Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  Kane dropped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re talking some harsh shit, brother. Can’t you get out? I mean, don’t you want to get out?”

  A dull laugh escaped his mouth. “You know, no one’s ever asked me what I want before.”

  Kane shrugged. “People see what makes sense to them. They see a big guy like you, a killer, they don’t understand how someone could trap you. You’re the monster because you look like one.” Gesturing to himself, Kane swept his hands down his body. “I get it. I also get what it’s like to feel trapped by a certain kind of life. It’s why we both come here and do this, am I right?”

  He nodded sharply.

  “Do you think you can stay away from her?”

  “Truth?” He exhaled slowly. “No. I can’t.”

  Kane spoke over the noise as he started hammering his two-by-four again. “Then you need to figure out how to keep your two worlds apart. Because you’re right. She’ll be your weak spot. The first person who finds it will destroy her. And you.”

  ***

  Kane’s words still rattled around in Brick’s head as he hit the street with Tre hours later.

  He stole a peek at his trainee. Tre wore a bright red leather jacket, and it looked even shinier next to his dark skin. Most guys in this line of work dressed in black. They’d blend into the night, so their prey would never see them coming.

  Tre was a different breed of predator. He wanted them to see him coming. He fed on the fear.

  He held back a shudder as he imagined what someone like Tre would do with the knowledge of Olivia. He’d rape her, no doubt. Even worse, he’d hurt her as much as possible. He wouldn’t kill her, though, at least not right away. Tre would find a quick death too merciful. He’d squeeze out as much pain as possible…to show Brick he could, but also because he’d fucking enjoy it.

  Tre could never, ever know Olivia existed.

  Unaware of his scrutiny, the kid scoped out Bennie’s duplex. Their mark lived on the right side of the shotgun house.

  As far as he knew, the other side sat empty. A weak light cast shadows against the thin curtains on Bennie’s half of the house. The vague shapes of several men moved behind it, including the stocky frame of their Mexican target.

  “How many of ’em do you think we can take?”

  “Think smart, Tre. There’s no need to walk into a free-for-all. We wait. We watch. It might mean we end up coming back tomorrow. It could be an ambush. When you work for Sucre, you’re always going to have some dumb assholes plotting to get the better of you. Being stronger than them’s not good enough. You’ve got to be smarter too.”

  Tre kicked a rock on the crumbling concrete at the curb. “So, he gets away with not paying because he invited his friends over? What kind of pussy are you?”

  He growled and slapped the smaller man across the face. “You are reaching the end of my fucking patience.”

  The kid backed down, but the hate in his glare was unmistakable. “All I mean is, what kind of message are we sending by giving him a pass?”

  “We’re not giving him a pass. Sometimes you have to be a spider instead of a grizzly bear. One kills with cunning and the other, brute force. The outcome is the same. You have to think about which approach will serve you better.”

  Tre nodded, but it was obvious he only wanted to be the grizzly.

  They didn’t have to wait long. About thirty minutes later, half a dozen men filed out the door and down the steps on the porch. They piled into an old blue Delta 88. Bennie was among them.

  Brick and Tre followed at a discreet distance as they drove to a dive bar down the street.

  Bennie made a mistake in choosing his destination. Brick knew the guy who owned the place, and after a quick phone call, he and Tre slipped in the back door.

  “So why is it okay to go after Bennie now when it wasn’t before? He still has his crew with him.” Tre’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

  How many times had he learned lessons the hard way? Tre had no idea how lucky he was to have someone show him the ropes. “The difference is now we can see what we’re dealing with. In the apartment, there were too many unknowns. Now we know how many men he’s got with him. We can see where they are, and the only place they’ll be watching for us is the front door.”

  Proving his point, one of Bennie’s guys headed their way, wandering alone to the bathroom. Even in such a small space, the guy had to weave through two dozen people to make his way back.

  Brick grabbed him from behind and covered his mouth before he could make a sound. “You looking for trouble from me?” He used his stone-cold-killer voice.

