by Linda Verji
Her mention of his mother sent a shard of pain through him and he closed his eyes. His mother had never approved of why or how he’d left.
“She’s dead, Nic,” Melanie said. “Anna died and you weren’t even at her funeral.”
“I was there.” He said the words before he could stop himself.
Her eyes widened and for a moment she appeared speechless with shock. Then she said slowly, “You were there.” Her eyes narrowed. “Exactly how long have you been around?”
He wanted to say that it was one of the rare occasions when he was allowed to come back home. He’d watched the funeral from behind a cluster of trees, watched Melanie mourn his mother as if she was her own. And later when they were all gone, he’d sat at his mother’s grave and cried for everything he’d lost.
“Lanie, I wish I-”
“Don’t.” She lifted her hand to quell his speech. “Don’t call me that.” Her chin rose higher. “Here’s what you can do though; get out.”
He’d known she wouldn’t welcome him with open arms, and he understood why her anger was so virulent; but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. “I’m just trying to help you.”
“No. Thanks,” she enunciated each word clearly giving him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m good without your help. I’ve been good without it all these years.”
Nic met her proclamation with silence. He was fully aware that over the years there were many times she’d needed help. All those times, he’d been in no position to help anyone.
This time he was.
He shifted closer to her. “Vance isn’t some fly you can just swat away.” When he reached for her hand, she snatched it away but he continued speaking. “He’s a dangerous man and you need to get away from him. Let me help you.”
She glared at him. “No.”
He released a frustrated breath. “What’s your plan exactly? You think you’ll get leverage over him and convince him that if he doesn’t leave you alone, you’ll use it. Melanie, he’ll kill you.”
She didn’t even blink.
“You’re not the first person he’s roped into peddling drugs for him and you’re not the first who’s thought of blackmailing him.” Nic scowled. “Do you know what happened to the others?”
He waited for her answer and only received a cutting look in return.
“They’re dead,” he answered his own question. “As are their close family members. Their businesses have been burnt to the ground.”
A flicker of fear crossed her features but her gaze hardened again. My God, the woman was stubborn. He needed to convince her to abort her risky plan.
“Going along with him isn’t the answer either.” Nic forestalled what he knew was her next option. “Those who do are either dead, in prison, or about to be one of the two. Is that what you want, Lanie? Is that what you’re looking for?”
“I didn’t know you cared so much,” she sneered, but Nic saw through her sarcasm to the fear that laced her words. He wanted to shift closer to her and take her in his arms, but he knew that she wasn’t ready for that.
Her gaze fell to the white comforter and he could see the wheels turning in her head as she played with the fabric. Finally she lifted her head and in her eyes saw defeat. She’d finally realized that she had no cards to play unless she took the ones he offered. But instead of agreeing with him, she drew in a deep breath then said, “I can’t leave.”
“Money?” He offered, “I told you if you go to the bank, you’ll find enough for a new beginning.”
She shook her head. “Marcus.”
He’d seen this coming from a mile off. Melanie had been running around rescuing her fucked-up of a brother for as long as he could remember and he didn’t expect this time to be any different. So he’d prepared for it. “I can get him out of prison.”
Her eyes widened and she stared at him in stunned disbelief. “You mean like help him break out?”
“Yes and No,” he prevaricated. “The last thing we need is for him to be branded an escaped fugitive. We do it my way and police will never come knocking at your door. But it’ll take a few days. It’s better for you to leave and then I can send him to you after-”
“No.” She shook her head. “We leave together.”
“The longer you stay here the more danger you’re placing yourself in.” He felt a muscle flex in his jaw and he narrowed his eyes. “For Marcus? The same Marcus who’d be out of prison if he didn’t keep fucking up his chances for parole?”
“Nic, please don’t!” Her soft entreaty cut into his words.
He couldn’t understand why Melanie continued to protect Marcus. By now, given her ambitions and willingness to work hard for her dreams, she should’ve been further up in life and definitely not in California. But her brother was an anchor keeping her docked to disaster. When was she ever going to let him take responsibility for his own actions?
