Kiss the Stars

by Jackson, A. L.

  “What?” I demanded, my voice held low like it could protect the kids. But it didn’t matter. Because Penny knew. I could feel it—her terror invade the space.

  “Nixon, what have you done?”

  Thirty-Five

  Leif

  Three Years Ago

  Panic.

  Desperation.

  They whipped my blood into a storm as I raced through the streets. Weaving through cars and running through red lights like no obstacle could stand in front of me.

  The world a blur except for one singular focus.

  My family.

  My family.

  I chanted their names as the miles burned from under me.

  Like they could hear me.

  Like Maddie would listen. Fucking answer her phone so I could tell her to get the hell out of the house, hide out until I could get to her.

  But it only rang a thousand times, phone clutched in my hand as I dialed it again and again as I blazed down the streets.

  Reckless.

  But that’s what this life had been.

  It was time for this to end.

  I just had to get there.

  Get there in time.

  I careened around the last turn onto our street, pushing the bike so hard my knuckles felt like they were gonna bust open.

  Muscles tight.

  Lined with steel.

  Terror screamed up my spine when I saw the red and blue lights strobing against the daylight. Cul-de-sac at the end filled with fire trucks and cop cars and ambulances.

  This neighborhood that was supposed to be a safe place. An area where our daughter could run and play and grow.

  Bile rushed, and my bike flew down the narrow street before I was ramming on the brakes, tires skidding. I didn’t even let it come to a full stop before I lay it down and jumped off.

  Couldn’t even feel my feet as I raced for the house.

  My spirit already inside.

  Screaming and screaming.

  No. Please. God. No.

  A crowd had gathered. A circle of morbid curiosity that pressed and vied to get closer to the tragedy.

  It was.

  I could already feel it.

  The evil that oozed from the walls. Shouted its wickedness. A claiming of the innocent.

  It didn’t matter my soul already knew.

  That it screamed and roared with agony.

  I shoved through the people who formed a tight circle, held back by the yellow tape.

  All of them gasping and crying and speculating.

  A vicious buzz that screamed in my ears.

  No, no, no, no.

  “Maddie!” I screamed, raging, pushing through.

  Jagged breaths and ice-cold blood.

  Hands sought to hold me back, but I broke through the tape as I screamed, “Maddie!”

  Officers grabbed me by both arms to keep me from getting to the house.

  I roared, breaking free, and I surged through the door while they shouted at me to stop. Guns drawn.

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

  I had to get to them.

  I flew inside, and I slid, slipping on their blood. My body gave, and I fell.

  Falling.

  This hell unending.

  On my hands and knees, I crawled across the floor. Going nowhere with the pile of men who held me back.

  But I fought and I fought, because I couldn’t stop, refused to give up.

  I was weeping.

  Guttural sounds ripping from my chest.

  “Maddie. Haylee. Please.”

  I needed to hold them.

  One more time.

  “Haylee. Oh God. My baby.”

  “Get down, on your stomach.”

  The shouts banged the walls, but the only thing I could hear was my spirit that wept.

  Wails shattering the air.

  Mine gutted.

  Hers forever silenced.

  My baby.

  I was nothing.

  Nothing.

  Boneless.

  Empty.

  Nothing but rage.

  * * *

  Men hauled me away in shackles and chains. The interrogation felt like it went on forever as I sat there with my clothes stained with their affliction.

  The curse I’d put on their lives.

  As if I could do this.

  But I had, hadn’t I?

  The sins scored and seared and marred until I was nothing but rotted flesh.

  Their goodness stripped away.

  And the only thing left the vengeance that was to come.

  Thirty-Six

  Leif

  “Haylee!” The cry rocking from my mouth jolted me to sitting, heart crashing like a beast in my chest.

  Worst part?

  Worst was the way my arms burned with the vacant weight of my little girl.

  The way my soul screamed with the truth of what I’d done.

  The way it’d done for the last three years.

  I dropped my head into my hands, squeezing it like it might stand the chance of blotting it out.

  This unending pain.

  Wondering how the fuck I’d gotten here.

  Loving a girl that part of me had hated.

  The way I’d been tormented with a nameless, shapeless face.

  And now she was the only face I could see.

  My guts twisted at the idea that bastard had ever even touched her. Last night, I’d had every intention of going for him. To just end it. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

  Mia. Mia.

  My spirit groaned with her name. Body aching, already fucking addicted to her touch. Should have known I could never have them. That they were going to slip through my fingers like sand. Gone the second I’d hoped they were real.

  My sins too great.

