Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1)

by Allyn Lesley

  A black book sat on a tray table beside her father’s ratty chair. Avi moved across the small space and reached out for the title-less book. Movie tickets, subway maps, play bills, and scraps of other dated mementos filled the pages, with her mother’s handwriting marking each event. Polaroids of a young Harry smiling and laughing alongside a younger and happier Ellie were taped to other pages. There were even short strips of negatives. Avi held them up to the light and covered her trembling lips as she saw her parents in costumes, Ellie in the kitchen, and Harry taking a nap in his La-Z-Boy.

  They had a whole life together...a life that had been hidden from Avi.

  Why? That single word played on repeat in her head until a loud and hollow banging snatched her attention away from the sea of questions drowning her. Following the noise through the kitchen and to a door that was slightly ajar, she listened for the sound again before passing through the doorway and down a dark staircase.

  Noah, Gavin, and Ro were hunkered down over a large metal box, apparently too engrossed in their discovery to take notice of Avi’s quiet intrusion.

  “Let me take it. I think I can crack it open,” Gavin said.

  “We’ve tried everything except blowtorching this bitch,” Ro said, standing up.

  “We’ll take it back to my house.” Noah sighed.

  She emerged from the shadowy staircase. “Try nine, one, six, eight.”

  Whatever was inside that safe might hold answers Avi wasn’t sure she wanted, but was certain she needed.

  “Try nine, one, six, eight,” she repeated.

  The men’s attention whipped around at her voice.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” Several clicks of the turning combination lock’s face were heard over Noah’s blustering.

  She held her breath while a hand went to her throat. Her mother’s birthday had to be the key to opening that safe. Guilt weighed her legs down, and she sat heavily on the steps.

  “Fuck me,” Ro said.

  “She was right,” Gavin added.

  Noah stooped down. When he stood again, he held an envelope in his hand. “Who’s E. Linton?”

  An hour later, Ido’s driver pulled into a garage miles from Harry’s home. Stepping out of the car, Ido marveled at the brightly colored house with its wrap-around porch and slate roof. A neighbor walking a dog shouted a greeting as Ido walked up the brick steps. Facing him, Ido sneered. The man scooted down the sidewalk while his pug yapped at Ido’s back.

  The people who lived behind the oak door stayed to themselves, and their neighbors gave the silent family the quiet they seemed to crave. For the last two years, a bachelor and his sisters had lived here—that was as much as the neighbors knew.

  Darius Sadiki, Ido’s second-in-command, met him at the door. Ido followed behind, walking into the large interior then down a low-lit stairwell. Darius stuck his hand up, twisting the small knob on the lamp scone. Ido took a deep breath, stepping into the heart of his distribution center. Once you were inside, time slipped—no windows were present inside the all-white room, while slender guards casually walked the aisle, with the their fingers close to the triggers of their weapons.

  “This is good.”

  The large room stretched more than half the length of the old home.

  “We’re doing well,” Darius said. “Sales are up.”

  Ido smiled. When he had decided to come to New York City two years ago, the plan was to co-opt the heroin market from unsuspecting dealers.

  “We want to keep it that way,” Ido said, returning to the present. “Increase the fentanyl in this batch.”

  “Remember what happened when we did that?”

  Ido grimaced. He had infiltrated an elite clientele who wouldn’t have trusted Higher. So he packaged his own drugs as if they were one of the more well-known brands. Everything had been going well until a celebrity chef died. That one death had brought both good and bad exposure. Harry Manning became his shadow, while clients sought out Ido’s counterfeit-packaged drug.

  “Up the dosage.” That would have long-time users believing they were having their first hit again.

  “Okay.”

  They left the room, clicking the door closed.

  “After next week, Higher is going public. Set up a few meetings.” No more masking his superb quality under those that could never challenge him.

  “Should I include Adams in this meeting?” Darius asked.

  “He won’t be a problem by that time. Is he still being followed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” Ido said.

  “One last thing.”

  Ido turned back.

