“You did all this?” he whispered, walking up to the piece I had been working on before I got kidnapped.
“Nope, I just rent the space for someone else to use right outside my bedroom door,” I deadpanned.
Ignoring my passive-aggressive comment, he moved deeper into the room, where my finished pieces were stacked. I was supposed to drop off new work for the art gallery and just hadn’t gotten to it yet. Picasso flipped through the paintings until he stopped and pulled one out, holding it up.
The painting was of a woman who had clearly just had sex but was left alone in the bed. Curled into a ball, arms wrapped around the pillow and the sheet barely covering her ass, a tear shimmered on her cheek.
The same emotions I’d been feeling as I painted that came rushing back. This was why I didn’t want anyone to know that I was the artist. Raw emotions were bled over every canvas; it was the one place I allowed myself to feel everything. Now having Picasso, a fellow artist, seeing into my soul, it was too much.
Leaving the room, I set to work on getting the bed made, refusing to let the tears that welled in my eyes fall. I was stronger than this; I didn’t need anyone to coddle me and tell me everything would be alright. We could survive without romance. Physical need was just that—a need. There didn’t need to be emotion to scratch an itch and move on with your life. It was the world and society that said everyone needed to have a special person that you connected with romantically. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. All it did was make things complicated and messy. I didn’t have time for that kind of shit in my life.
As I tucked in the last corner of the sheet, I went to grab pillows from my room when Picasso’s arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me to his chest. “So the little vixen has a soft side.”
He leaned down and brushed his nose along the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my back. “Tonight you showed me the person who painted those pieces. Harper makes you vulnerable in ways I haven’t even seen around Weston. So tell me, which one is the real Dax?”
Turning in his arms, I looked up at him, his chocolate-colored eyes filled with desire and fear.
“They both are, but the Dax that Harper sees died a long time ago with her twin. Harper is the only person that I still know and keep in contact with from that time of my life. That was back when I still had rose-colored glasses and thought I would travel the world with my paints. Seems the universe had different plans for me and decided to teach me the hard way that the world will take everything from you unless you fight to keep it safe. I won’t risk that happening again, Picasso, no matter what it costs me to do it.”
“Don’t you get it, Dax? We are the same in this. We need to fight together, not against one another. The woman who can paint like that is just as strong as the enforcer for an underlord. Not everything needs to come with bloodshed and brutality.” Picasso’s voice was raw with the emotions he was feeling.
I stood there searching his face, trying to see what he saw in me to say something so very innocent. He still had his whole family. They might not agree with what he was doing with his life, but they were still alive to care. There was no way he could know the pain of losing the other half of your soul. Weston and Harper helped me patch what heart I had left together, but it was scarred and tainted. The things I’d done to keep my people safe would leave anyone blemished, and it wasn’t going to end any time soon.
“It’s pretty to think that, Picasso, but that isn’t the world I live in, and one of these days you’ll have to take your own blindfold off and see it isn’t yours either. Thinking that people won’t do whatever it takes to survive will get you killed. I can’t protect you from yourself—no one can,” I whispered and pulled out of his arms.
I walked into my room, grabbed two of the forty pillows I had, and brought them back to him. “I’m going to work on a few things down in Weston’s office. If you need anything, just make yourself at home.”
Picasso opened his mouth as if he was going to say something more but then thought better of it.
After an hour or so catching up on emails and things for Silver Bullet Ink, I decided it was time to deal with my surprise houseguest. I stopped at the landing to listen, but the house was silent, making me feel fairly confident Picasso was asleep. Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, I saw it was one a.m., and from what I noticed, these boys were early to bed, early to rise, so it seemed a safe bet.
Back out in the garage, I shifted the shelves and flicked on the light as I headed down. With each step, I packed away all the emotions that Picasso had pulled out of me and readied myself for what I needed to do. This is who I was and the life I chose for myself, no point in thinking of what could have been. Reaching the basement, I saw the delivery man was indeed awake and thrashing in his bindings. When he saw me, his eyes went wide and he struggled even harder, but the leather restraints wouldn’t budge.
I walked over to the counter and pulled open a drawer, revealing a pair of thin spandex gloves with a coated palm for extra grip. Slipping them on, I then grabbed a few other items I thought I might need depending on how much trouble this guy was going to cause me. Selecting one of my thin knives, I walked over to the man, flipping the knife and watching his eyes track the weapon.
“Hello, I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Dax. I know you’re wondering why on earth you’ve been brought down here and strapped to a chair. The thing is, the owner of Lucifer’s and I have an arrangement that Tino is always the one who delivers to me. Unfortunately, I have some major trust issues and just can’t stand the thought of unknown people knowing where I live. So imagine my surprise when you showed up with a gun hidden in with my order.” I bent over so we were eye level. “I’m sure you can see the dilemma here.”
The man nodded his head and tried to talk around the gag, but nothing he said was decipherable. Reaching around, I unhooked the gag and let it fall from his mouth as I brought my knife up to his throat.
“Okay, let’s try that again, and let’s be honest the first time around. I’m not really in the mood to torture you tonight,” I sighed.