  The evils I’d committed had accrued too much debt.

  Now, I had to pay.

  Rot in this motherfucking misery.

  Hell.

  That’s what I got for thinking I could possibly live in Eden.

  And there was Karma, sitting on the shitty couch across the room, buffing her fingernails while she smirked.

  Well-played, bitch, well-played.

  My attention jerked to the nightstand of the rundown hotel where I was staying when my phone lit up with a call. Looked like I’d missed about fifteen thousand of them.

  I grabbed it, squinting through the grainy light of the room.

  Stomach clenched when I didn’t recognize the number.

  Warily, I accepted it. “Hello?”

  “Leif.”

  Sound of her voice made me feel like I’d gotten knocked with a sledgehammer to the back of the head.

  My mother.

  “Don’t hang up,” she demanded in her hard way.

  I roughed out bitter laughter. Was so not in the mood. “Give me one reason not to.”

  “I’ll give you three. Mia and her kids.”

  Her words pierced me all the way through.

  “What about them?” Tried to make it come off strong, but my voice fucking cracked.

  “Listen to me, Leif, we don’t have much time. I have reason to believe they’re in danger.”

  “And how the fuck do you know anything about them?” Aggression pulsed with the appeal.

  She huffed out a rugged sound. “You think I haven’t been watching you all these years? Following you? You’re my son.”

  She said it like it meant something.

  But I didn’t have fucking time to argue with her about the virtue of good parenting right then, did I?

  “Listen to me, Leif.” Her tone didn’t help things. “Braxton came to me last night. He told me you called him distraught because you found out Nixon is the father of your girlfriend’s children.”

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  Couldn’t stop it from infiltrating my mind.

  Anxiety spreading wide, I slipped from the bed and started pulling on my clothes that I’d dumped on the floor while I had the p
hone pressed between my ear and shoulder.

  “Tell me why you think they’re in danger.” The words were gravel.

  “Nixon had invested in this Mia girl’s gallery. He was moving product through it. Some stolen art and guns. I don’t know if she knew or not, but from what Braxton said about her, I’m guessing she didn’t. Nixon was already in deep with Krane, but because they’re blood, he kept letting him slide. Giving him the benefit of the doubt. But Krane isn’t a fool. His suspicions deepened when shipments coming from the gallery started coming up missing. A woman at that gallery was killed as a warning.”

  Apprehension flooded my system.

  Blood thudding hard when I realized it was all tied.

  Lana.

  Nixon was responsible for Lana.

  Sweat slicked my skin.

  Awareness riding free.

  Terror taking over.

  I shoved my feet into my shoes while she continued talking.

  “Apparently, they’ve had the girl followed, too. A warning that they were watching. Keeton went to Krane two days ago, Leif. Gave him the evidence he had that Nixon is the one who’s been guilty all along. When I found out what Braxton knew about your connection, I put a tail on Nixon. Nixon left for Georgia last night, Leif, coming after her, and one of Krane’s men flew there after him.”

  Horror slicked beneath my skin.

  “What?” I forced through the clotted disorder.

  “I know you don’t believe me or trust me. I get it. I was a horrible mother. I know that I was. Since the day you were born. Selfish and stupid. And when I met Keeton . . . I thought I’d finally found a solution for who I was. For all the ways I’d failed you. Someone to take care of us. And he did in his own way.”

  My teeth clenched, unable to process all of this.

  She continued without stopping. “I know you think Keeton blamed you for skimming off that deal. Think he believed it was you. Thought we didn’t care.”

  I ground my teeth in spite. Barely able to keep it together.

  “He didn’t, Leif. He never condoned what happened, and he never would have gone after you. But once you were gone, he had to act like he was in line with Krane . . . for the sake of Petrus. For the sake of the family. For the sake of Braxton. He had to protect everyone who was involved. If we went after Nixon? You know there would have been more bloodshed. He had to make the choice.”

  I could hear the weight of her swallow. “We decided it was best to let you think we were against you. Safer for you to stay far away from L.A. Until we had enough to take out Nixon without it putting the rest of the crew in danger. Believe me or not. It’s up to you. But it is the truth.”

  A jagged breath ripped from my lungs.

  This was what I’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? To see Nixon go down?

  Burn at the motherfucking stake?

  An end to the scourge that he was.

  But the only thing I cared about right then was Mia.

  Mia and Penny and Greyson.

  Possession rushed. A protectiveness that blotted out everything but them.

  “I sent Braxton to take up your side. His flight landed an hour ago. Go. Protect her.”

  She ended the call without saying anything else.

