by Keta Kendric
The standoff continued, no one dropping their weapons, but not firing either. They were smart enough to stand down, knowing I had people out there that they couldn’t see.
I was curious as to where the extra guns had come from since I had pinpointed red dots pinned to the chest of nearly every Haitian brave enough to show his face. The backup I had called was deadly, discreet, and devilish enough to turn the lights out in hell. However, there was enough fire power aimed at the Haitians to take out the entire neighborhood.
Once I got Tash into the back seat and shut her inside, I returned to my place next to my men. My calculating gaze scanned all of the men aiming guns at us. Most kept glancing at Trench, who was splayed out as an example of what happens when you’re shot in the head with a 7.62-millimeter machine gun round.
His head was laid open like a busted melon as most of his brains had become insect and crow food. His body was folded back on his legs that appeared to have already been stiffening.
At the moment, I was high on adrenaline and therefore took comfort in the idea that my death would likely be swift if it did come now. However, Arjen kept popping into my head, reminding me that I needed to be more careful with my life.
“Marshawn, Shockey, and Torch, lower your weapons,” I ordered. They lowered their weapons, which caused some of Trench’s men to lower theirs. Some conversed back and forth with each other, likely questioning what to do in the face of their boss’s death. Most had discovered that they were targets and pointed out to the others the red dots dancing over them.
“Angel. Devil. Kill the leaders. Forty-eight hours. I want to see proof.”
Marshawn, Shockey, and Torch glared like I had lost my mind.
“Who are you talking to?” Marshawn asked. I tapped a finger to my ear, alerting that I had at least planned for back up and that I had not carelessly risked their lives.
“There is at least one more that forced himself on Tash. I want him alive,” I finished the order I was putting in. I stood in place, taking in the faces of the men I would be responsible for killing.
“It will be done, boss,” Angel’s voice sounded in my ear.
“You have given me a gift,” Devil replied.
Angel was a smooth killer. She would do her job, and she would do it swiftly and with precision: clean and orderly. Devil was somewhat of a different case. She was a precise type of killer, and although she was an expert behind a sniper rifle, the woman loved taking her time with death. She lived to make her victims suffer. If you got between her and a kill, you were next.
Devil was a former government agent who had worked mainly off-the-books cases. Angel was a former Marine. Devi and Angie were my idea of perfection, twins that had doctorate level degrees in the art of death, and they’d been my guardian angels for over four years.
They were who I called each time I knew I needed a little extra special help. A death order of the magnitude that I had just placed would launch a full-scale investigation, no matter where these men were located. I was certain that the FBI and maybe a few other high-level law enforcement agencies would take a peek.
Once the dust settled, I planned to make moves to take back the territory that Raymond had foolishly allowed the Haitians to have. Rumor had it, he had lost the territory in a card game. After the way he had gambled on the entire livelihood of the Black Saints, it was wise to believe the rumors were true.
Once we were all back inside the vehicle safely, we prepared to drive away without a hitch, leaving Trench’s men to clean up the mess I was leaving behind. I didn’t worry about them reporting me to the cops, and even if someone did, I wasn’t aiming a weapon when Trench’s brains were blown out.
I had climbed into the back seat next to Tash, who sat in the middle. I took her small hand, closing mine tight around hers as she laid her head on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Tash.”
When she started to say something, I shushed her.
“Relax for a minute. Take a moment and breathe,” I told her.
As we drove away, she lifted her head and stretched her neck to glance back at what had more than likely been her hell for the past twenty-four hours.
“Tash,” I whispered her name.
“Yes,” she answered, her small hand squeezing around mine.
“Who touched you beside Trench and the one holding the rope?”
26
Mecca
“Take us to Jackson Regional,” I instructed Marshawn. I was not taking Tash to that dump my cousin recovered in. I had considered upgrading Rayland to a better hospital, but he had been right where he needed to be.
“I’m okay, Mecca. I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Tash said, lifting her head from my shoulder.
“No. You’re not. I should have gotten you the fuck away from there the moment you started working for me.”
Most of the men that worked for me chose to live on or near the territory they ran. Although they preferred to stay close to where they worked, I made sure they had their own places.
Some wanted to get away from their families, and others wanted to upgrade their families. They all wanted better, and although slinging dope wasn’t a moral career path, it was all some of us had.
“I’ll get you your own place after you’re discharged from this hospital. And you will be going to boot camp. You have to know how to protect yourself,” I briefed, attempting a stern voice, but too emotional to pull it off.
I called it boot camp, but over the years, I had invested in a facility of my own with only top notch trainers like former military and former special forces types who ate, slept, and breathed effective survival and evasion methods.
My heart was hurting for Tash. No one would know my true level of despair because I had learned to suppress my emotions. They usually reemerged as anger.
“Okay,” Tash replied without protest. She didn’t know it, but she was on my shortlist of people I would go to hell for like my cousin, Desiree, and now my husband, who was probably going to kill me for pulling a stunt like this one.