“Look, I had no idea that this was your house. I was given instructions to take out the driver and to take the pizza to the address. Then I was supposed to grab a girl named Harper and bring her back to another location,” the man blurted, panic bright in his eyes and sweat pouring off his brow.
My blood ran cold at his words. I wasn’t their target—Harper was, and I just sent her home.
“Who gave you these orders?” I demanded through clenched teeth.
“I don’t know, honestly. I was given a burner phone and told to wait for instructions. I didn’t have a choice. I was short on my sales, and when I couldn’t pay my part, they were going to kill me, so when they offered me the chance to do a job with no questions asked, I took it,” the man babbled.
I growled at the man, letting my knife dig into his fleshy neck. “Tell me who your drug boss is, then. I also want the location that you were going to take Harper to once you grabbed her.”
“Little Fingers is who I deal for,” the man squeaked out. “If you pull the phone out of my pocket, you’ll find the address they texted me. Please, I just needed to clear my debt, I didn’t mean to get mixed up with Two Tricks.”
“How do you know that I work for Two Tricks?” I barked, grabbing his throat with my hand and squeezing. I was too mad to use my knife and end up killing him accidentally.
Gargling, the man tried to answer, but my grip was too tight. Letting up slightly, he wheezed out the answer that would change everything.
“Mastiff knows you’re working with the Phantom Saints, so he sided with the De León cartel and they’re coming for you, then Two Tricks…”
The man might have had more to tell me, but in my rage, I screamed out, letting my knife slice easily across his neck. Needing to do something with my anger, I stabbed him in the chest until I was out of breath. Gasping for air, I shook back my blood-soaked hair when I hea
rd a sound. Looking over to my left, I saw Picasso standing at the bottom of the stairs, horror written all over his face.
“Dax—what have you done?”
“Putting the stamp of approval on the deal between you and Tricks. You’ve gotten what you wanted, Picasso. Now it’s time to see just how far you’ll go to keep everyone safe,” I said, tossing the dagger and watching it bury itself into the wall as I walked over to the shower I had installed for easy cleanup.
Stripping out of my bloody clothes, I turned the water as hot as it could go and stepped under the stream. The water ran red as I scrubbed my body, removing all traces of what had just happened in this room.
“I don’t understand, Dax. Who the fuck is—was—that guy? How did he even get down here? Was he trapped here the whole time you were gone?” Picasso demanded, his tone full of self-righteous indignation.
Rinsing the soap from my hair, I charged at him, finger pointed right in his bitch-ass face. “That man was here to kidnap Harper and use her against ME! It seems we have a rat in both our groups, because your pal Mastiff knows that we are hanging around each other and assumed that meant we teamed up. Now the De León cartel and the Mad Dogs have started their own partnership, and that means we are completely and utterly FUCKED!”
Picasso stepped back at the venom in my words, looking back at the man I killed, slumped and covered in blood. “You didn’t have to kill him—he didn’t do the job. He could have just run or gone into hiding.”
“God! WAKE THE FUCK UP, Picasso!” I screamed. “We’re at war, and that is only the first of the deaths that will be on both our hands. This is what it means to do what is necessary to keep our people safe. Do what you want with the situation, but I need to go find out if they sent another person after my friend. If they did, I’ll kill that motherfucker too.”
Walking into my closet with a towel wrapped around my hair, I pulled all the clothes in the very back to the side, revealing large gun safe. Swiftly, I unlocked it and took stock of what I had available to me even though I knew every single item in here like the back of my hand. Pulling out my favorite pair of Smith & Wesson handguns, I pulled the slide back, double-checking there was one in the chamber as I slid home the clip.
Setting them aside, I pulled on my black jeans and a simple black t-shirt before slipping on the shoulder holster, making sure it was adjusted so it wouldn’t flop around under my jacket. Then I put on my thigh holster that would hold my second gun and two knives. Grabbing two extra clips for each gun, I packed those into the pouch on the small of my back. Finishing off, I slipped on fingerless gloves that had metal reinforcements on the knuckles.
Snatching up my steel-toed combat boots, I glared down at the monitor on my ankle, cursing its existence. Reaching into my nightstand, I pulled out my inner earpiece that Weston would be able to connect to with his phone. I hit his speed dial, and it took three rings for him to answer.
“Dax, what’s wrong,” Wes asked, sounding like he’d been awake.
“I need you to pull up the tracker on Harper and tell me where she is. Then I need you to look up everything you know about the drug dealer Little Fingers and if he has ties to the De León cartel or the Mad Dogs,” I instructed as I shrugged on my leather jacket.
“Care to give me a hint on what’s got you in Terminator mode?” Wes asked. I could already hear him typing.
“Seems that we have a leak in the boat, and someone came up with the bright idea to go after Harper to get to me. Oh, and tell Eagle that the deal is on. Now that the De León cartel and Mastiff have joined forces against Tricks, we are gonna need all the help we can get,” I answered, hurrying down the stairs. “Got a location for me yet?”
“Yeah, looks like she’s at home. I’m checking her security real quick to make sure she doesn’t have any unwanted company.”
