Irrevocable (Evan Arden #5)

by Shay Savage

  Looking nervously to his comrades, he speaks in a tone too low for me to hear. A moment later, he walks up to me. As he approaches, I recall his name from Jonathan’s list of Auburn Grisham’s local ruffians. Omarie Keevers—Junko’s brother.

  “What are you doing here, Arden?”

  “Giving a nice old lady a ride,” I say with a smile. “She’s a little troubled you know. I understand her grandson is in the hospital.”

  Omarie glares and starts to reach behind his back again.

  “Not a good idea.” I glance in the direction of the police car.

  He heeds my warning without asking for more explanation. At least he has some brains. He plants his feet firmly and stands up taller.

  “You goin’ on your way then?” He intends for the words to be a command, but they come out a question anyway.

  “Not sure yet.” I take another puff off the cigarette. “It’s such a nice neighborhood. Maybe I’ll go apartment shopping.”

  “You’re south of Forty-seventh,” Omarie says, trying to sound bold. “Out of your territory.”

  “Must be a reason for that.” I toss my cigarette at his feet and push off the car. “It seems something that belongs to me has been misplaced. I think it might be misplaced around here somewhere.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” His answer is far too quick. He doesn’t ask what because he already knows the answer. He glances over his shoulder at the group and then looks back to me. “You need to get movin’ before my boys get aggravated. It’s too early for bloodshed.”

  “I’m going to get moving because I’m out of cigarettes, and I’m pretty sure they don’t have my brand here. You let Junko know I’m looking for my merchandise.”

  Omarie takes a few steps back as I walk around the car and get in. I rev the engine before pulling out of the parking lot.

  “Nice bumper sticker!” I’m not sure who yells it, but they’re all laughing.

  That thing has got to go.

  Back at Rinaldo’s office, I dig up everything I can find on Omarie Keevers. He hasn’t been a big player down south, at least not until Marcello’s demise. He must be moving up in the world quickly to have approached me out in the open, showing off for his homies, no doubt.

  He knows where my guns are.

  I grab a USB drive out of my bag and plug it into the side of Rinaldo’s laptop. As I start to transfer a few things, the computer throws up an error telling me the USB drive is full, and I check to see what’s still on it.

  It’s all the information I had gathered about the tournament players. I open a couple of files to see if there’s anything I still need before deleting them, and a thumbnail of a photograph catches my eye.

  It’s a picture of Landon Stark. This isn’t surprising, considering Sebastian Stark was my primary competition, but it’s not what piques my interest. There’s a man behind him. He’s younger, blond, and the way he tilts his head to the side makes me realize he is the same person from Jonathan’s security footage. Joshua Taylor—Joseph Frank’s arms dealer. He’s the guy who met with Beni, and he’s the guy who picked up the gun shipment from the southern gangs.

  Joshua Taylor.

  Justin Taylor’s relative?

  There’s no way it can be a coincidence. It doesn’t take long to figure out that the two men had the same father, and that Joshua relocated from Seattle to Chicago about two months after I killed Justin. The address he was at then is no longer valid, but I can’t find any evidence of him leaving town, either.

  I jot down a couple of addresses listed under J. Taylors to check out later. As I’m finishing up, the door opens.

  It’s Lele.

  She’s all bundled up in a fur coat and hat, but she’s not wearing any makeup. Her eyes are a little red and her typically perfectly manicured nails are chipped at the thumbs.

  “Evan, have you seen Naldo?”

  Yeah, he’s at the apartment he set up for his mistress. He’s also skimming from his own business to set up a nest egg for her.

  “Not since yesterday.” I manage to say the words with a completely straight face. “We had a meeting in the morning, but I don’t know where he went from there.”

  She purses her lips together and wrinkles her brow as she stares down at her hands.

  “Lele, what’s wrong?”

  “He didn’t come home last night,” she says quietly. “He wasn’t home the night before either, but he left me a message that he was working late. I haven’t heard from him since, and he’s not answering his phone.”

