“So when he came back, I had my duffle bag in hand. That’s when we argued. I told him I couldn’t be around him anymore. He wouldn’t let me go, so I shoved him and ran for the door, but he caught me. I fought back, and the next thing I know, I’m out cold and I wake up here. The night I argued with Ace, that’s when Maurice told me he would kill him for making me ‘unhappy’. He said it right into my ear as he pretended to comfort me on the balcony. I was shocked. I knew he didn’t want to kill Ace for my sake, but for his. And I think he knew I’d figured him out and saw right through him when I tried to leave. He claimed he was keeping me safe—protecting me—but I didn’t need protection from Ace. I know him more than he knows himself. I can’t believe I was foolish enough to believe the shit Maurice was spewing out of his mouth. I should’ve known better. This is my fault.”
“No,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Bianca, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want to say it, but I don’t think he’s doing this because he wants to be with you. He told you the part about Ace being taken and beaten by some ex-cop?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“That was Maurice. He was in charge of that.”
“Yeah, I figured.” More sniffling along with a feeble moan. “Oh, God. I can’t believe this!”
“Bianca, we can’t be weak right now. We have to get out of here. He has Aden. Greg has been working with him. All of this was set up by Maurice. My whole relationship with Greg was staged. Did you know that?”
“No! Oh my fucking goodness. That stupid son of a bitch! And to think I actually backed Greg up!” Her chain rattles and half of her face is revealed from the single light above.
When I see her face, mascara running down her cheeks, I know she’s damaged. But like me, she’s keeping her head held high. She’s ready to fight—fight for what we deserve.
Freedom.
A better life.
I can’t believe our luck. This was never over. For a while, I thought we were free, but we weren’t. All this time we were in Maurice’s grasp, ready to be taken away as soon as his developing plan was ready to hatch.
“We have to get the fuck out of here,” Bianca hisses, looking towards the window. I look with her. The sun is higher in the sky. Dawn.
“We will.”
She peers down at the shackles around her wrist. “I don’t even know where we are.”
“We still have to be in Cali. Maurice wants something, and it’s obviously not from us, but Ace. The only place Ace will come back to is here if he figures out that Maurice is behind this.”
“Where is he?” she whispers
“… He went back to New York. He had a lead with Stella Baker.”
“Fuck,” she curses beneath her breath. “It could take hours—maybe even days before he actually figures this out.”
“That’s why we have to get out of here and find a way to contact him.”
“I don’t know London…” Her voice is perplexed. “This is risky. He has Aden. What if he does something to him?”
“Nothing will happen to my son.” Anger splurges, lighting me on fire. “Nothing.” Her eyes expand, staring across the room. I match my stare with hers, and when she finally looks away, I sigh, stepping back and lowering to the ground. I wrap my arms around my legs, looking towards the scratched brown door to my left.
We sit in silence for at least ten minutes. She’s most likely thinking of a way to get out of here, just like me. With these cuffs, I’m not sure what all I’ll be able to accomplish, but something must be done. If I have to cut my arm off to get my son, I will. No obstacle is impossible to overcome when the life of my child is in danger.
Several minutes later, footsteps sound outside the door. I whip my head up, pointing my line of sight towards it. It swings open, hitting the wall with a thud, and light swims in—a bold, bright light, and silhouetted in the middle is a tall, familiar frame. My lip twitches as he walks in, his heavy boots crunching on the cement floor.
He flips a switch, and a light from above illuminates the entire room. I shield my eyes as I look up, right into Greg’s cold blue eyes. “Morning ladies,” he chimes.
We don’t speak. Just stare at him with hatred.
“Well, good news is Crow will be here before we know it. We filled him in on everything. Just waiting on him to arrive.” His tone pisses me the fuck off. It’s the same cheery tone he used when he used to come downstairs for breakfast or home from work with what I thought was a warm, sincere greeting. “Ah, London.” He walks in my direction, squatting in front of me. “You look awful, babe.” The back of his hand runs down my cheek, slow and rough. I jerk my face away, glowering.
“What is wrong with you?” I whisper, voice dark.
“Me?” His eyebrows elevate. “What’s wrong with me?” he laughs. “I don’t think I was the one sneaking around behind your back, sleeping with someone else, and lying straight to your face about it.” The sneer on his lips disappears as he looks me straight in the eyes. “And to think,” he sighs. “…I was just starting to like you. We could’ve made something work.”
“You don’t have to work for him, you know.” Bianca’s voice interrupts our stare down. I look towards her as Greg does. “Ace has way more money than Maurice. He’s a lot stronger, and I thought Maurice was much wiser, but I was wrong because he’s actually going through with this stupid plan. The moment he thought about taking Ace down, he fucked up. Ace can’t be defeated. He couldn’t take him down before, and he won’t take him down this time. He won’t go down without a fight. He was already angry about what happened to him, but now that Maurice is messing with his family—his loved ones—he’s just adding fuel to a fire that’s already burning. He’ll make sure Maurice and everything he owns burns right to the ground.”
Greg’s face is blank for a mere moment. For a second, I think he’s considering it. I’m wrong. Standing up straight, he walks to the middle of the room, glaring down at Bianca. “Is that what you think?”