Nic opened his mouth to tell her all that but swallowed his words when she sighed and ran her palm over her face. She looked worn out, like someone who’d been walking around with a heavy load on her shoulders and needed a break.
He wanted to give her that break; take the weight off and keep it off.
He reached for her hand but she tugged it away and curled it into a tight fist. She said, “We’ll leave once Marcus is out.”
Despite the exhaustion in her tone there was finality in her words that said she was at the limit of her surrender. She wasn’t leaving without her brother
Though dissatisfied, Nic let it go. At least she’d agreed to leave. Now, they just had to keep her alive until then. He reached into his pocket to come up with a black phone. Holding it out to her, he said, “This is untraceable and encrypted. If I need to talk to you, I’ll call you through this line. I’ve already keyed in my number for you so you can call me too.”
As she took the phone, her fingers brushed his. The light touch sent a tiny zap of electric awareness through him. Melanie seemed unaffected. She stared at the gadget for a few seconds then asked, “What about the others?”
“The others?”
“You said I’m not the only one Vance is using and that they are on the verge of death or prison.” Her next words surprised him. “What about them?”
Nic raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you have enough troubles of your own?”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be worried about other people,” she dismissed. Her gaze met his. “And I know exactly how trapped they feel. Isn’t there anything we can do to help them too?”
Nic didn’t know why he was surprised. He’d only mentioned them to convince her to his way of thinking, not to arouse her empathy. But Melanie had always been the most kindhearted person he knew. Everyone else came before she did. Her compassion had both attracted and frustrated him. For once he wished she’d think of herself, her safety.
“No.” He shook his head.
Her face fell. “Oh!”
Her disappointment had him wishing he could give her a better answer and before he could stop himself, he backtracked. “Okay, I’m not promising anything. But I’ll see what I can do.”
The bright smile she offered him was enough to make up for the hell he knew he was going to catch for changing plans.
Predictably, Diego and Rafaél were not happy and they made their protests well known the following night.
“I liked Plan A.” Diego, who was seated in the front passenger seat muttered, “Plan A was a good plan.”
“I liked Plan A too.” Rafaél, who was driving the town car they were all in, cast his boss an irritated glance through the rearview mirror. “I was looking forward to a good old-fashioned smack-down and exit. This new plan seems complicated, like a lot of hard work. All those men we have to call in, the moving parts…” He sighed heavily. “You know I don’t like hard work.”
“Yes, I know,” Nic answered, unbothered by the whining. “You can both still back out.”
“And have you get all the glory for taking down Vance?” Rafaél harrum
phed. “You wish.”
“She’s already agreed to leave.” Diego asked, “Why are we doing all this?”
“Because, Romeo over there is playing hero for his girlfriend,” Rafaél said.
Diego leaned back in his seat. “This is why I’ve never been in a relationship.”
“No.” Rafaél snorted. “You haven’t been in a relationship because no woman can stand your ugly mug.”
“Keep talking, Cinderella, and you’ll find your pretty face looking like your step-mother ran over it,” Diego retorted.
Nic resisted his impulse to bark out that he and Melanie were not in a relationship. It would only encourage them. But their words struck a chord in him. He couldn’t deny the thread of attraction that still tugged at him whenever he was in Melanie’s presence. He would repress it, he swore. His sole task was to make sure she was out of California and safe.
“I thought you two would jump at the chance to get rid of Vance for good,” Nic said as Rafaél slowed the town car to a halt.
“Not if it means coming to places like these.” Diego cast an irritated look toward the nightclub they pulled up in front of. “What if he recognizes you?”
“He won’t,” Nic answered as he pushed the car door open. There was no way Vance would recognize him. The first, only and last time they’d met, it’d been in a dimly lit alleyway. Nic was younger, thin, poorer, shorter hair… there was absolutely no way.