  The thin man shook his head emphatically.

  “Hand my associate your phone and I’ll let you wait this out in the storage room. Do something stupid, and I’ll break something you’re attached to.”

  The man’s hands shook as he handed his phone to Tre.

  “Pat him down for a weapon.”

  Tre did as Brick commanded and came up with a switchblade the size of his hand. Grinning, Tre shoved the knife into the pocket of his jacket. “You carrying anything else?” he sneered.

  Again, the man shook his head, more frantically than ever.

  He let the guy go. “In the closet. This shit goes south, I’ll kill you first.”

  “Won’t his friends come looking for him?” Tre lived to challenge him.

  Rolling his eyes, he shrugged. “Maybe. Or they might think he bailed. If anyone gets curious, they’ll come alone, and they’ll end up in the closet too.”

  Sure enough, it happened twice more, which left Bennie with only two buddies next to him at the bar. Good enough odds for Brick to make his move. Judging by the expression on Bennie’s face, he’d already reached the same conclusion on his own.

  One of the guys with him flat out ran away as he stepped into the open. Bennie’s other friend stood his ground, trying to seem tough. He failed.

  Brick stared down the man with a diamond earring and fat dreds standing next to his quarry. “Is this the ditch you wanna die in?”

  Blinking rapidly, the guy didn’t even glance at Bennie before hightailing it out the front door.

  Bennie dropped to his knees. Sweat dotted the skin above his quivering lip. “I was about to come see you, Brick, I swear.”

  “Don’t talk to me, Bennie. Talk to Tre.”

  As Bennie turned to plead his case, Tre didn’t wait for any words. He lifted his knee and kicked him square in the face. Then, when Bennie tried to roll up into a ball, Tre kicked him over and over and over again. “You think you can run from me, motherfucker?” Kick. “You think you can hide behind your friends?” Kick. “You spread the message Tre Lowry don’t play.”

  Bennie whimpered at the brutal kick Tre delivered next but then fell silent and still. So did everyone else in the bar. They waited and watched to see what Tre would do next. So did Brick.

  Tre was a loose cannon, as likely to kill Bennie as ask about the money he owed. At some point, though, the guy had to show what he was made of. Brick couldn’t keep reminding him what was important.

  With his shiny red leather coat, Tre was the loudest thing in the dark, dank room—the star of the show—and he wasn’t finished with his performance. With the showmanship of a circus ringmaster, he unbuckled his pants and whipped out his dick.

  Then pissed all over poor Bennie.

  The guy lay there, soaked in blood and urine. Brick couldn’t tell if the poor bastard was dead or alive.

  Tre didn’t seem to care. He swung around to face the crowd, cock still in hand. “Anybody else want a piece of this?”

  Nobody said a word.

  Stuffing his junk back into his pants, Tre puffed up like a proud peacock. “I didn’t think so.” He pulled out the switchblade he’d pocketed earlier and sliced off Bennie’s index finger. He shoved it in his jacket pocket before strutting out the front door.

  The last thing Brick wanted to do was stick his hands in Tre’s piss.

  No. The
last thing he wanted to do was to face Sucre not knowing whether Bennie was dead or alive.

  He reached down and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. Then he dug out Bennie’s wallet from his damp jacket, removed the forty dollars nestled inside, and dropped the fake leather on the dead man’s chest.

  Shit. His thoughts about Olivia had consumed him so much tonight, he’d forgotten his backpack. “I’m going to need a tarp.”

  The bartender cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh, got one in the bed of my truck.”

  “Get it. When I’m gone, you can let the guys locked in your storage room out. I’ve got no beef with them, but I don’t think they’ll take this very well.”

  It took him ten minutes to roll Bennie in the heavy plastic and toss his body in the back of his pickup. He drove straight to El Cabron, where Tre strutted around the bar like king of the fucking world.