  All thoughts of misappropriated funds leave my head as I reach over and take her hand.

  “He said his phone has been acting up,” I tell her. It’s at least partially true—he did say it. He was lying to me at the time, but the words did come from his mouth. “There’s a lot going on right now. I know you don’t want the details, but I have barely been home myself.”

  She squeezes my fingers and nods.

  “I shouldn’t worry,” she says, “but he always comes home at least to change his clothes or get some real food in his belly. This is so unlike him.”

  “He’s fine,” I tell her. I lean in and kiss her cheek, hoping I can reassure her even when I don’t believe a word I’m saying. “He’s just busy. I’m sure things will calm down soon.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” She tries to smile, but the corners of her eyes are tight. “I was trying to get hold of my brother, but he’s not answering either. I was hoping Naldo had heard from him.”

  “He didn’t mention it.” I’ve never met Lele’s brother, and I’m not even sure of his name.

  Lele nods slowly, gives my hand a final squeeze, and leaves the office.

  I watch as she walks slowly out to her car. After she sits down in the driver’s seat, she pulls a tissue from her purse and dabs at her eyes.

  I curl my fingers into the palm of my hand hard enough for the nails to dig into my skin. Sweat forms at my temples, and my vision blurs a little.

  I’ve had enough.

  As a plan begins to form in my head, I know the first thing I really need is a good night’s sleep. I won’t be able to focus and get everything right if I’m not well rested. I immediately start looking for Alina.

  It’s early in the evening, and there aren’t too many girls out on the street yet. Those that are milling around are way too young. I wave a couple of them on as I park along the street and wait for Alina to show up. I’m not going to drive around in circles and possibly miss her.

  I end up waiting about thirty minutes before I see her walking up the sidewalk. Her long legs are accentuated by the hooker-heels she wears, and her hair is bundled up on top of her head to keep the wind from blowing it too much. She’s dressed all in blue, and I feel my heart quicken at the thought of how the bright clothing will bring out her eyes.

  I lick my lips as she gets closer, watching her in the passenger-side mirror. I see her tilt her head up as she recognizes the car. She smiles as she focuses on the back bumper, and I roll the window down as she stops next to the car.

  “Need a lift?” I say with a smile.

  She presses her lips together and narrows her eyes at me.

  “What’s with the one-liners?”

  “I thought I was being polite.” I reach over and open the door, staring at her legs as she climbs into the low seat. Without thinking, I begin to speak. “It’s early. Maybe I should take you out for dinner or something first.”

  Alina eyes me again, probably trying to decide if I’m serious or not. I’m not completely sure myself, but my stomach growls a bit at the thought.

  “How do you feel about sushi?”

  “I like sushi,” she says.

  “I know a really good place off Michigan Avenue.”

  “That sounds good.” There’s hesitation in her voice, but I choose to ignore it. I know my behavior is atypical, but that’s typical for me.

  I park the car at the valet station and get a table for two inside
the restaurant.

  “Is everything all right?” Alina asks once the server has left with our order.

  “Everything is fine,” I reply automatically. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you’re early, for starters.” Alina places her napkin neatly in her lap before meeting my eyes. “You’ve picked me up very late at night the other times. The whole dinner thing is unusual.”

  She’s observant; I have to give her that.

  “Those things go together,” I tell her. “It is the dinner hour.”

  She concedes the point and sips at some water. I was right about her clothes bringing out her eyes. They practically sparkle over the glass. She has long lashes, and they frame her eyes beautifully.

  “Try one.” I take the sushi roll with my chopsticks, dip it in the soy sauce, and hold it up to her.

  Alina keeps her eyes on me as she leans in and opens her mouth so I can slide the roll inside. My throat constricts as she wraps her lips around the whole thing, and my pants are suddenly a little too tight for my cock.

