won’t miss a man such as Mantrana, yet at the same time, a murder was committed in front of me. I feel twitchy.

  “Was that necessary?” A man with a southern drawl finally speaks. He’s holding a pocket square and rubbing red specks of blood from his neck. My head rises. I recognize him. Gerald Lopez. Owner and operator of the second largest narcotics infiltrator near the southern border.

  Scarlet’s head tilts, as if she’s contemplating. “Gerry,” she clicks her tongue, “I do find it necessary to remove alliances when they cross me. Rat knew my father’s plan for the exchange at the hotel that day. He’d previously brought that group of boys in against my wishes before, even after I made it clear they weren’t to be trusted. And now my father is dead.”

  Gerry starts to look uncomfortable, his eyes hardening, as if expecting another bullet in his direction. “I made sure Rat got the message just as you asked.”

  “No,” she shakes her head, “I told you to take care of him, Gerry. The DEA is up our asses because you continued to let Rat bring in teenagers who care more about getting their next fix than loyalty to the job. When the cop kid died, I told you to end Rat then.” Cop kid. I know she means Blake and my eyes stay focused on Gerry.

  “He was useful,” Gerry argues, a deep red creeping up his collar.

  “He was willing to sell you out to me, Gerry,” Scarlet announces, “Rat would have flipped anyone in this room, and you chose to ignore my warning. That group of boys continued their business and tried to use my hotel as a way to settle their own scores during my drop.”

  “Are you going to kill me too?” he asks, eyes bulging, while they glance at everyone else in the room, who are dutifully keeping their faces averted, letting Scarlet handle her own.

  Scarlet sits back in her seat, her arms resting on the table, her fingers darting out to spin the pistol around. I swear no one breathes. “Not right now,” she finally answers. My eyes narrow. There is a beat of silence while everyone comes to grips with the ominous feeling in the air. Clearly their queen is pissed, and one wrong move could mean a bullet in their head. I have to hand it to Brady when he’s the only one who dares to speak after several minutes.

  “Now that Rat’s taken care of, can we continue with our meeting?”

  Scarlet sits back and waves her hand for him to continue. For the next two hours, they go around the table detailing every crime they committed this week, a job completed, and their plans for the next month. I start to realize the reason for being here today, not only to watch Scarlet but taking intel. I commit each face, name, and affiliation to memory.

  For so long, we’ve had blank spots on our grids, trying to find out who we’re missing. Scarlet is helping to fill those in. I hate it, even when I know it’s necessary. Every fiber in my being screams she can’t be trusted, even while she’s openly giving us information. Information that could, by her standards, earn her an execution like Rat’s.

  Through it all, I play my part, standing stoically behind her, while keeping my eyes on everyone, and check to be sure they haven’t snuck weapons in the room as well. They treat her with respect, almost catering to her in a way, making sure her drink is full and updating her on information, and realize how much her empire has grown. When she tumbles down, it isn’t going to be a small splash but a tidal wave. All of these fuckers doting on her are going under, and they have no idea.

  At the end of the meeting, Scarlet takes the pistol, and I watch as it disappears under her dress. My brow rises. She stands first and everyone follows suit. Now that business is over, a few make their way to the makeshift bar set up in the back, while a few others are brave enough to come forward and offer her a handshake and their condolences. Scarlet’s back is stiff, and I can tell she hates the attention about her father. Her face stays passive, with that fake small smile on her red lips. After the last person greets her, she turns and nods once at me that she’s ready to leave. I follow her through the room to the steel door she entered through earlier. It opens to a stairwell and out of the building. I see her car is still where I parked it earlier. I open the backdoor for her, still playing my part, before climbing in the driver’s side. Once the engine fires up and we’re moving, the phone rings.

  “Yes,” I hear her clipped voice.

  “Well done,” Jay answers back. “Trent, once you drop her off head to my place, so we can piece together the next event.”

  “Will do,” I tell him before he hangs up.

  The car is silent. I glance in my rearview mirror and see that Scarlet is massaging the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed and she’s breathing deeply.

  “You killed Rat,” I decide to bring up the subject. She sighs and her shoulders slump. I g
lance again and this time see the tiredness on her face. Faint bluish smudges are under her eyes and she looks softer again.

  “He was responsible for what happened in that garage,” she answers, all of the previous bravado in her voice from earlier is gone. She sounds like the girl I know.

  “You let Gerry live?” I bite out, reminding her I was able to piece things together.

  Our eyes meet briefly in the mirror. “I thought you’d want to see the man responsible for Blake’s death alive. Then you can handle him however you want.”

  “By the law or by your way of justice, you mean?” I question. Her head leans back against the headrest. She doesn’t answer, obviously knowing that I’m heated about the whole thing. I hate that she knows me.

  Every so often, my eyes keep glancing back to her, as if drawn to her, after so many years of her being gone from their sight. Something about surveillance photos that never do the person justice. Six years ago, I never would have thought I’d be this close to her, sharing air, and working alongside her to break a case. I pick up every detail of her face, her body language, and the way she almost relaxes around me when she shouldn’t. The girl I once knew was warm, bold, and chased life as if she had nothing to lose. The woman sitting with me is nothing like her. She’s shed the hard exterior and I catch the toll this life has taken on her tonight. I grit my teeth.

  “Why do you do it? You’re obviously tired, and one wrong step in that crowd could mean death. You hated your father and now he’s gone, so why do it? You could bounce off the face of the earth tomorrow. I know you have the resources to disappear and that we could never find you.”

  I see her chest rise and fall, yet her eyes stay closed. Whether she’s ignoring me or fell asleep I guess I don’t know. I almost wish I could take back the words I said out loud. I don’t want to care, yet I can’t help but think I’m missing something. My head spins thinking over everything I know and picked up on.