“Jeremy!” an enforcer by the door shouts. “These three were left in his van!”
I wheel around. A squad of muscle-bound goons shoves Miles, Brisko, and Jayden into the ballroom. They’re stripped of their handguns and have rifles in their back.
I return my attention to Jeremy. I’m at a loss for words.
Rodger steps forward. “What’s going on?” he asks, his voice a little too innocent for the occasion. I grab him and pull him back. This isn’t going to end well.
“I’m glad you asked, brother,” Jeremy replies. He straightens his designer suit and smooths his tie. “I’ve decided that our little turf war has gone on long enough. And, since our father was going about it all the wrong way, I handled it myself.”
The guests whoop and cheer.
“What do you mean?” Rodger asks. “Where’s our father?”
Jeremy snaps his fingers, and Nick is dragged from the back corner of the room, his hands bound behind his back and a strip of duct tape tight around his head and firmly into his mouth. He looks like he’s been struggling—his hair is clumped together with blood—but he’s still alive.
“Dad?” Rodger asks. He goes to step forward again, but I keep my hold on his arm.
Jeremy smiles a dark smile. “With Harlan gone, it’s just the Vice family in charge. But I think it’s time for a change in management.”
He pulls his heavy .45 and blows a hole in Nick’s head before anyone can voice their opinion. The room explodes into laughter and clapping, but I hold my breath. Nick’s limp body slumps into the pool of body parts that fills the center of the room. The bang of the gun rings in my ears.
“Jeremy!” Rodger barks, his voice cracking with newfound rage. “How could you?” He struggles to get out of my grip, but I hold him back. Doesn’t he see what’s happening?
“Bring him over here,” Jeremy says with a laugh. The incessant cheering makes it difficult to hear, but Jeremy’s voice is distinct.
Enforcers circle me and Rodger. They take Nick’s oldest son, and I remain standing where they left me. They manhandle Rodger and throw him into the middle of the room. Before Rodger can plead, argue, or debate, Jeremy cocks his gun and does it all over again—another harsh bang fills the ballroom, and Rodger jerks back and twitches to the ground, half his face missing from the blast.
“There’s only one person who’s going to inherit my father’s estate,” Jeremy says, eliciting another round of cheers as he holsters his gun. “And it ain’t going to be my deadbeat of a brother or worthless sister!”
The “joke” is well received by the drunkards and scum that surround us.
Jeremy turns and motions to a man in the crowd. “Diver? You have anyone else you need to make an example of before we solidify our arrangement?”
The one-armed man—Diver—shakes his head and gestures for Jeremy to continue. “I had my fun earlier,” he calls out. “Besides. Your main enforcer took care of the King Cobra himself. Everyone knows I’m in charge now.”
I’ve never spoken to Diver, and I don’t know much about the man, but I can put one and two together. He and Jeremy are two peas in a pod. They’re both disgusting, ugly men, inside and out, who got shafted with second place, so to speak, and now they’re working together to claim what’s “rightfully theirs.” They made an alliance. Jeremy would kill dissenters to Diver’s rule, and Diver would kill dissenters to Jeremy’s rule, all in the name of a turf war. Now, with no one left above them, they’ve come together to claim the city like a pair of fucked-up lovebirds.
This isn’t a party. It’s an execution of everyone who still harbors loyalty to the old rulers.
They’re gonna shoot us all one at time.
“Brisko!” Jeremy says, mimicking a game show announcer. “Come over here. I need you to stand in the middle of the room, buddy.”
Brisko hesitates. He glances around, his drifting eyes scanning the faces of the crowd as if looking for the solution to his problem. The correct course of action is to do whatever the fuck Jeremy tells him. It’s not like he’s going to ham-hand his way out this situation.
Brisko comes to the conclusion by himself and walks into the center of the room with heavy steps.
“How long did you work for my father?” Jeremy asks.
“Four years,” Brisko replies through a thick mouth-breathing huff.
“Why did you start working for him?”
“Money.”
“You still want money? You gonna work for me?”
“Yeah.”