There was no doubt in my mind, the extra fire power I spotted earlier was coming from men he had sent. He may have even been one of them.
Once I had Tash checked in to one of the best rooms in the hospital, I requested a private talk with her doctor.
“Doctor, this is a rather unorthodox thing to ask, but I’m asking that you not discharge her until I find her someplace else to live. I’ll pay whatever it will cost to keep her here longer.”
“Of course, Mrs. Vallin. I won’t know how extensive her injuries are until we run tests, but at a glance, I can see that she’s been beaten and possibly sexually assaulted. I think we should get a therapist to speak with her as well. How long are you thinking?”
“Thank you. I’m thinking a few weeks, until I can straighten a few things out. A therapist could do her a lot of good. She won’t listen to me.”
After I finished up with the doctor, the waiting room became my hang out spot while they worked on Tash. I needed to see her again before I left, to let her know that I would be there for her, especially after what she went through.
My buzzing disposable alerted that a text had come in.
“6” was the number that appeared and made up the whole text. It was Angel letting me know that six members of the Haitian crew were already dead. Knowing those two, no one would notice them missing until they stopped showing up.
Their bodies were never going to be found. If Angel and Devil weren’t injured or killed in the act, they weren’t getting caught. I had that much confidence in them because they had blessed me with some of their training.
Devil had taught me how to handle knives like an expert. Angel taught me everything I needed to know about guns and how to use and clean them properly. Because of those two, I had learned to kill with precision at a distance and with sharp intensity, up close and personal. My own crew didn’t know the level of effort I had put into arming myself with tactical knowledge and survi
val skills.
I rapped softly against Tash’s door, my knuckles barely connecting before stepping in. The IV taped to the back her hand was attached to a beeping machine that pushed clear liquids into her.
“Hey, Tash,” I said, stepping closer to the head of her bed. She looked like a little kid, no more than twelve. Thin, but strong. Angry blue and black bruises and scratches marred her neck and decorated her body. They had dressed her in one of those blue hospital gowns that swallowed her.
“They said they want to keep me, but I’m okay. I don’t need to stay here.”
I took her small hand, which was trembling despite the determination set in her expression. “I want you to stay here, Tash. Let these doctors and nurses do their job and take care of you. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. You may not feel it now, but once the realization of all you’ve been through comes to light in your head, trust me, you’re going to want to be here.”
I reached into my purse, took out a disposable, and handed it to her.
“If you need me, call me. I may not be able to make it right away, but if I say I’m coming, I’ll be here.”
“I know. I knew that if you found out the Haitians had me, that you or someone would come. You are the only person that has ever had my back. That’s why I wanted to work for you. You care if I live or die. You risked your life…”
Her eyes flooded with tears, and although she fought to keep them hidden, a rush of emotions shook her body.
“You risked your life to come and get me. No one, not even my own mother, has done anything like that for me before.”
The flow of my emotional energy caused the lump in my throat to grow bigger. I gripped her hand tighter, hoping to force in the mental strength she would eventually need to face what happened.
“Tash. It’s my fault you were in that mess in the first place. If I’d forced you to go to college and get away from this life, you wouldn’t be in this hospital.”
She was already shaking her head. She lifted her hand, showing me her wrist that was covered in scars.
“If I’d never met you, I’d probably be dead.” Her words stunned me, kept me quiet. “The first time I saw you, I was ten, and you were fighting a grown man near our projects. He beat you really good, but you never gave up. The crowd kept yelling for you to stay down, but you kept getting up.”
Images of the fight flashed in my head. I had gotten into it with one of the older dope boys who was jealous that I was outselling him. It was a few weeks before I was set to go off to college. While I should have been preparing for my new life, I was hanging out in the streets, fighting.
Tash cast a look of admiration in my direction but fighting in the streets and selling dope wasn’t something to admire.
“Finally, he stopped hitting you when he saw that you weren’t going to stop fighting until you beat him, or you were dead. He patted you on the back and started smiling like you two hadn’t even been fighting. It took my young mind a while to figure out what it all meant, but when I did understand, it became a motivational reminder for me not to give up either.”
She must have noticed my bemused expression.
“Trust me, Mecca, it’s bad when you’re ten, and your young mind knows what suicide is to the point where you contemplate it and try it.” She lifted her wrist again to flash me the self-inflicted cuts she had put there. “Then, someone like you comes along and made me want to be strong. Whenever you’d come around, I would watch you. You were fearless. You didn’t care what anyone said about you. You didn’t care if it was a man or a woman, you’d stand up for yourself. And you were always so neat and dressed up nice, not all trashy.”
“Thank you, Tash.” I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t allow her to keep praising all of my wrong behavior.
“Stay here for as long as they want to keep you. This place has a library, a pool, a chapel, and game room, you name it. Take advantage of the facilities.”
She nodded. “I will.” She squeezed my hand. “I heard them talking, Mecca.”