Club Nox was reputed to be the leading hangout for Berkeley’s who’s who. A long line of eager wannabe patrons ran from the door to the corner of the street and turned into the next block. All of them were eager to hand over their fifty dollars to the bouncer, yet ninety percent would get turned down at the door for flimsy excuses. Too old, too many clothes, too geeky!
The moment Nic exited the vehicle someone was there to usher him in. “Welcome to Club Nox, Sir.”
They didn’t even know who he was. One glance at his expensive town-car, custom-made suit and the genuine Cartier on his wrist and they rolled out the red-carpet. Money talks and poverty shuts up, Nic thought with the cynicism of one who’d been on both sides of the fence. The escort ushered Nic and Diego through the side door.
“I’ll find my way,” Nic dismissed him. Loud music welcomed them into the club. It boomed from the speakers surrounding the large room to mingle with the scent of alcohol that hang in the air. Strobe lights flashed over the dancing patrons, servers weaving around with drinks, and bouncers intent on keeping the peace.
Nic received many lingering stares as he wove his way through the crowd. The stares were encouraged by the way Diego shoved people aside to clear the path for his boss. Nic lifted his gaze upwards towards the balcony searching the railed alcoves reserved for VIPs. Some of the units were curtained off shielding the occupants from the curious looks of the ‘peasants’ downstairs. But not Vance’s and Nic found him in a matter of seconds. The man was lounging on a couch surrounded by a bevy of beauties and RayRay.
Nic and Diego traded a look then made their way up the stairwell. Up here, the music was a low throb rather than the ear-splitting racket downstairs. Nic bypassed three doors before he neared the one that barricaded Vance’s room.
Two men, wearing identical bandanas around their wrist and guns at their waists, stood guarding the door. When they saw Nic and Diego, they straightened and placed their hands on their guns threateningly. Move along.
They never had a chance to fire their weapons.
Once minute they were scowling at Nic, the next both had crumpled to the floor with their hands clasping their throats. While Diego disarmed them, Nic stepped over the prone guards and pushed the door open.
Vance was busy making out with his girls, but the moment Nic walked into the room he turned his attention to him. A gun, seemingly out of thin air, appeared in his hand and he pointed it at Nic.
Nic smiled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
His eyes slipped from Vance’s face to center on the tiny red dot on the other man’s black jacket, just as Vance noticed it too.
CHAPTER 7
“Put it down.” Nic gestured to the gun Vance held. He pointedly stared at the red laser dot bouncing ominously on the other man’s chest. “My friend doesn’t like it when I’m threatened.”
Rafaél was behind the sniper circle on Vance and the barely visible, pencil-thin beam emanating outward from the dot to merge with the club’s strobe lights. He’d take out Vance if the man so much as fired a shot. And if he didn’t, Diego, who was behind Nic with his own gun out, would finish the job.
Vance’s expressionless gaze showed no fear of the sniper circle. His arm didn’t drop and his gun remained trained on Nic. Sensing an eminent gun fight, Vance’s scantily-clad girls had scrambled to one corner of the nook. They were huddled together, fear pouring out of their trembling bodies in heavy waves. RayRay, on the other hand, was oblivious to the showdown between Vance and Nic. He lay knocked out on the couch, a line of white powder on the glass table in front of him.
“Put it down,” Nic repeated as he strode forward.
Vance’s weapon never faltered, but he didn’t shoot either.
Nic settled on the other side of the couch. He planted his arms across the backrest, looking around the cozy alcove. “Do you know how easy it was to find you?”
Vance’s eyes were pinpoints and his voice was icy as he spoke for the first time. “Maybe I wanted to be found.”
“We have business to discuss, Esé.” Nic gestured dismissively towards the girls. “Send them away.”
Vance grinned then motioned with his free hand in their general direction. “Camilla, come here.”
