by Dee Garcia
“I’ve spent the entire morning watching the security footage over and over again,” I started, turning the computer screen toward them. “And I keep coming back to the same questions. Who the bloody hell is he? How the fuck did he know where to find me? And lastly, what in the ever loving motherfuck does he want?”
“We don’t know,” Vic answered quietly. He had the nerve to look sheepish while he was at it.
“We don’t know is not an option. I told you last week I wanted all the details by Monday, and well, today is Monday, Vic, so where are my details?”
“No one knows anything. I searched high and low all weekend, and there’s nothing. Zilch. Nada. He’s clean as fuck.”
No one is perfect, idiot.
“Then how did Hector know he was from New York?” I quizzed, leaning onto my elbows.
“I told you, he overheard his boys talking about it. They have Poker night every week. Hector got there late and walked in on them discussing it.”
“So where are his boys?”
“Gone,” he deadpanned.
This time, I did laugh—softly, as I rose onto my feet and ambled around the desk. My patience had about reached its end.
“Of course they are. How convenient.”
Green eyes narrowed defensively. “What are you trying to say, L?”
“I’m saying it’s pretty damn convenient that his men just vanished into thin air, when they’re the only ones who can help us at this point in time,” I clarified.
“I swear to you, I’ve turned Miami upside down looking for them and any clues as to who this phantom is—”
“Any yet you’ve come up empty handed, so quite obviously you didn’t look hard enough. Pro tip—look harder, Vic, look real fucking hard; between the lines, in every damn crevice, because the hit I’m taking no thanks to this asshole isn’t a goddamn joke! Do you know how much product I have to replace out of pocket? How many orders for Black Widow need to be duplicated and sent out express? How much supplies needs to be ordered? How many machines need repairs? Again, all out of pocket. He. Fucked. Me. And now I want his balls on a silver platter,” I bit out, literally tasting the venom dripping off my words.
This faceless, nefarious man was evoking the darkest of hate within me and I didn’t even know who he was.
“I’ll find him,” Vic vowed, snapping my gaze back to where he sat.
The meager smirk he offered pissed me right the hell off. What could he possibly have to smile about? His ass was grass if he didn’t get his shit together.
“Damn right you will or you can expect a severe decrease in your hours and your salary. I don’t pay you to do mediocre work.”
Vic nodded and nonchalantly turned towards Roscoe, reminding me of the giant’s presence. Regret and guilt made up his massive aura. His posture, his demeanor, everything.
Good.
“What the hell were you doing while this shit show was going on?” I asked him, crossing my arms.
Roscoe eyed me cautiously, beads of sweat accumulating at his temples. His mouth popped open several times as he tried to work out a plausible explanation, but words seemed to elude him. You’d never think a man of his size was capable of such intimidation.
And I was going easy on him.
“I passed out, Lux,” he finally answered. “I’m sorry—it wasn’t intentional. The wife has been on my ass lately and I’m just… I’m exhausted.”
“You’re exhausted?” I puffed out incredulously.
Roscoe nodded, scrubbing a hand down the back of his buzzed head.
“Did it occur to you that sharing that information with me might’ve been beneficial to both you and I? Not only would it have ensured the security of my business, it would have given you the time you needed to rest. You know I’m pretty lenient when it comes to time off.”
“I know, but I didn’t want to waste time off because I’m tired. Yessika would kill me.”
“Yeah? And now I’m about to kill you. You fucked up, Roscoe—you fucked up royally. I’m going to lose so much money, and possibly customers on both ends because you fell asleep. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put your ass out on the street and bill you for my upcoming expenses?”
“It won’t happen again, Lux, I swear,” he blurted out, legs bouncing restlessly.
The sweat at his temples was a full sheen now. Nervous wasn’t enough of a word to properly describe the state of this man.
“That’s right,” I leaned toward him, feeding off his vulnerability, “because there won’t be a next time. Understood?”
He nodded briskly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Wonderful. Now both of you, go find…something.” I shooed them away. “And that still includes Hector’s circle.”
“What if we can’t?” That was Vic as he rose to full height, straightening his ivy green suit jacket.
I stared at him for several moments, wondering how fucking stupid he could be. Apparently, more than I thought possible.
“You better,” was all I offered, stalking back around desk. “Or we’re going to have problems. Serious problems.”
♫ Mi Gente - J Balvin & Willy Willam ♫
“Willow, be a doll and fetch Rome another beer, will you?” Vic said to the petite redhead perched contentedly on his lap.
With a swift slap to her ass, she was on her feet, scampering off inside the yacht’s cabin to fulfill Vic’s demand.
I shook my head as he glanced my way, his lips curving in an amused smirk.
“What?” he asked candidly, taking another sip from his Corona.
“She’s not a dog,” I answered.
“I’m fully aware.”
“And yet you treat her like one.”
“She likes it.” He shrugged, relaxing further into the hazel wood leathered cushions lining the perimeter of the stern. “Well, she likes the money.”
“So that warrants you to treat her like your personal slave?” I quizzed.