She narrows her eyes. “It’s what I know.”
He laughs, tossing his head back. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Ace has nothing, and he has no one. He’s alone. He has no team. You really think he can take every single one of us down?” He holds a hand up, pointing at the window. “There are at least eight men here, ready to extinguish that so-called ‘fire’.”
“Don’t underestimate him,” I snap at his back. He peers over his shoulder, one eyebrow inclined. “He came back. He didn’t give up, and he damn sure didn’t die. That alone should terrify you. Maurice should’ve just killed him when he had the chance.”
“But see”—he shakes his head, waving a finger—“that’s the thing. I’m not afraid of him. We have an army. He has himself. He won’t win again. Nah…” He smirks demonically. “Not this time.”
My eyes thin. “What the hell are you getting out of this anyway, Greg?”
He steps toward the door, that same smirk on his lips. “Everything.”
“Like what?” Bianca demands.
He looks around the room, blowing out an unnecessary breath. “More than enough money so I never have to work in an office again. Freedom. Power. See, Maurice and I made a deal. I had word that the remains the police found at the crime scene weren’t Ace’s. Very confidential case. It was hard to actually get inside and see what was in the case file, but I have my connections. They believe he’s still out there, but no one’s looking for him. They think he’s long gone, out of the country, but if someone catches him, dead or alive, that person gets paid more money than they know what to do with. The bounty hunters gave up looking years ago. Police called it off.
“When you planned on moving here, Maurice knew you’d be too far and he wouldn’t have eyes on you. Maurice heard I was still doing some research on the case—I mean we all know how boring it gets in Creole—so while I was in New York for an officer ceremony, he found me and that night, we decided to team up. He told me to get close to you just in case anything went wrong with his
plan. Maurice gets what he wants from Ace and I get what I want… having the title as the infamous Greg Price, a great captain known for taking Ace Crow down for good. His body will be proof. They will praise me for the rest of my life.” He grins wickedly. “So, like I said—” he breathes, as if he’s just finished a race—“I will have everything I need.”
“He’ll just kill you in the end,” Bianca mutters. “Maurice is greedy. He’ll turn the body in himself, take the money, and run.
“That won’t happen. I’ll kill him before he ever lays a finger on me. I’ve got myself covered.” Smirking, he walks toward the door, but I shout his name, standing. He stops and turns slowly, icy gaze flashing from the light.
“Is Aden okay?”
Nostrils flaring, he snatches his eyes away, looking forward. “He’s fine.” He steps out, but before the door shuts, he says, “I may seem selfish in this moment, but that’s a child, and I would never let anything happen to him. Unlike Crow and the men that surround him, I still have a soul. Fortunately, he doesn’t know what’s going on and he doesn’t deserve to be threatened or harmed. Once mommy and daddy and auntie are gone, who knows”—he presses his lips—“maybe I’ll take over. Raise him as my own. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t deserve to be killed because his mother chose the wrong man.”
Although he bashes me right in my face, hearing that Aden is okay relieves a small part of me. He won’t let anything happen to Aden. That’s good. Even if something does happen to me, he’ll be safe in the end. Though I refuse to put my guard down, in Greg’s eyes, I can tell he means what he’s saying. He cares for Aden, maybe not as much as he does for me, but he’s always had a good connection with him. It never seemed faked or forced. It seemed real. Genuine. Was it his idea to keep Aden out of this room? Somewhere that, I hope, is more comfortable?
Unfortunately, I’m not given the chance to ask because the door slams shut, and he walks away. That was a soft spot for Greg. He reacted way differently than I thought he would.
“He’s pretending to be cold and heartless, but I can tell he still cares,” I exhale. “I think, deep down, I hurt him, that he really did love me. Maybe he thought Ace would never come back, that he was in the clear to keep me for life. You saw how he reacted at the mention of Aden. Aden’s safe somewhere, and Ace is on his way. All I have to do is put a little pressure on him, make him see that this is wrong. Greg is a good guy and, like he said, he still has a soul. He can’t be all dirty.”
“You think so?” she asks. Her voice sounds hopeless.
I nod. “Maybe. But it doesn’t mean he’ll let us go.”
She crosses her legs Indian style and sighs, almost defeated. “Unless Ace finds us, we’re our only hope.” Tucking her matted, trimmed hair behind her ear, she looks up at the ceiling, and her upper lip twinges. “Well, at least he left the light on.”
I shake my head. The last thing on my mind is laughter, but I laugh anyway. If there’s someone to be trapped with, it’s her. She knows me just as well as I know her. We’re like sisters, maybe not by blood but by heart and spirit.
We’re getting out of here. Whether she feels the hope I have or not, I know we’re getting out. If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead already.
We survive. We live. But instead of only fighting for what we believe in, we fight until our last breath is stolen. We fight because we’re strong and because we always find a way to make it.
Heavy In Your Arms – Florence + The Machine
It was the longest flight of my fucking life.
Every minute I worried something was going wrong, that maybe one of them was already dead or all of them and Maurice was just pretending to keep them alive. I don’t negotiate. That’s a hell-fucking-no.