  “Adams’s people are all over that detective’s house. We can’t get in,” Darius said.

  “We’ll take care of Adams and his men, then we’ll get rid of that house.”

  “As-salāmu`alayka,” Darius said. He limped over to a nearby seat.

  “Salamun Alaikum,” Ido said.

  Ido faced the opposite direction, taking a few steps toward the door. A whimper of pain halted his exit.

  Over his shoulder, he said, “After next week, we’ll go home. Get away from New York’s cold weather.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ido’s phone beeped on his way out. His young lover had no idea about Ido’s bigger plans, and he planned to keep it that way for just a little longer. He answered the call.

  “Are you gonna come over?” The question was followed by a throaty laugh Ido was all too familiar with.

  “On my way.”

  Just a few more days then he would give his lover an eternal send off.

  “This is heavy as hell.” Ro grunted his way down the hall to Noah’s office.

  Once they rested the safe on the floor, Gavin and Ro sat in the chairs in front of the desk while Cass hovered off to the side away from the group.

  Noah sat heavily in his desk chair. “Let’s make this quick.” The darkness around him was crashing on top of his head. He was out of sorts, missing pieces of information, and that was shit Noah couldn’t allow to happen.

  “I’ve tweaked security systems at all of our homes—”

  “I don’t give a fuck about security systems, Gavin. What the hell do we know about Ido? That’s what I need to know. If you don’t have that answer, do me and yourself a favor and don’t say shit.” He was on a warpath, and anyone in his way could be a casualty tonight.

  Gavin eased back in his chair, muttering, “I need a couple more days.”

  “A couple days? For what? This asshole knows our businesses, but we don’t know anything about him,” Noah bellowed. It was times like this he was glad his office was soundproof.

  Gavin grimaced then cracked his knuckles. “He’s hard to find, Noe.”

  Noah hissed then swung his gaze to Ro. “What are the streets saying?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s impossible,” Cass spat out, moving toward the other men.

  “I’m telling you, no one we know knows shit. He may have his own people, or he’s fucking Houdini,” Ro was quick to say.

  Silence descended on the room.

  “If you can’t buy information, you get shit by any means necessary,” Noah snarled. Money made men tell you what you wanted to hear. Broken bones and well-placed corpses around the city ripped open sealed lips. They always garnered more reliable results; pain was a great motivator.

  “Noah.”

  He ignored Cass’s warning tone.

  Ro leaned forward. “You sure about this?”

  Noah cocked his head to the side, his answer clear. A sly grin worked its way onto Ro’s lips.

  “I want a guard for Avi.” Even though Avi had known the combination to Harry’s safe and her presence in his life was confusing, Noah didn’t plan on going back on what he had told her in his kitchen a few feet from where he was now. At Cass’s raised eyebrow, Noah said, “There’ll be no end date to those duties either.”

  “Well...” Ro grinned.

  Gavin g
ave him a thumbs-up. “Congrats, Noah.”

  “Fuck off.” He had no time for their teasing. “If that’s all...” He made to stand, ready to find out who Avi was.

  “Not really. Seems right after Sofie’s birthday, Wheeler claimed he had some information to sell.”

  Gavin’s words cut through the air.

  “Shit,” Ro said, sharing everyone’s thoughts.

  Noah sat back down, shoulders rigid.

  “I can—”

  Noah’s fist rattled his desk and silenced Gavin.

  Cass, the voice of reason, spoke in a calming tone, “Now hold on. Let’s at least find out what happened.”

  Noah leaned back. “What does the pussy know?”

  “Nothing,” Gavin said. “He trusts me. Let me take care of him.”

  Noah grunted. His intense dislike for the man just elevated. If Poindexter went to the cops...“What did he try to sell, other than his fucking Sour D?”

  “All our Harlem connect shared was that Wheeler came into Lester’s Tavern, got drunk, and started blabbing. Mentioned the fight you both had and how he was going to get you. Before Wheeler drew any more attention to himself, he was put in a cab, then I got a call,” Gavin said.