“When I take such good care of her? Yes, it’s part of the trade-off.”
“Trade-off?” A sarcastic laugh shot out from my nose. “How about you just treat her with mutual respect instead? Would that be so difficult?”
“I do respect her, with my cock in her mouth,” he snickered.
I couldn’t help but look at him in complete and utter shock. His mum would knock him over the head with a frying pan if she heard him. Mine would’ve, too.
Don’t get me wrong, I did my fair share of fucking around with different women on a pretty regular basis, but I respected them.
Unless they warranted a reason otherwise, that is.
Act like a slut, get treated like a slut.
Vic used to operate the same. As an army brat, it’d been engrained in his mind. Respecting women was a cardinal rule in their home, just as it was in mine. Our families were vastly different, but that was the same. Sure, my mum might’ve danced to make a living, but she never brought strange men home, except for the two who were serious. Not only did she want to set a good example for me, she wanted to set one for my little sister as well. As a single mother, she had to work twice as hard, had to play both roles in a child’s life.
“I liked you better when you weren’t so uptight and pissy,” Vic said suddenly, pulling me out from a place I didn’t like revisiting too often.
“What are you going on about now?” I sighed, scrubbing a hand down my face to rid my mind of that bloodied image.
“You and your perpetually ticked state. You seem as bitter toward me as you are about—”
I held a hand up to shut him down. We were not about to talk about my ex.
“What the hell is going on with you?” he bit out. “Are you still mad about—”
Again I held a hand up. Wasn’t up for discussion. No matter how he worded it or tried to get around it, we were not talking about Liza.
Not now, not ever.
End of story.
Just the thought of her made me resentful.
“No
thing to do with you,” I lied, catching wind of Willow emerging from the cabin with an enamored smile on her face.
Thank you, Willow.
The perfect distraction.
She bound right up to me, offered me the Corona, and legitimately slithered her way into Vic’s grasp again.
Except her presence didn’t distract him the way I was banking on.
“Then what’s the problem?” he pressed, grazing his fingertips along her figure. “And don’t tell me nothing, because I know you, Rome, and I know there’s something going on that you haven’t fessed up about.”
Kinda like you, asshole?
I took a sip from the fresh, ice cold bottle to mask my irritation. “It’s nothing, Vic. Just know that me helping you puts me at risk.”
“Why?” Willow asked, totally rapt in our conversation.
I stared at her for a moment in confusion, then watched Vic’s face morph from curious to slightly irate. Very slowly, he turned his head toward her and waited for her attention. When she remained oblivious, he rushed a hand into her enflamed locks and reeled her back close enough for his lips to scrape against her ear.
“Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, sweetheart,” he growled viciously. “Understood?”
“Y-yes,” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as he tugged on her hair harder.
“Fantastic. Now run along and play with your little friends while you can. We’ll be docking shortly.”
He all but shoved her onto her feet and slapped her ass, not the least bit concerned she was gaping at him in both horror and betrayal. Idly, I wondered if this were the first time he lashed out at her like this.
Either way, he was one stupid motherfucker. Willow looked damn good.
“Why help me then?” he asked, as soon as she was out of earshot.
I shook my head and took another generous sip, pondering what had happened in the last few years for Vic to change so much. “Because you needed it,” I answered.
“Anddd,” he drawled, waving a hand for me to continue.
“And because Lux sounds a lot like…”
I stopped myself right there, quickly realizing I’d said too much. I wasn’t ready to get into this with him, but of course, he already seemed to know. I hated how well he still knew me when I recognized so little about him.
“Oh, I know,” he agreed, a little chuckle bouncing off the end, completely unsurprised. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re related. Diabolical little bitches.”
“Amen,” I agreed, for the sake of letting it go, taking yet another sip as Cardi’s “I Like It” began blaring through the speakers.
“She’s losing her mind trying to figure out who you are, by the way.” He laughed.
“So why not just tell her?” I asked, to which his head reared back in slight disgust.
“How is that even a question right now?”
“How do you expect her to retaliate if she doesn’t know where to find me?”
“I plan to tell her, trust me. Just not yet. If I come back with answers too soon, she’ll question it.”
“Will she really, though?” My query sounded as skeptical as you’re imagining. “If she’s losing it like you claim, she’ll be pleased you have, at the very least, one answer for her. One little clue will get this moving even quicker.”
Vic shook his head definitively. “Not yet. I want to make her wait, want her to suffer, need her to beg on her fucking knees in desperation. Then I’ll tell her.”
On one hand, I understood where he was coming from. Revenge made people do the most daft shit sometimes. Wearing her down to the last thread was part of the appeal, something I’d once been hellbent on doing to Liza.
Correction, something I did do to Liza.
But on the other hand, I didn’t understand why he’d want to drag this out.
Okay, wait—I’m lying out of my ass. Vic loved himself a lengthy drama, loved the spotlight on him.
My point is, though, for someone who was so anxious to reclaim what was supposedly his, why wait any longer than necessary to do so? Why waste time on petty moves?