The infantile way Jeremy speaks to Brisko is so patronizing it’s laughable. The audience gets it too. They snicker and point, and someone mutters something about “shooting the giant retard.” I grit my teeth.
Jeremy answers with a slow nod. “That’s what I wanted to hear, big guy. Get in line and enjoy the benefits of better business. We’re a bigger organization now. The cash flow will be unstoppable.”
More cheering. More whooping. More drunken toasts.
I understand what Santiago was talking about now. He knew this would happen. He knew.
“Pierce,” Jeremy says, drawing me back to reality in a painful way. “I really am impressed. You killed Malloy and escaped the Cobras. I knew you couldn’t be stopped. I told them not to kill you, but I never imagined you’d be such a thorn in their side. My father was right to keep you around all these years.”
The audience gets quiet, and I can hear my own heartbeat. I wasn’t afraid of dying in the Cobras’ den, so why am I now? I mentally chuckle to myself. I know why. I was so close to getting out of this business that I started to believe I would leave Noimore behind for good. I should’ve known better. I should’ve known I’d never get out.
I stop myself from glancing back at Miles. I should’ve sent him away before this. It’s my fault he’s here.
“You sure this enforcer of yours is going to stay loyal to you?” Diver drawls, his gaze locked on me and his only hand gripped tight on a bottle of wine. “He hasn’t said a damn thing since he’s arrived. He’s shell-shocked.”
Jeremy chortles. “Oh, don’t worry. Pierce—tell them. Where do your loyalties lie?”
All eyes are on me.
I swallow and take a deep breath. “The Vice family,” I reply, my voice unsteady.
“That’s right. The Vice family. And who’s in charge of the Vice family?”
I don’t see Anita, but I don’t doubt she’s dead. “You.”
“That’s right. Me. Remember how we talked about your loyalty once my father died?”
“I remember,” I force myself to say.
I get it. He’s trying to save face while saving me—if only because he wants me for his own personal reasons—so why am I still shaken?
Miles. It’s because of Miles. What reason is there to save him? Why wouldn’t Jeremy kill him? What am I going to do about it?
Diver gestures with his head. “He’s dangerous. How’re you sure he’s not gonna turn on you? He was Big Man Vice’s right-hand man for two decades. That’s a long fuckin’ time.”
The audience absorbs the drama like a sponge. They watch intently, and I can feel the hate from half the crowd. Some men here want me dead. Others just want to see me beg. I don’t have many friends—not with Nick dead.
“Jeremy,” I say with a chuckle, the sound more nervous than jovial. “I didn’t know you had it in you to orchestrate all this.”
He narrows his eyes and waits.
I take a step forward and spot a handful of thugs reaching for their guns. I continue on regardless, sauntering over with my hands in plain sight.
“To be honest, I thought you were more like Rodger.” I gesture to the corpse without looking at it. “But I can see now you’re more shrewd and cunning than even your father.”
His eyes light up as he attempts to restrain a smirk. He loves eating up compliments.
I walk through a small pool of blood, careful not to slip on the warm, slick substance. I stop once I’m in front of J
eremy—only a foot away—staring down at him with an easy smile.
“You know how I have a weakness for strong men—men like you.”
Jeremy runs a hand along his flushed and hideous face. “Yes,” he murmurs with a husky breath. “I do. I knew you would come around once my father was out of the way. You’re attracted to power.”
“Exactly.”
“So now I want you to prove it to Diver.”
I lift my eyebrows. “What?”
“Get on your knees, Pierce.”
The crowd murmurs in anticipation. I suspect most don’t care for “man on man” action, but they do want to see me grovel or—in some cases—they get their rocks off on humiliation of the worst degree.
I hate Jeremy with an ever-growing passion but… this isn’t about me.
I fall to one knee and then the other, my breathing shallow. Eyes focus in like a harsh spotlight. With shaky hands I reach for Jeremy’s belt.
He stops me and utters a tsk tsk tsk. He grabs my chin and forces me to stare up at him. He’s excited—the bulge in his pants isn’t going away anytime soon—and his eyes have a lustful glint I’ve never seen before. Before I can ask what he wants of me, Jeremy pulls his handgun from his shoulder holster and runs it along my lips.