  I watch her devour the roll and then run her tongue over her lips, catching a little soy sauce that escaped. I can practically feel the moisture from her tongue on my dick, and I want dinner over though we haven’t even finished half the sushi rolls. I need to take a drink of my water to clear my throat.

  “You about full?” I ask, my voice still raspy.

  “I’d like to be,” she responds softly.

  Jesus.

  It could be an expletive; it could be a prayer. I’m not sure which.

  “I’ll get the check.”

  There’s a line of people waiting for the valet. The club next door hosts a lot of fancy, exclusive parties, and one of them must have just let out. There are so many people milling about the valet station, I can’t even get out of the restaurant.

  Glancing around, I see a small alcove over to the side of the hostess station and make my way toward it, holding Alina by the hand. The light doesn’t quite reach the area, which appears to be storage for a few jackets, likely for the staff.

  I pull Alina into the shadows with me and stare into her bright blue eyes. I wet my lips as I bring my hand up to her cheek and use my arm to bring our bodies closer together. We’ve been close before, even mostly naked, but this is different. I’m aware of every part of her that touches me. I can feel the warmth and softness of her skin beneath her clothing.

  I stroke her lower lip with my thumb and then lean in. Our mouths touch softly and briefly, and I can feel her breath on my lips.

  Kissing her again, I take longer to explore her lips this time. She runs her fingers up my arm and tightens them around my shoulder as she presses her body against mine. I can feel her breasts as they smash against my chest, and I grip her tighter.

  I slide my tongue between her lips, and she opens her mouth and turns her head to give me access. I take it, pressing my lips firmly against hers and moving together. I keep the rhythm slow, and all I can think about is fucking her at the same pace.

  My hand is still on her face, and she turns toward it. With her eyes still on mine, she opens her mouth slightly and sucks at my thumb. I feel her teeth bite down lightly on the pad, and it sends a shiver from my hand straight to my cock.

  “I need to get you back to my apartment.”

  “Yes, you do.” She stands on her toes and pulls my ear close to her mouth. “I want to feel your cock in me tonight.”

  If she had placed her hand on my dick first, I would have come in her hand. I can’t even form words. All I can do is nod dumbly, grab her hand, and force my way through the crowd waiting for their cars.

  I glance down the sidewalk as I approach the valet. Next door, there’s a big sign proclaiming some charity event going on tonight, and everyone around is wearing their finest. Couples mingle and chat, laugh at each other’s jokes, and all wait to retrieve a car from the same group of valets. As the voices rise into the air in a stream of white noise, I hear Rinaldo’s voice above the rest.

  “I’m not going to argue with you about it. You’re troubled, so I’m staying with you tonight.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Naldo,” Felisa responds. “I know Lele has to be wondering.”

  “She’s fine.” Rinaldo waves his hand dismissively, then takes Felisa by the arm and leads her to his waiting car. I grab Alina and pull her to the other side of the doorway to keep from being seen.

  “Evan? What is it?”

  “Shh.” I place a finger over her mouth. “Just wait a minute.”

  “I still worry about it, Naldo.”

  “Lele knows her place,” he says. “She isn’t going to make trouble.”

  “I realize that, but she did bring me here from New York, and I…” The rest of the sentence is cut off as the car door closes, and they drive away.

  If I hadn’t already been sure of what needs to be done, I am now. Every muscle in my body is tight as I stare at the back of Rinaldo’s car as it heads down the street in the direction of Felisa’s apartment.

  “Evan? You’re hurting me.” Alina’s voice is soft but enough for me to notice I have quite a grip on her forearm. I release her and stomp up to the valet to demand my car.

  Alina is silent as I speed down the street, whipping past other cars as drivers shout at me. I’m reminded of one of those daytime talk shows where they go on about road rage and how you never know if the guy in the next car is carrying a gun.

  Yeah, I am. I’ll use it, too.