I knew this day would come, and in preparation I made sure that I had eyes and ears on Harper at all times. Under the guise of needing a person to practice piercing on, I put a tracker in the jewelry I used. Thankfully, your conch wasn’t something you changed the stud on often. Wes also talked her into letting him set up her home security so we could set it up with two systems—one for us and the other that she could use like normal. Harper was far too pure and trusting to land in this darkness, and I would be damned if anyone fucked that up for her.
“I got six guys at the house; it looks like Harper is tied to a chair in her kitchen. With the state of the house, she didn’t go down without a fight. Those self-defense classes you gave her might be the only reason they didn’t get a chance to take her somewhere else yet,” Wes relayed. “Two are talking to her in the kitchen while the others are guarding the front and back doors. When you hit the house, be ready for a real fight on your hands, because these guys look professional.”
“Got it. I’m sending you the address for the location they were supposed to bring her once caught. I’ll check back in once I’ve got Harper,” I said, hanging up and hitting the button for the garage door.
Seeing Picasso already there leaning against his bike, I raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t really think I was going to let you go on your own to deal with this, did you?” he challenged.
Grabbing my helmet off the shelf, I tucked it under my arm as I walked over to him. “After the display down in the basement, I wasn’t sure you would even still be here, to be honest. Thought I might have pushed you too far out of your rose-colored world.”
“Dax, I’m not blind, I just choose not to let the evil in this world get its claws deeper into my life than I have to. Respecting life shouldn’t be seen as a weakness,” Picasso said with a shrug.
“If you’re going to play in my world it is. So either find your balls and get the fuck on the bandwagon or go home. I can’t worry about keeping you alive when Harper is my priority,” I snapped as I pulled on my helmet, effectively ending the discussion.
Seconds later I was flying full throttle though the city streets of L.A., weaving around cars, ignoring stop lights, and praying that I wouldn’t be too late. My hope was that they would see her value in drawing me out rather than trying to get information out of her. I still had the element of surprise on my side—they had no clue about her added security that was strictly known between Wes and me.
Picasso was right on my heels, leaving me impressed that he had the guts to pull the same reckless shit I did. What normally was a thirty-minute drive was cut down to fifteen after disregarding all traffic laws. As we got to her neighborhood, I made sure to park two streets over, killing the engine as we coasted closer. Thankfully she lived off a busier street, so traffic noise at this time of night wasn’t as noticeable. Stashing my helmet, I pulled one of my guns as I waited for Picasso to join me. I was pleased when I saw he too had a gun in his grip.
Maybe there was a chance he could survive this war.
I motioned for him to follow me as we headed for the back of the house. Harper was lucky enough to get this amazing bungalow with an upper loft that she inherited from her grandparents. Even better, it had a large yard with a bunch of fruit trees on the property to give us coverage. Once in the trees and as close as we could get, I reached up to my earpiece and tapped it twice.
“Go ahead. I cut the motion sensors and the floodlight to the backyard. The window sensors say that her bedroom window is open. The guys inside haven’t changed positions,” Wes informed me.
Tapping the earpiece again, I turned to Picasso. “I’m going in through her bedroom window upstairs. When I get the drop on the guys by the front door, that will draw the rest of them so you can sneak in the back door and get Harper the hell out of there. Take her back to the compound and I’ll catch up with you guys once I deal with these assholes.”
“Fuck, Dax, you can’t take them all on. That’s suicidal,” Picasso hissed.
“That’s the plan. If you don’t like it, then leave now, but I’m going to save my best friend,” I growled and headed off.
Keeping to
the shadows, I followed along the trees as far as they would take me. Darting to the bushes that edged the house, I climbed the ivy-covered lattice up to the second floor. There was a small overhang just under Harper’s bedroom window, giving me a perch to stand on as I used my knife to pop out her screen. Dropping to the floor in her room, I stashed the knife and pulled my gun once again.
Crouched low, I moved my way across the room until I could peer through the railing of the stairs to see two guys in suits with guns watching the front of the house. The way the house was set up, everything on the first level was a fairly open concept, with the kitchen as the central location. Ever so slowly, I stood, took aim, and shot the first guy, quickly followed by the second, both head shots.
“Fuck, someone’s in the house!” one guy called, rushing into the living room. I picked him off next.
“Second floor!”
A shot went off, and I got clipped on the left thigh from one of them hiding behind the couch. It wasn’t a great angle, which is what saved me from getting shot worse. Returning fire, I got him in the shoulder, but he ducked down before I could get off a second shot. I needed to move now that they knew I was up here. Sliding down the wall, I crouched and hobbled down the stairs as my leg burned with the skin getting pulled around the wound. When I reached the landing that would put me right out in the open, I took a few deep breaths and dashed forward, vaulting over the railing as two more shots were fired. I landed and rolled out of the way, behind a large, overstuffed armchair that had been knocked over.
Peeking out, I saw the guy behind the couch pop his head up, and this time I didn’t miss my mark.
Four down, two to go.
“Dax, I presume,” a voice called out from the direction of the back sunroom.
Two Tricks (Hidden Empire Book 1) Page 17