  “Took you long enough, man. Didn’t think you wanted me to go see Sucre without you, but you know how the man hates to be kept waiting.” Tre chuckled low and rubbed his tongue across his bottom lip.

  Dumb fuck had no idea what he was in for.

  He followed the kid silently to Sucre’s throne, took his traditional seat, and waited for Tre to dig himself in deeper.

  Tonight, Sucre wore a deep amber suit. He brushed at his lapel as Tre stood in front of him, practically bouncing on his feet. “I take it you had a successful evening, Tre?”

  “Fucking A. Bennie thought he could get the drop on me. Set up a fucking ambush at his place, but I didn’t fall for it. Nope. Tracked him and his hombres to some dive bar. Picked his guys off one by one, and shazam.” He clapped his hands together. “Easy pickings.”

  Sucre shot him a bored look. “And my money?”

  Tre swallowed, probably now beginning to realize the depth of his mistake.

  “You did ask about my money. Right?”

  “Obviously he didn’t have it, boss, so he tried to get the jump on me.”

  Sucre narrowed his eyes. “So, he’ll have it tomorrow? What did he say? Exactly.”

  Tre blinked quickly, his brain likely making all those connections he should have considered an hour ago. “He didn’t say anything, boss.”

  Sucre stood, and the girls at his feet scattered. “Why not?”

  Throwing his shoulders back, Tre went all in. “Because he was too busy getting his ass kicked. Fucker needed to learn you don’t mess with me.”

  The deep, low laugh from Sucre’s throat made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

  “He learned he doesn’t mess with you?”

  Sucre never looked away from Tre, but Brick knew what would come next. “Brick. Who exactly should people in this town know not to mess with?”

  He rose to his feet and nodded with deference. “You, Sucre.”

  Tre spoke up. “I meant—”

  Sucre wrapped his hand around the column of Tre’s neck before he could finish making his excuse. The men stood about the same height, so they stared at each other eye-to-eye. “Tell me, Tre, what condition did you leave Bennie in after this lesson of yours?”

  Tre didn’t answer.

  “Was he dead or alive?”

  “I’m not sure.” Finally, the bluster disappeared.

  “Brick?” Sucre asked quietly.

  “Dead.”

  Sucre moved his face so close to Tre’s, he could have kissed him. “Let me make sure I understand this. You killed somebody who owed me money. You didn’t get my cash. You didn’t even try. And what? You left his fucking body in the middle of a public place?”

  Silence.

  “Answer me, niño,” he breathed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  For the first time, Sucre turned his head to face Brick, but his hand stayed planted firmly at the base of Tre’s neck. “I assume you took care of this, Brick?”

  “Of course.”

  “Where is the body now?”

  “In the bed of my truck, parked out back.” He dug out the two twenties he’d lifted off Bennie. “This was all the money he had on him.”

  “Bring it to my office. Bring Tre too. Someone will take care of Bennie while we all…talk this through.”

  He knew Tre would be getting a lesson from Sucre tonight, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to watch. He nodded at Sucre’s words and guided Tre to the back room. The kid eyed the bed but didn’t ask any questions.

  Sucre joined them a minute later, loosening his tie as he came in the door. “You want to help me deliver this lesson, Brick?”

  “No, sir. I don’t.” The very thought of it turned his stomach.

  The boss lifted his eyebrow as he hung his jacket on the back of a chair. Brick almost never told him no, but the man had asked him what he wanted. He took a chance with the truth.

  “All right, but if this lesson doesn’t take, I might need your considerable, ah, assets to help drive home the message next time. Now get out of here.”

  Tre looked like a rabbit caught in a snare.

  Brick dropped Bennie’s money on one of the chairs, then backed out the door.

  “Drop your pants, boy,” Sucre purred. “This is going to hurt.”

  ***

  Brick spent twenty minutes in the shower, trying to wash off the horrors of the day. It never worked, but he couldn’t stop trying. His skin turned red and raw from how hard he scrubbed, but nothing could erase the mental picture of what would happen to Tre tonight or the memories of what the kid did to Bennie.

