Don’t waste your money on a fancy service for me. I don’t need it. Just scatter my ashes at Piedmont Park.
I’ll be watching you from wherever my tired old soul goes next.
She didn’t sign it, but he had no doubt those were his grandmother’s words.
He balled the letter tightly in his fist, then hurled it at the wall only to watch it bounce pitifully to the ground. His blood burned to break something, to swipe everything from the desk onto the ground. Instead, he stomped outside to the gazebo where he sat with her last. Then he vaulted up and wrapped his hands around one of the beams framing the turret.
He didn’t count as he pulled his body up and eased it down. His mind was too busy raging. He pulled up…eased down.
It didn’t matter whether he could have saved her. She was dead. After everything he’d fucking done to keep her safe, she was dead anyway.
And she knew. She fucking knew what it cost him.
Why wasn’t it enough to save her?
His lats and his biceps burned, but he pressed on, pushing himself harder. Until the anger drained away. Until the impotence stopped crushing him. Until he could really focus on the words his grandma had left behind.
She thought he’d done right by her. She was grateful. She was sorry.
Could he forgive himself?
Who knows?
Could he forgive her?
Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, he looked up at the blue sky. That one was a no-brainer. Even though his heart weighed heavy, he was ready to start his new life, and in her way, his grandma had given him her blessing.
He wasn’t going to waste this chance.
***
Brick’s first order of business was to collect his cash from the apartment. He needed money if he had any chance of making a clean break from Sucre.
Everyone seemed to be watching as he parked his truck and strode into his place. He emptied out the hollow leg of his table, stuffing all the bills into a backpack. Gently, he wrapped his tiny, childhood race car into a bandana and added it to the bag, along with the photo of his grandma and the napkin from the Majestic. Those were the only things he wanted to keep. Everything else here could be replaced.
He’d tried calling Olivia on the way back, but the calls went straight to voicemail. The plan was to go to her apartment from here and never look back at his old life again. He’d disappear. If anyone was fool enough to come after him, they wouldn’t live to regret it.
He almost didn’t recognize the hope—the promise of freedom—fluttering in his chest. It was so foreign, fragile.
Hefting the pack on his shoulder, he didn’t even spare a look around as he walked out the door for the last time. Still no answer from Olivia when he tried calling her again, but her car sat in the parking lot when he pulled up to her building.
His hand was poised to knock on the front door when he caught sight of Tre’s little brother, watching him from the sidewalk. A hundred ways to kill the kid shuffled through his head, but if the boy was here, it might already be too late. He turned away from the door and approached the teenager with caution.
The kid, Devon, shook his head before he could say a word. “Sucre’s got her.”
He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and stared at the boy’s face. It was almost expressionless, except for a small twitch in his left eye.
“I wanted to stop them. Miss T was always good to me. She tried to get me out of this hellhole. I was afraid to let anyone see she mattered to me, though, so I kept my mouth shut.”
For a moment, he’d forgotten the kid’s connection to his girl. “What did they tell you to do?”
Devon’s focus flickered around the parking lot, probably looking for a sign of whether the boss had set up spies. “I’m supposed to be watching for you. Sucre’s got a suspicion you might be involved with Miss Turner, but he’s not sure. I was supposed to stay out of sight and tell him if you showed up. Here.” He held out Olivia’s cell phone. “They’re gonna be searching for this. Your pictures are all over it.”
He shoved the phone in his pocket. If Sucre already had Liv, killing the kid would do no good. Cold sweat trickled down his back. Panic gripped his heart like a vice, but he fought to ignore it. He had to use his head if he wanted to save her. “What tipped him off?”
“He didn’t tell me. He said he was sure the lady would be of interest to at least one person in the crew, and he needed to know if she’d be of interest to you as well. I don’t think he realizes I know her.”
“Shit. Tre had a tail.”
Devon stood up straighter. “What does my brother have to do with this?”
“Olivia came to your apartment trying to find you.” He had no idea if Devon realized what a sociopath his brother was, but now wasn’t the time to mince words. “He’s been stalking her ever since.”
“This is really bad,” Devon whispered.
“You don’t know the half of it. She only wanted to help you. She didn’t understand what your brother is.” He clenched his fists as shards of anger broke through his icy fear. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” From the expression on his face, Devon understood the situation completely.
“Tre trashed her car at the school yesterday.” He gestured to the Corolla, which still showed evidence of the attack. “She called me for help. I made sure your brother was gone, but I should have realized he’d have a tail. Sucre’s probably just waiting for him to implode over you getting recruited.”
“Tell me what to do. How can I help?”
He considered the boy, thought back to Olivia’s steadfast belief he was destined for something better than all this. “Stay here. Don’t let them know you’ve seen me. Don’t let them know what I’ve told you. Wait until they call you, and act like everything is normal. But don’t lie about your connection to Olivia. In fact, you need to disclose it as soon as you can. Otherwise, it seems like you’re hiding it. You got me?”
“Yeah. What are you gonna do?”