I was tempted to ask, so tempted the question burned hot on my tongue, but I knew the chances of getting an honest answer were slim to none, not when he was still withholding so much from me.
“If you say so,” I conceded, cutting my eyes toward all the commotion on the upper level.
Willow’s friends were having the time of their lives with no Willow in sight. I’d bet money not one of them knew what their dearest friend had to endure in order to make this possible.
“So what’s the next step in your plan?” He questioned, slicing through my silent observation.
I shrugged and turned my attention back on him, draining what remained of my beer. “Tip off the cops, lead them right to her distributors. At least the top three anyway. She’ll find herself quite lost without them considering they purchase the most weight and have the most clientele, right?”
One of Vic’s brows shot up in a perfect arch. “Absolutely. I like that,” he cooed, nodding in approval. “She’s going to go nuclear.”
“Good. That’s the goal, is it not?”
“Yep.”
“Next move is on you, though, mate,” I clarified, pointing the emptied bottle at him. “You have to give her one teensy sliver, make her think you’re doing your job and all that.”
“I will, I will. She’ll be begging for sure by then. Perfect timing if you ask me,” he chortled, the devious glimmer in his eyes practically shining through his Aviators. “Told you I needed your mastermind.”
Sureee.
I could have rolled my damn eyes. Bloody miracle I didn’t, really.
“Oh, and I keep forgetting to mention…” I added, scooting to the edge of my seat. “I’m taking the office.”
Vic looked at me like I’d sprouted five heads. “The hell you are,” he spat, enjoying a good laugh.
By himself.
My lips didn’t even quirk.
“I am. I have to,” I asserted.
“Yeah? And why is that?”
“Because if I don’t, it’ll blow our cover. What is Lux going to think when she finally pieces everything together, storms into Noir Coast, only to find an office that screams Vic Kane?”
Silence.
I could see the cogs working in his head, see it painted all over his face. He knew I had a point.
“Fuck, you’re right,” he sighed, dropping his head back against the cushion.
I smiled in satisfaction and lifted onto my feet as the yacht began approaching the bay. “I know.”
“Whatever, do it.” He waved me off, not noticing I’d already taken off. “I’ll clean it out Monday and you can move your shit in. But as soon as Lux submits, I’m taking it back.”
“You can have it,” I called out over my shoulder, heading right for a frightened Willow at the other end of the boat with a smirk.
The girl was going to have a good time, even if it was just for a few minutes, and she was going to realize she didn’t need Vic to do that.
She just needed the King.
♫ Wreak Havoc - Skylar Grey ♫
Phantom returned before I could retaliate.
After a week and a half or so of losing my goddamn mind, he struck again, randomly and unannounced. And let me tell you, this K fellow was ballsy. Ballsy as fuck to be exact. Smart, too.
Crafty.
Resourceful.
I hated him. No, more like loathed him with a fierce passion. Loathed him more than I did my piece of shit father. His masked face haunted me day in and day out, haunted my dreams, too. I was exhausted, constantly on edge. But mostly, I was livid.
All I wanted was to rid myself of him, but if he’d proven anything in the last few weeks, it’s that he wasn’t going anywhere.
The million dollar question was—what exactly did he want from me?
There were obvious factors of course; the money, the power. But why target me sp
ecifically? Phantom could’ve chosen anyone in the world to pick a fight with. So why me?
And why hide while he was at it?
He had balls of steel when it came to intimidation tactics, so why not just be a man, period?
Why not face me directly and tell me he wanted a cut?
I’d have said no—obviously—because there’s not a chance in hell I was going to share something I shed blood, sweat, and tears for, but he didn’t know that…
Or did he?
I’d run across the thought several times, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself it just couldn’t be, I couldn’t seem to dismiss it completely either.
Was Phantom someone I knew?
Someone I may have burned a bridge with on the way up?
Sadly, no, he wasn’t, because it couldn’t be that easy.
I still had no idea who he was, even after Vic finally did his job. All we had to go by was a location. Oh, and the infamous K signature from his note, of course. Despite the lack of an ID, though, his supposed coordinates led us to some newly restored factory along the marina.
Noir Coast Distillery.
Was this really his place?
We’re about to find out…
“Ready?” I asked Roscoe and Vic, as we stood head-on before the enemy, ready to tear the place upside down until we found him.
Oh rather, until I found him.
If anyone was going to rip him to shreds, it was me.
I smirked. He wanted to chat, right?
Well, let’s chat then, motherfucker.
Roscoe and Vic yanked open the doors for me, allowing me to run in with a handgun lodged in each hand. Machines and conversations immediately came to a screeching halt as everyone—men and women alike—stopped what they were doing, their wide, fearful eyes trained on me in all my furious glory.
It was dead silent as I peered around the room, both Vic and Roscoe right on my tail again, rifles extended.
“Who the fuck runs this shit hole?” I gritted out.
At least ten people pointed up to an office overlooking the main floor. The blinds were drawn but I could just make out a shadowed figure standing beside the window.
My pulse quickened all the more.