I drag my tongue along the underside of the barrel. Jeremy really likes that. He forces the weapon into my mouth, and the cold, jagged metal cuts my cheek. I suck on it regardless, ignoring the roar of exuberant cheering and laughter as the gangsters get a kick out of my submission. I block out the reality—if Jeremy wants me to blow his gun, I’m gonna blow his gun.
“Heh,” Diver says once the crowd dies down enough for conversation. “I knew he was a sick fuck, but I didn’t know he was this flavor of whore. No wonder Big Man Vice kept him around.”
Another roar of laughter. Jeremy withdraws the gun barrel from my mouth and wipes it off on my shirt. “Get up, Pierce,” he says, his voice quiet enough for me alone. “We’ll have fun later, I promise.”
I stand—a cold calm permeating my being.
“Who are these two?” some asshole from the crowd says, motioning to Jayden and Miles.
The crowd turns to them. Miles attempts to hold back his brother, but Jayden seems to have something to say.
“I’m with the Cobras!” Jayden shouts. “I am! I should be celebrating with you guys.” He glances around until he meets the gaze of someone he knows. “Tell ’em, Tony.”
The man he called out to doesn’t say anything. Jayden turns his attention to another. “I’m one of you!”
The kid’s never been in a gang before. Gangsters will help each other out when it’s good for them to do so, but they don’t help you when it’s gonna jeopardize everything. Anyone who vouches for Jayden is running the risk of getting thrown into the center of the room for another bang-n-splat performance.
Jayden learns his lesson under the gaze of a few hundred eyes—the sting of embarrassment a terrible punctuation. Miles doesn’t care. He pulls his brother back and shields him, his own expression unreadable. He knows he’s in danger, and he turns his attention to me.
Diver shrugs. “Isn’t one of these kids Pierce’s boy toy? What’re you gonna do about that, Jeremy? Let him keep a side thing?”
He’s a comedian as far as the crowd is concerned. They laugh at every little taunt he has to say.
“I don’t care about fuck-things,” Jeremy says with a shrug.
I take a deep breath, but my relief doesn’t last long.
“He’s no fuck-boy,” Donny chimes in from the other side of the room. “I’ve seen them together. They’ve been kissin’ and starin’ into each other’s eyes like they’re lovers! It’s true! I saw the whole thing!”
I think most people in the audience are drunk, or else they’re just cruel, as even that line of reasoning gets another round of laughter. I knew they wouldn’t appreciate an actual relationship between men—I told Miles we couldn’t be like that in front of others—I just didn’t think Donny of all people would be the one to throw me under a bus.
While the crowd has its outburst, I turn and lean in close to Jeremy—close enough to have my breath on his neck. “Let him go and I’ll make it worth your while.”
Jeremy smirks up at me. “I’m the jealous type, Pierce. I don’t want you straying.”
“You wanna see me beg, right?”
“I’d like that.”
I get in close and lick the ridge of his ear. “I’ll do it every night if you do me this one favor.”
I’d threaten, but I know Jeremy. He’s got an ego that can’t be satisfied. He’d never go for a deal that involved him looking weak.
Jeremy pushes me back and motions to the corner of the room with his personal thugs. “Wait over there, Pierce. I have a business to run.”
The energy in the room gets explosive once again. Miles and Jayden are sacrificial goats. Diver gestures for Jeremy to continue, and the youngest Vice boy pulls his handgun up and aims.
For a split second my heart stops. He pulls the trigger. I’m on the verge of leaping at him to sink my teeth into his throat for a savage animal kill when I realize what he’s done.
Jayden hits the floor on his back, his legs sprawled. Miles ducks down and grabs him—the bullet had hit Jayden’s chest. With a few quick breaths, Miles suppresses a mild case of hyperventilation. The surrounding men laugh.
“I never liked that kid anyway,” Tony says, pointing.
“There we go,” Jeremy says. “We split the difference. One whore can remain and the other is gutter trash.”