A very good question. “I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make sure she gets out of there alive.”
***
Liv
When a strange man grabbed her from her front porch, it didn’t even occur to Liv to try and fight back. All her sister’s pep talks, all of her training…and still, her brain couldn’t process what was happening fast enough for her to react.
So instead of slipping away or twisting the guy’s fingers, she was a sack of potatoes when someone shoved her into the trunk of a car. Thirty minutes later, someone pulled her back out and dragged her into a shady bar. Though it was obvious she was there against her will, no one so much as batted an eye.
The man clasping her arm let her go in front of an ornate throne in the back of the room. The thing looked ostentatious and ridiculous, much like the man who sat on top of it. The man in the sick video she could never unsee.
He wore a white suit like the one John Travolta had in Saturday Night Fever. Flashy rings adorned his fingers and a familiar thick, braided gold chain circled his neck. The crisscrossed braid made her think of the ring she’d given to Jonathan. The one like her mother’s.
She wanted to kill Sucre de la Cruz, but she was outmanned and outgunned. It’s why she didn’t roll her eyes, why she didn’t laugh, and why she didn’t scream. She forced herself to breathe as his gaze slid over her like he was assessing a horse to stud.
“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice carried a hint of a Spanish accent, and it was as smooth as aged bourbon.
She clenched her hands to her chest as she shook her head.
Sucre smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was a serpent’s smile, frightening and cold. “My name is Sucre de la Cruz, and this,” he spread his arms wide, “is my domain.”
She trembled, not even trying to hide it. Let him think his name alone made her quiver. His reputation had permeated Atlanta like a poisonous fog.
This time his smile showed teeth. “I see you k
now of me. I wonder how. Perhaps my face looks familiar. Or is it my body? I’m told I look even better without my clothes.”
“Everyone knows who you are.” Refusing to accept the bait, she kept her voice meek, subservient. No reason to poke the bear.
He picked up a lock of her hair, then let the strands fall from his fingers. “Even a sweet little school teacher such as yourself?”
She swallowed against her dry throat. Nodded. The less she spoke, the less she’d get herself in trouble.
“Tell me, Miss…”
“Turner,” she whispered.
“Why do you think you’re standing before me right now?”
She would never admit to knowing Jonathan. Never. “I don’t know,” she whimpered.
“Really?” He cocked his head, then glanced over her shoulder. “This lady look familiar to any of you?”
“I’ve seen her.” An unfamiliar voice rang out from the small crowd surrounding them. “She was with Devon at Burger King the other night.”
The information clearly took him off guard. He sat up tall in his seat. “Aren’t you full of surprises? Tell me, Miss Turner, what do you have to do with my Devon? And how do you know of his association with me?”
She lowered her eyes. “Devon is—was—one of my students. My best student. I had encouraged him to t-try for a scholarship. When he didn’t do it, I pushed him, and he said he had obligations in his neighborhood, and he worked for someone important.” She fudged the details a little, but it paid off when Sucre puffed up. “I didn’t know it was you.”
Sneaking a glance at the small crowd around her, she continued. “When he stopped coming to class, I dug up his address and tried to talk to his brother about why he wasn’t in school anymore.”
Sucre chuckled. “Ah, things are making much more sense now. You’re very smart, telling me the truth of things. What did you think of Devon’s brother?”
“He scared me.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Not at first. But at the end. It was like I was a mouse, and he was a cat, toying with me, waiting to pounce.”
“I guess you’re smarter than you look.”
The voice behind her was terrifying and familiar. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt Tre move in behind her.
“You sensed exactly what was happening, but what I want to know is—how did you get away from me?”
Sucre nodded, waiting for her answer.
“I hid. There was a burned b-building. It was so dark.” She shivered at the memory. “There were rats.”
Tre stomped his foot. “I knew I should have checked in there. I didn’t think a sweet little thing like you would have the stones to go inside.” He ran his finger up the line of her jaw. “I won’t underestimate you again.”
She prayed he would. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. De La Cruz, for intruding in your business. Really. I didn’t realize you were the important man Devon was talking about. I only wanted to look out for my student. I swear, I won’t ever step foot in this neighborhood again.”
“My dear.” Sucre tutted. “If only it were so simple. I understand now how you’ve taken Tre’s interest, but it solves only half the mystery. What I really want to know is how you’re involved with Brick Barlow.”
She frowned. “I don’t know who that is.”
Sucre shook his head sadly. “Dear Miss Turner, I hope you’re lying. Because if you’re Brick’s girl, no one here will touch you. It would be in my best interest to keep you safe.” He shrugged. “If not, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop my young tomcat from playing with his new mouse.”
He pulled a phone out of his suit pocket and made a call, putting it on speaker. Tears threatened when she heard the answering voice.
“Sir?”
“Devon. Have you seen any sign of Brick?”
“No, sir, but the lady who Quinton grabbed? She’s one of my teachers. She’s really nice. I can’t imagine her anywhere around a guy like Brick.”