  “That weasel.” Between Harry’s murder, Ido showing up at his office, and now this loose cannon on their hands, Noah couldn’t see straight. “Get your guy down to Envy. I want to have a talk with him.” This time, he didn’t plan on using his fist.

  “We’ll need a replacement then,” Cass suggested.

  Noah’s nostrils flared and his cheeks flamed. He’d take pleasure in the fucker’s demise—maybe something slow, like keeping him shackled and starving, or fast, like ripping his tongue out of his lying mouth.

  “Noah,” Cass yelled, pulling him from his deadly trance. “We’ll need a replacement. Numbers are low.”

  “How low?” he growled out, mad with himself that things were spiraling out of control and going haywire, because he wasn’t being Accipiere’s leader.

  “Low, Noah.” Ro stretched the words, dragging Noah’s attention to his friend.

  “Even our artillery side is down,” Cass said.

  Ro held Noah’s gaze; his silence corroborated Cass’s statement about the part of Accipiere Ro oversaw. He dipped his head, sinking lower in his seat. Noah grunted his understanding as more of a response. No one but him was at fault. He was the head and was accountable for the shitty state of affairs at the company. Noah closed out the world.

  “Our construction and entertainment businesses aren’t bringing in what we’re used to either. The economy is just shit all around. But people will pay to escape their reality, and they should come to us for that.”

  Though his eyes were closed, Noah’s brain whirled. Everything was fucked. There’d always been competitors, and he relished the challenge, because they drove him to ensure his businesses remained superior. But never had anyone challenged him the way Ido had done in his office a few days ago.

  “Give my best to Avianna for me, will you?” Then Ido had laughed, which still grated on Noah’s nerves. “I sincerely hope she’s not having nightmares over the tragic death of that cop from yesterday.”

  Noah needed to get his head out of the clouds, and get back to his business. Harry was dead; no amount of wallowing was going to bring his friend back, but he could get his killer. Avi knew things he didn’t, and that would all change as soon as Noah cracked open the file on her. No matter what was going on, losing money was never an option. For the last ten years, he and his friends had been taking over New York City—as the Latin roots of Accipiere meant—and they weren’t about to stop.

  Noah stood. “Replace Poindexter.” He looked at Gavin. “Bronx has always expressed an interest. Set them uptown in Swerve for a three-month trial. Tell them I’m being generous by offering a sixty-forty split.” That was more than fair. He was taking all the risks, and there’d be hell to pay if they fucked with his money in his own nightclub. He pointed an unwavering finger at Gavin. “After that, spend every fucking minute finding something on Ido.”

  Ro and Gavin left the office. It was time he did what should’ve already been done.

  Noah walked over to the wall near his desk and tapped the edge of the painting to reveal a keypad. When he fitted his right hand into the pewter-colored grooves, the safe opened. “About our people at Harry’s...”

  “Yeah?”

  “If a damn pigeon comes near his mailbox, I want to know,” Noah said over his shoulder.

  “Got it, boss.”

  When Noah faced Cass, he held a single folder. The name Avianna Linton was hand-written on the tab. The file was thin, but Noah knew whatever was inside could be as dense as a forest with no way out.

  With a hand on the door knob, Cass said, “You and Avi will be just fine.” Then he left Noah to his thoughts.

  It was maybe a half-hour later when Noah was finished.

  “Fuck.” He dragged a hand over his tired eyes. He had expected to find information about boyfriends, which he had. Maybe there’d be some embarrassing pictures from her childhood, which there were. And the usual: her social security number, past residences, debt history, and schools she had attended.

  He was not expecting what he had learned.

  So many things connected the two of them. First Harry, and now Ellie Linton. The coincidences fucked with his mind. For a split second, he wondered if she was a mole sent to destroy him. But as quickly as the thought entered his head, he shook it away.

  He stood, stretched his aching muscles, and then walked over to Harry’s safe. Anxiety coursed through him as he turned the dial, using the numbers Avi had uttered earlier. When it opened, he was still just as shocked as he had been in the basement.