  The faces of various people I don’t trust flash in front of my eyes as I park the Camaro and head for the elevator. Beni, Becca, Joshua Taylor, Paulie—everyone. I don’t trust any of them, but they aren’t my biggest concern right now.

  Someone’s trying to get in the middle of my family.

  All right, they aren’t really my family, but I don’t fucking care. No one messes with them. No one.

  I barely remember that Alina is still with me until I turn around and she’s in the apartment. She standing near the door and looking at little like a beaten puppy—refusing to make a squeak for fear of being noticed.

  I take a long breath and walk into the bedroom. I can’t imagine I’m going to sleep well at this point, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need it. I’ll need all my wits about me tomorrow because tomorrow I will put an end to this. I can’t stand it another day. I’d do it tonight, but Rinaldo would be there. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him know.

  I begin to formulate a plan as Alina quietly crawls into bed with me. She doesn’t speak and waits until I put an arm around her before reaching around to cradle my head. The position calms me slightly—or maybe it’s the lavender scent.

  I relax, emotional and physical exhaustion collide to overcome the rapid thoughts in my head, and I sleep.

  As soon as I awake, I know I’ve overslept. The sun is coming in through the northern window, and Alina is already up. I can hear her in the kitchen.

  Shoving myself out of bed, I grab for the nearest clothes and head to the bathroom. After a three-minute shower, I’m toweling off and dressing. Alina’s in the kitchen, and she smiles as I enter.

  “I gotta run,” I tell her. I shove money into her hands. “There’s extra in there for a cab. They can hail one for you down in the lobby.”

  “Okay.” She looks from the cash in her hands back to me. “Do you want something to eat before you go?”

  I glance at the clock. It will take hours to get everything set in motion, and I don’t have a minute to spare.

  “No time.” I see a plate of biscuits on the counter, and grab it. “This will hold me over.”

  “All right,” Alina says quietly. She walks into the bedroom and gathers her things. I type out a quick text message to Jonathan, telling him to meet me at Rinaldo’s office. I only hope he doesn’t ask too many questions.

  “I’ll see you another time.” Alina closes the door before I respond.

  From the front closet, I grab my duffel and empty almost everything out
of it. I grab a few things I will need, but I’ll have to shop for the rest after I meet with Jonathan for a little lesson on hacking smartphones.

  I grab the biscuit I had left on the counter and bite into it, surprised by how delicious it is. I only make those that come in a can, but these must be homemade. I look over to the kitchen table, and see that Alina had laid out quite a breakfast spread. There are eggs, bacon, gravy for the biscuits, and orange juice.

  “Motherfucker.” I should have set a damn alarm so I didn’t have to send her away so quickly, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. I need time to get everything into place, and I want to take care of it quickly. I still need assistance from Jonathan, but I’ll have to keep him from knowing why. There can’t be any trace this time.

  I can’t stand another day of Felisa in Rinaldo’s life.

  Chapter 8—Stress Relief

  With a new battery in my rusted, nondescript Volvo, I head back south. I hadn’t planned to move so quickly, but my plans have officially changed. My head is full of possible betrayals from a dead former bookkeeper and the obvious connection between him and the only living major player from the Seattle mob. Somehow, they’re using the southern gangs to dig into our gun business, and they all need to know they can’t get away with taking things that belong to us.

  There’s also another person who needs to understand she can’t get away with stealing from my family. I need to take care of that first so I can focus on what’s important.

  Omarie is easy enough to locate and easier still to follow. When he seems to have had his fill of handing out “samples” to the neighborhood kids, he jumps into a dented Lincoln and heads west out of town. I follow at a safe distance, but he’s far too interested in bouncing around to the radio than in the car behind him.

  The southern gangs have always perplexed me. They deal with similar illegal business ventures as the organized groups, but they rarely end up ahead. They spend too much time fighting within their own outfits and using their own products to come close to financial security. They maintain they’re in this for the money, but they still live in crappy apartments and drive around in cars that should have been junked years ago.