Sucre cocked his head. “If you recognized her, why didn’t you say anything to Quinton?”
“I report to you, sir. Besides, I wouldn’t try to talk Quinton out of his orders. It wouldn’t be my place.”
Sucre seemed to accept the words as his due. “Fair enough. Why don’t you come on back? You can keep your teacher company while we sort all this out.” As soon he hung up, Sucre shot out a text, then stuck the phone back into his pocket. “I’ve invited Brick to join our little party. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this once the gang’s all here.”
Chapter 28
Brick
Brick had precious little time to come up with a plan if he wanted to get Olivia out of Sucre’s hands. The only chance he had was to reach out for help. Though he dreaded the way he knew it would play out, his first call had to be to Will.
Pulling Olivia’s phone out of his pocket, he called up the contact.
It only rang twice before her brother answered. “Hey Liv, we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Sucre’s got her,” he rasped. “I need your help to get her back.”
“Fuck.” A crash sounded on the other end of the phone.
“I’m calling Kane. Maybe between the three of us, we can come up with something.” Without waiting for a response, he dialed in his friend and merged the calls.
“Liv, is everything okay?”
He filled them in on everything that had happened over the past two days. Well, everything pertinent to the situation at hand. “I have an idea, but I’m gonna need help with the details and the execution. Kane, do you think your club might be interested in making a little extra cash?”
Thankfully, they hashed out the plan quickly, because he’d barely had the chance to drop off the money before Sucre summoned him to the club.
He sent word to Kane and Liv’s brother before heeding the call. It would only take about twenty minutes to get there. He could only pray it wasn’t too late.
When he walked in, the vibe inside El Cabron was different than he’d ever felt. There was a sense of anticipation, like the dead-eyed girls, the drunks, and the thugs held their breath. Gripping his backpack, he made a beeline straight for his boss.
“Could I steal a minute alone, sir?”
Sucre examined his expression. “Are you worried about something, Brick?”
Of course, he hadn’t missed Olivia’s stark, white face as she sat miserably on Tre’s lap a few feet away. He pretended she wasn’t anything special, though, just another girl scratching an itch for Sucre’s crew.
“My grandmother passed,” he said soberly.
His boss held a hand to his chest. “Did she? I’m sorry to hear it. Sylvie was quite a woman.” He stood. “Let’s talk in my office.”
Dutifully, he followed and closed the door behind him.
Sucre whirled to face him. “I have to say I’m surprised. I thought you might take your stash of money and try to make a run for it.”
“Is that what you thought I was saving for?” He pulled the backpack off his shoulder and emptied the contents on the bed. He’d already removed his keepsakes and stashed them in the truck. “I’ve been saving up to make a proposal.”
Eyeing the money, Sucre folded his arms. “What kind of proposal?”
“I want to buy in. Become a partner in your business.”
Sucre’s eyebrows shot up so high it would have been comical if the stakes weren’t so serious. “You what?”
“I’ve got about forty thousand dollars here. Look, I’m tired of knocking heads together. I’m tired of fighting, but really, how far can I make it in the real world? I tinker with building shit, but who am I kidding? This is who I am.” He deepened his voice. “I know this is always gonna be your business. I was only hoping my role might change. Grow. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Why wait for your grandmother to die to bring me this proposal?” Suspicion laced every word.
He shrugged. “She wouldn’t have approved. I waited out of respect to her, but she’
s gone now. I’ve got to do what’s right for me.”
“So, you give me this money. What do you get out of the deal?”
“My cash means you can front more loans. More loans mean more interest. Part of those profits would go to me. Maybe I could help with recruitment.” His face hardened. “But you wouldn’t treat me like one of your employees anymore. No more tests of loyalty. And you will never touch me again.”
Sucre laughed. “What’s stopping me from keeping this money and rejecting your proposal?”
“You’d have to kill me, which would be a waste. I could help you.”
“You’re not understanding me.” Sucre rapped twice on the wall.
“I know exactly what you meant. You and I both know my grandmother’s health forced me into this life. The only way I’m staying in it is on my terms. You could kill me, but you have nothing to make me stay your bitch.”
Tre let himself in, a quivering Olivia, grasped tightly in his hands.
“You sure?” Sucre taunted.
Intentionally oblivious, he scoffed. “You’re trying to throw pussy at me again? Come on, boss.”
“You’re telling me you don’t know this woman?”
He stared at the love of his life with dead eyes. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“You’re saying you wouldn’t care if I left her to Tre’s tender mercies?”
He barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t wish that sick fuck’s tender mercies on anyone, but I’m not selling my life away for some stranger.” It was a gamble, but he had few cards left to play. “Let him take her home. Maybe he can get some of his perversions out of his system. He won’t be much good to you otherwise.”
Liv let out an involuntary cry as Tre grabbed her crotch roughly through her jeans. “Does this mean I can have her, boss?”
Sucre stared at the ceiling like a parent would, dealing with an unruly child. “You know it’s not truly a hunt when someone hands you the prize on a silver platter, but fine, take her. Go.”
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