“Did you get Pierce’s boy toy?” Diver asks, earnestly confused.
“Eh. Who can tell Asians apart. Am I right?”
Drunken laughter rings in my ears. I know it to be a lie—Jeremy took my offer. Jayden and Miles might look damn near identical, but Jeremy knew Miles before. Jeremy says what he has to in order to save face.
The muscle of the party goes in to move the corpses off the floor. I grab Brisko and point him toward Miles and Jayden. “Take them out of here,” I command. “And give Miles this.” I shove the safe deposit box key into Brisko’s mighty hand and urge him to hurry with a forceful shove. The man nods and hustles over to help with the lifting.
Jeremy walks to my side and gives me a knowing smirk. “If I see you two together, it’ll be a different story,” he mutters.
“I know.”
“Don’t think I won’t have men follow him either. I’ll always know, Pierce. This is my city now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE CRYSTAL Floor Nightclub isn’t what it used to be.
Music plays, sure, and drinks are served to the guests, but the place has a seedy feel akin to a porno theater or “massage parlor.” The waiters and waitresses are treated as objects for amusement, the floors are sticky, and the smoke overhead is a mix of chemicals. It’s like the establishment is reveling in its debauchery rather than trying to maintain an air of class and sophistication.
But I don’t fuckin’ care.
I stare out across the dance floor without seeing the people around me. After one cigarette I pound down a few shots and chase it all with yet another cigarette. If I’m not burning my taste buds, I’m drowning them—either way it doesn’t help get the foul taste out of my mouth.
Jeremy runs his hand up my inner thigh. I let him touch me as he pleases, numb to the sensations.
“You’ve had enough for one night,” he says, motioning the waiter away when he comes to refill my drink. “I want you sober for later.”
I take a long drag of my cigarette and exhale through my nose.
“We had problems down at the docks last night,” Diver says. “Some cops are getting in the way of operations.”
Jeremy rests back onto the leather seat of the booth. “We’ll have to find a way to deal with them, then.”
“How did Big Man Vice deal with cops that got uppity?”
“What does it matter how my father handled it?” Jeremy
growls. “I’m in charge. I’ll deal with it.”
His anger is amusing in a pathetic way. He doesn’t know how his father dealt with things—if he did, this situation wouldn’t have become a problem.
Oh well.
The dim atmosphere messes with my sight, but I know the Cobras from the old Vice family enforcers by the way they hold themselves. A Cobras stooge rolls up to the booth and attempts to take a seat next to me. I rear one leg up and kick him hard, sending him to the floor in one violent shove. He gets to his feet, gun in hand, but I already have mine out and ready.
“Pierce, behave,” Jeremy says.
I return my gun to its holster and continue with my smoke. It’s hard to feel much these days, but anger still gets my heart rate going. I like getting angry, which is an odd thought, and Cobras punks just give me an excuse.
Jeremy addresses the newcomer with a one-sided smile. “Never mind my dog. What did you come here for?”
The man doesn’t attempt to sit. Smart move.
“Guinevere called,” the guy says. “She’s on her way from the airport. She’ll be here shortly.”
I perk up at the mention of her name.
Jeremy waves the guy away. “Good. Bring her to my table when she arrives.”
Guinevere… I had hoped she would stay away. Jeremy hadn’t been able to find her, and I thought she’d stay hidden forever, but news of her parents’ death must have reached her, because she called out of the blue to see if the rumors were true.
She and Jeremy had a long talk. At first he wanted to kill her—to take the Vice family estate for himself—but after their little discussion, he changed his tone. He wants her help.
I laugh and take another long drag. It’s probably because he’s floundering. Running a mob isn’t like running a McDonald’s, that’s for sure. Jeremy doesn’t have the experience, even if he likes to think he does.
I glance around the nightclub and take stock of the individuals. A lot of “leaders” came to meet Guinevere tonight.
That’s another problem with the streets these days… too many people think they’re in charge. With Nick you knew who had the authority. With Diver and Jeremy, it’s hit-or-miss. They don’t have a handle on it like they should.
Vice City Page 24