A raven-haired girl inched her way forward. Her petite body vibrated with fear and she shot Nic a frightened look as she stopped in front of Vance. He yanked her roughly between his outspread legs. “On your knees.” When she did, he unzipped his pants and shoved her head downwards. “Get to work.”
Though disgusted, Nic kept his expression blasé. If Vance hoped that his uncouth antics would faze Nic, he’d be sorely disappointed. Nic settled back in the seat, his eyes unwavering from the other man.
Despite the fumbling activities of the girl kneeling in front of him, Vance voice was remarkably even when he asked, “What kind of business you got for me?”
“Not here.” Nic’s eyes slipped to the girl’s bent head then back to Vance. His tone was laced with snobbish mockery as he added, “I find this environment isn’t conducive for me.” He pulled a white card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and stood. He flicked the card insolently in Vance’s general direction.
It fluttered to the ground by the man’s shoe. And for the first time that night, Nic saw real anger in the other man’s eyes. It was just a flicker and quickly extinguished, but it was there.
Nic chuckled. “Meet me there in two hours.”
With those words he left the VIP section, confident he’d achieved his goal.
Hezekiah Vance had never been a man who took insult well. The last person who’d dared talk back to him was at the bottom of Lake Merritt with forty pound weights strapped to each of his limbs. No one! No one talked to him the way the man from Club Nox had. He didn’t know who the man was. But he would pay dearly.
“Drop everyone in that car ‘cept for the dog,” he ordered into his phone. He inhaled from his blunt deeply before saying, “I got something of my own for his cocky ass.”
“A’ight,” the Runner on the other end of the line agreed.
“And keep filming. I wanna see them squealing like pigs.”
Vance gaze swung to one of the three flat screens that interspersed the stretch limo’s rear cabin. On it, real live feed, of the lot outside the deserted warehouse the man from the club had directed him to, played. The video shook as the person shooting it walked to his position behind a row of deep blue containers. Vance himself was parked behind the warehouse, ready to collect the man from the club when his men picked him.
Vance
and the Runners had arrived an hour earlier than ordered to the meeting. Meeting? Ha! Vance had nothing to say to that man. This little meeting was actually the man from the club’s appointment with death. He wouldn’t be using that pretentious tone of voice for anything other than to scream for mercy.
Vance smiled, anticipating the ear-splitting screams. Blood rushed through his body as he reveled at the thought of slicing off the man’s fingers one by one. Adrenaline seeped into his muscles as he imagined putting a bullet through the man’s head and splattering his brains. He shifted in his seat, turned on by his own musings.
“Mother fuckers don’t know me.” RayRay’s mutter interrupted the older man’s thoughts. He was slumped on the other side of the limo, high out of his mind and his eyes closed as he mumbled, “They don’t know me.”
Vance shot him a disgusted look. Every day, he woke up he had to convince himself not to put a bullet in the strung-out bastard’s brains and take him out of his misery. If he wasn’t for his immense luck to be Big Ray’s son, he’d be six feet under by now.
Having been tossed in to the foster care system at three, Vance didn’t know what family was until he met Big Ray. Big Ray had shown him what family was. He’d taken Vance out of the gutter and transformed him from a small time thug into what he was now – a force to be reckoned with. On discovering he had cancer, Big Ray had surprised everyone by handing Vance the keys to the kingdom. His condition was that Vance keep his brother, RayRay as his right hand man.
Brother. No way in hell they were brothers. Vance was the real deal while RayRay was just another silverspooner playing at being a thug. He had no real stomach for this life. That’s why daddy had turn to people like Vance to watch his back and keep his legacy. Vance should’ve been Big Ray’s real son. He should’ve inherited not just the kingdom, but the money that came with it too.
Fuck being brothers.
The only reason RayRay was alive was because without him Vance couldn’t afford his current lifestyle. What was the point of being king if you couldn’t live like one? In the last year, the Runners had made some millions here and there. But it was nothing compared to RayRay’s inheritance and it had to be split a thousand different ways before it even got to Vance.