  He’d seen a lot of fucked-up shit in his life, and he’d learned to lock it all up in a box inside his head. The box didn’t usually leak until he was alone. Right now, it threatened to explode.

  Wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, he ambled to the fridge and grabbed a beer. The cold, crisp taste normally helped soothe him, but tonight, he didn’t think anything could distract him from the vile images crowding his mind.

  Nothing, except Olivia.

  He glanced at the clock on the microwave and shook his head at the display. Only nine o’clock. He would have guessed closer to midnight.

  Early enough she was probably awake. She’d given him her number. He could call her.

  But what could he say? Hey baby, I watched a guy get beat to death tonight. How was your day?

  He shook his head and carried the cold glass bottle to his bed, where he propped himself up against the pillows on the headboard. His phone sat right there on the wobbly nightstand, a tempting distraction from the nasties assaulting his brain.

  It wouldn’t take much. He wanted to hear her voice. To feel like a normal man for a little while.

  He didn’t keep any contacts in his phone, so he went to his list of recent calls. Hers was the only number he hadn’t erased. He resolved to memorize it, to minimize the possibility of exposing her.

  His finger hovered over the touchscreen for several seconds, as his need for her warred with his conscience. His conscience lost. Before he could argue with himself any longer, he touched the screen, initiating the call.

  She answered on the first ring, and her soft voice soothed like a gentle balm on his ragged soul. “Hello?”

  “Olivia?” he rasped.

  “You called. I—I didn’t think you would, but I’m glad you did.”

  He took a long pull of his beer. “I just…wanted to hear your voice.”

  She made a small humming sound. “Bad night?” She didn’t wait for an answer, which was a blessing. “I have a feeling your threshold is pretty high.”

  He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. She had no idea.

  Or maybe she did. The girl was pretty fucking perceptive. Beautiful and smart. The whole package.

  He needed to lose himself in her for a while. “What are you doing right now?” he asked.

  “Mmm. Grading papers. I’m glad you’re giving me an excuse to take a break. How are things going at the construction site?”

  “Not bad. I worked with your brother today.” Though
the man hadn’t even spared him a glance. These days, Will treated him as though he didn’t even exist. At least the guy didn’t try to take a swing at him.

  “How is it with him? He’s not being an asshole, is he?”

  He loved the bite in her voice. Like she would take her brother to task for him. He’d never ask her to, but the idea warmed him. “Nah. But things would probably change if he knew we were talking right now.” Will could never know. Nobody could.

  “I am going to tell him about us.”

  He sat up, tendrils of alarm wrapping around his chest. “Tell him what? There’s nothing to tell.”

  She laughed softly. “Yes, there is. I’m going to tell him we’re talking. He should know… I like you. I want his support.”

  “Olivia, you can’t.” Even one person knowing she mattered to him was one person too many. Even if Will would never intentionally hurt her, one wrong word said to one wrong person could be the difference between life and death.

  “I can, and I will. Look, my family is important to me. You’re not some dirty little secret I have to keep.”

  Another flash of warmth shot through him, but he shook it off. “I know, baby, but…there are bad people in my life.” Understatement of the year. “We have to be careful or they’ll hurt you to hurt me.”

  She said nothing for a moment, then she answered. “Someday, you’re going to fill me in on those details, but I’ll accept what you’re saying for now. Still, you’re not getting off the hook with my family. They won’t spread our business to the underworld. I promise.”

  Will would lose his shit—and rightfully so—but Brick couldn’t help the welling pride because this smart, beautiful woman wanted to claim him as her own. No one had wanted to claim him in, well, ever. “Your brother is not going to take this well.”

  Her laugh tinkled like bells. God, he loved the sound of it. “You let me worry about my brother. We’re having lunch together next Sunday. I’ll break it to him in person.”

  At least he had a little more than a week before the inevitable fallout. “You’ll call me if you need me before then?” he asked gruffly.