  E. Linton. Noah’s eyes landed on the name, remembering a time when Harry had been candid with him about Ellie Linton. He put Avi’s mother’s letters to Harry on the floor. Then his fingers grazed the edge of the shiny item. It was his Afghanistan Service Medal that he’d given to Harry for safekeeping. When Noah reached back inside the safe, he pulled out his thick medical file. Flipping through, he saw his aptitude test results, a picture of his platoon from basic training at Fort Hood that somehow got into his file—things from a time in his life when he thought change was a possibility.

  Something fluttered to the floor. Noah bent, retrieving the waxy envelope with the purple calla lily that gleamed under the light. He shoved everything back into the safe and slammed it shut. Leaving his office, he found Avi just where instinct told him she’d be. Curled up on her side in the bedroom he told her was hers for the duration of her stay.

  Even though she lay still, he knew she was awake. He lifted her up, sheet and all, and carried her to his bedroom. Shedding his clothing, he pulled her back into his broad chest and held onto her while she sobbed.

  Harry used to have a saying: never sleep with someone whose troubles are worse than your own. This wouldn’t be the first time Noah didn’t take his friend’s advice.

  He fell asleep.

  “How’s the food?” Noah asked.

  Avi’s attention lifted from her plate to his face, but then she quickly dropped it back down. “Fine,” she mumbled.

  In many ways, Avi was like her father: bullish with a single-minded focus. Both had an uncanny ability to let only those they wanted into their heads. He’d given her time to process, but now he needed answers. He wasn’t a man who waited. And for her, he’d waited longer than ever—five days.

  Noah’s fork clanged onto his plate. “Are you ready to talk?”

  Avi pushed away her plate and wiped the corners of her mouth. When she made to leave the table, her answer was unmistakable.

  “Did I ever tell you about the time I opened up your father’s scrapbook?”

  Avi ran her hand through her hair, slumping back into her seat. She didn’t look at him, but Noah knew she was listening.

  “It was a random day. Maybe a Saturday. I was bored, and your old man was at w
ork. His antique TV was on the fritz again, and the book under the coffee table caught my attention. Plus, I was a nosey bastard. First thing my eyes landed on when I cracked it open was Harry cheesing.” He laughed.

  Avi’s upper body leaned forward, though she never looked his way.

  “I’d probably been in his life, oh, I’d say about a month or so, and I’d never seen that man laugh like how he was in those pictures. I had to ask myself, ‘Who the hell is this?’ Then I saw her. She was gorgeous. Big, curly hair. And in all of the pictures, Harry’s eyes followed her as if the sun and moon rose and set because of her.” He remembered how Harry had come home earlier than expected, finding Noah hunkered over his book filled with memories.

  When Avi remained silent, he continued, “Anyway, your pops came home, caught me red-handed. I thought he was going to tear me a new one. He looked so angry. But then he just kinda gathered himself and told me to hand him the scrapbook. She labeled everything they did. Dates. Locations. I mean everything. The names Ellie Linton and Harry Manning were all over that book. In some places, it was just EL and HM.” He laughed. “Cute. Made me jealous, even though I didn’t know shit about what was obviously love. So I asked about her.”

  Avi raised her head. He never saw the resemblance, but now it was clear as day. She had her father’s eye color, but her mother’s deep-set eyes. And when Avi really laughed, and let herself be in the moment, her posture was reminiscent of many of the pictures he’d seen of when Harry was around Ellie: head thrown back, shoulders quaking, with hands holding her sides.

  “Wha-what’d he say about her?” Her wobbly voice broke his concentration.

  Her fingers raked through her hair, and now strands lay all over her head. She refused to look his way, flickering her gaze all over the dining room.

  “He told me Ellie Linton was the love of his life.”

  Her gasp was audible. A tear trickled down her cheek. He almost felt guilty, but he knew the conversation needed to happen whether she was ready for it or not.

  “So now I’m asking you...besides being your mother, who is E. Linton to you?”