At the end of all of this, I will have everything including my family. He will have nothing, not even his own life. While on the flight, I realized I couldn’t be calm about this shit.
He’s fucking with my life.
Fucking with my family.
Fucking with my sanity.
He’s fucked with the wrong one.
As soon as the jet lands, Trent and I hop into his Bugatti and drive to the nearest gun dealer. Don’t come armed, my ass. Trent pulls up in the alley, and I glance over my shoulder as he climbs out of the car, peering over his before placing his sunglasses on. “All set?”
“All set. The place was completely empty.”
“Good.” After buying three thousand dollars worth of firearms, I pay our dealer and we’re on our way to Creole.
“How many men do you think will be there?” Trent asks as he puts the car in drive and pulls off.
I load my gun, cocking the barrel. “Most of his men are in New York. I’d say six to eight are here.”
“Only two of us. You realize that, right?”
“Yep.”
“Are you going to give him what he wants?”
I crush my lips together, giving Trent a hard, stale face. “Is that even a question that should be asked?”
He lifts his hand in the air rapidly before grasping the wheel again. “Hey, things change. First you said you would, but now you’re loading guns, getting ready for a showdown.”
“Nah.” I load another one. “That motherfucker won’t get anything but his heart ripped out.” I look out the passenger window, feeling all of the rage consume me again. I still can’t wrap my head around it being Maurice.
Can’t trust anyone.
“It’s three-fifty.” Trent informs me of the time. He parks the car across the street from an abandoned house. I watch the windows, eyes narrowed.
“I know.”
“Why would they be here?”
I look down at the tracker in my lap. I bought it as soon as I was free of Nixon’s hell cell, and while I was on the phone with Maurice—as he taunted me and carried on and on like I knew he would—I marked this as his current location. An abandoned home only six miles away from London’s home makes sense.
I don’t feel the need to answer Trent right away because my answer comes walking right out the front door. On his cellphone is Greg. The sight of him makes me snarl. My upper lip peels back, fists clenched.
“Fucking bitch,” Trent mutters.
Greg hops into his truck and pulls off immediately, most likely on his way to London’s place, expecting me. If he’s here, then that must mean they’re here as well. Whipping my gun out, I tell Trent to come on and rush across the street, gun hot and ready.
They wouldn’t leave them here alone. Someone’s around, most likely one person. He’ll send as many men as he can to be at the place I’m supposed to be. It’s what I’d do. In order to beat the enemy you must think like the enemy.
I circle the house, steps slow and cautious. I hear deep laughter coming from the backyard. Pulling my silencer out, I twist it onto my gun, and once Trent’s is on I rush back, spotting a bald, bulky man with tattoos on his forearms and neck on a cell phone.
“Oh shit!” Spotting us, he drops the phone with haste and starts to reach for the gun in his holster but it’s too late. I pull the trigger, a bullet penetrating the center of his skull. His heavy body collapses, and I walk towards him, staring down at the blood pooling around him.
Trent bends down to pick up the keys in his hand. “These aren’t car or house keys. Might be useful.” He stands up straight, clutching them in hand.
I nod, turning towards the balcony door. It’s open. Anyone could be inside. I tell Trent to cover me as I walk in. He follows closely behind, keeping check of our surroundings. The floor creaks when I step onto the peeling linoleum, and I pause, watching the kitchen intently. Nothing sounds but the dripping faucet. Someone else is here. I can feel it. It’s too fucking quiet.
Lifting my gun, I check the entire kitchen, then the living room, and next the vacant bedrooms. All empty.
“All clear,” I murmur from inside.
Trent walks in right away, gun still held high. Cocking his head to the left, Trent motions to another d
oor.
I look from him to the brown door. Stepping past him, my gun pointed at the door, I walk as quietly as I can towards it and when I reach it, I twist the knob slowly.
Someone groans, and I place my finger on the trigger, snatching the door open completely and turning on the light switch. But the face I see causes me to drop my guard immediately and run for them.
“Shit! London!” I pull her up in my arms. She groans in response. “I’m here, Red. Never should’ve left.” I examine her frail body, taking inventory of her injuries. Scratches and bruises on her arms, blood under her nails. She put up a fight. Greg knocked her unconscious. There’s a red blotch on the side of her head. Fuck. At least she’s still alive.
“Boss,” Trent calls from the corner.
I look towards him, and in his arms is Bianca. Eyes wide, I place London down gently and rush for Bianca. Placing two fingers to her neck, I check her pulse. “Fuck, I don’t feel shit.”
Trent’s ear hovers over her mouth and nose. “She’s barely breathing.”
“What the fuck did he do to them?”
Anger— fury—returns with a vengeance all over again. I can’t let it fuck with my head. I have to keep it on straight. I have to think clearly. “Take her to the hospital and take London with you.”
He narrows his brows. “Boss—”
“Now, Trent.”
“Maurice… you can’t take him and those men by yourself.”
“I’ll try. Aden isn’t here, which means he still has him, and if anything, and I mean any fucking thing, happens to my son, I will raise hell.”
Trent shakes his head. “They’re going to try and massacre you, Ace. You know that, whether they get what they want or not.”
Beware 2: The Comeback Page 20