Her shaky tone kept me rooted in place. I was torn between wanting to know the information, and not wanting her to shift through the horrific memories to give me the clues I needed.
“They kept saying the name Corbel, or Corvel like they wanted me to hear it. I think that’s who hired them and taking me was the fastest way for them to get your attention.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
Her small hand massaged the side of her head as she stared at the wall straight ahead, but I believed her mind travel beyond it. I wanted to ask her more about what went down but didn’t want to force her to remember the horrific details too soon. Her telling me about Corvel was good enough.
“Do me a favor and get some rest.”
“I will. Thank you, Mecca.”
I clung to her hand for a while longer before I begrudgingly let go and stepped away, not glancing back. This life was okay for me because it was all I knew. I to had had a chance to get away, but the world outside of what I had known was as vicious as the one I had grown up in, therefore I picked the hell I knew.
Corvel? My mind gripped a hold of the information Tash had given and wouldn’t let go. The update had floored me, but I was mindful not to let Tash see my distress. Why would Corvel hire the Haitians to set me up? Did the cartel want me dead, or was someone trying to make it appear that the cartel wanted me dead?
Wasn’t I worth more to the Cardenas Cartel alive, or did they have other ideas for the Black Saints?
27
Arjen
Mecca was going to end up slung across my lap while I paddled her lush ass. It was all I could think about after we cleared a path through the bodies we left on the mountains, hiked back to our vehicles, and continued on our journey towards her location.
We had taken one man alive. The rest were burned and their ashes would forever be spread along the area they had last drew breath. Two hours was the amount of time the men had set us back.
The signal on my phone was lost after the team who had been tasked with protecting Mecca had alerted me, that they were two minutes from her location. My phone had started blowing up with updates after we had returned to the vehicles. It was the men informing me that they had arrived in time to see Mecca face off against the reckless crew who had strung up the young girl they had abducted.
After receiving confirmation of Mecca’s well-being and her location at the hospital with the girl, I went into full investigative mode. I believed the crew that had engaged us on the highway were decoys sent to prevent me from helping Mecca. If my speculations were correct, the same people had set up her incident.
We had spoken briefly on the phone after she had finally returned my call, but I was too upset with her at the time to have a conversation. Now, coming home to find her sleeping in our bed had calmed me. The sight of her had smoothed away all the yelling I intended to do.
After a quick shower, I climbed into bed, smiling at her sprawled out in the dead center of the bed. In my head, it was an invitation to snuggle up behind her.
Her warm body against mine called to my roaming fingers. The alluring sensation that she produced drew me in and my hand slipped around her waist. The woman was like warm, flowing silk. She gave a little moan when I drew her fully into my chest and allowed her body to relax against mine.
“Hey, husband.”
Her soft tone was as warm as her body.
“Hey, wife.”
I snuggled in, nuzzling my nose to the back of her neck. I slid my lips along her skin until I found the perfect spot and remained there, inhaling her refreshing scent. An elongated, “Mmm,” came from deep within, and I breathed it out before taking another deep inhale.
Who knew that I would like coming home to a wife? Especially one this tempting, and lovely and damned hardheaded.
“I’m supposed to be giving you a piece of my mind for the way you risked your life today, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. I’m glad you’re okay.�
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She turned, which made her body rub against mine. The action drew a low groan because it had awakened my dick. Face to face now, her hand rubbed tenderly against my stubbled cheek, luring me deeper into her wonderful world.
“Thank you for having my back. I didn’t see them, but my guys said they spotted at least eight additional men you sneaked into the neighborhood. No one’s ever had my back like this before.”
“Always. My intention was to be there for you myself, but we were stopped on the way. Ambushed in the mountains.”
“What?”
She shot up and snapped on the lamp.
“Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She had the nerve to question me when she had walked herself into the middle of a warzone and hadn’t returned any of my calls until she was good and damn ready.
“Mecca, all I cared about was making sure you were all right.”
“Did you find out who they were? What did they want? Are you hurt?”
She cupped my chin and ran a caring hand along my shoulder before she proceeded to check me out with such a caring touch, it distracted me from what we were talking about.
“I’m not hurt. They said they were from the Black Saints.”
“Shit!” She shook her head, and her face creased into a deep frown of questions and confusion.
“What the fuck is going on? You don’t believe that shit, do you?”
“No. We took one of the men from the ambush alive. I spent an hour watching Khane take him apart. When he finally came to terms with his death, he revealed that when he spoke to the guy on the phone who hired him, the man had a foreign accent.”
“What kind of foreign accent? Who the hell are we dealing with?”
Did she realize that she’d said we? The word held major weight in a relationship, and it appeared she didn’t even realize she had used it, which added more kick to the power of it.
“He couldn’t tell us the origin of the accent, only that he was sure the man wasn’t from the U.S., and it wasn’t a Hispanic accent. Tywin and his crew are scanning the crew’s electronic devices to see if they can figure out who they are associated with, or at least who hired them.”