  Instantly, I dialed Mia.

  My soul chanted it. Mia. Mia. Mia.

  It went to voicemail.

  I tried again with the same result.

  Dread curled, blood drenched in violence, mind spiraling that direction.

  I dialed Lyrik while I grabbed the gun I’d shoved into the nightstand drawer. Checking that it was loaded.

  He answered on the first ring.

  Like maybe he’d been waiting on me to call.

  “Lyrik.”

  Worry silently shouted back before he grunted out the words, “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Mia’s not answering,” I said instead.

  “Yeah, that’s because her prick of an ex-boyfriend showed here a couple hours ago and the guy who was supposed to be sticking by her side took off like a pussy.”

  Shit. Fuck. I blinked, trying to see through the barrage of fear that impaled me.

  “Things get too heavy for you?” he taunted.

  Yeah, way too fucking heavy.

  “Where are they? Need to know, right now.”

  Thought he must have felt the violence that was skating from my tongue because he lowered his voice like he was trying to keep the conversation from the rest of the house. “What’s going on?”

  “Nixon isn’t who you think he is.”

  “Yeah, well I think he’s a piece of shit, so . . .”

  “He was using the gallery as a cover, Lyrik. Running shit through the back. Lana was killed as a warning. Need to make sure Mia is safe. Think they’ve been sending a message this whole time.”

  A message that was meant for Nixon but somehow had ended up as one for me.

  My purpose.

  My reason.

  This goal.

  “Fuck.” Something banged in the background. “Motherfucker.”

  His voice dropped in contempt. “They left with him two hours ago, Leif. Got some bullshit message that they were taking the kids for ice cream. Knew it. Knew it way down deep that something was amiss. That fucker is dead.”

  Sickness clawed. Fact she was with him. The kids. The kids.

  The world spun for a beat.

  I gritted my teeth. “Where? Where did they go?”

  “I don’t know where they went. Fuck.” Could feel Lyrik coming apart, too.

  “Dad.” Brendon’s distanced voice broke into our chaos.

  “Not right now, Brendon.”

  “Dad, listen. I know you’re upset about Aunt Mia leaving. I know where they’re at. Where Penny is. I have her on my locator on Snap.”

  “Where?” I demanded.

  Silence stretched on for too fucking long, and when Lyrik spoke again, the entire world dropped out from under me.

  No footing.

  “Not at an ice cream parlor.”

  His voice was grim. Hatred riding in behind the despair.

  “Where?”

  “North. Some sketch neighborhood.”

  “Drop me the location.”

  “Coming with you.”

  “No, Lyrik.”

  “This is my sister and niece and nephew you’re talking about.”

  I swallowed around the ball of barbed wire in my throat. “These people . . . they’re cruel . . . evil,” I told him, knowing he now knew the truth about me.

  I was one of them.

  “You think I’m a stranger to that? Coming with you. Where are you?”

  “About five minutes from your house.”

  Hadn’t been able to stay with Mia, but I couldn’t bring myself to get very far, either.

  “Meet me at Whitaker and Taylor in ten.”

  He didn’t give me a chance to refuse before he hung up.

  But we didn’t have time to fuck around. Despair hit me at the thought that we might already be too late.

  I purged the thought and shoved my gun into the back of my jeans, tore open the door, and stepped outside, furiously blinking through the blazing daylight.

  Trying to keep control.

  Focus.

  Knowing the time had come, but it looked entirely different than I’d ever anticipated.

  My gaze moved.

  Drawn to the parking lot below.

  Braxton was there, leaning against a car. Skin dark and eyes fierce and loyalty firm. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and straightened.

  I lifted my chin.

  He grinned.

  “It’s time,” I told him.

  “Yeah, brother. I know. Let’s roll.”

  I bounded down the steps of the crappy hotel and climbed onto my bike. Braxton got behind the wheel of the car he’d rented, falling in line behind me. My bike grumbled and groaned, reigned like a pack of vicious dogs that were fighting to be unleashed.

  I took the co
uple turns through the shadowed Savannah streets.

  Lyrik rolled out beside me at the intersection where he’d told us to meet. Tattooed arms stretched out, hands fisted on the handlebars. He gave me a look. I gave him one in return.

  He throttled it, flying down the road.

  Braxton and I followed suit.

  Thirty-Seven

  Leif

  It was a sleazy street.

  Same damn story but a different town.

  Rundown houses on every side. Chain link fences fronting the overgrown yards. Sparse trees and dead weeds growing up all over the place.

  A few were nicer. People trying to make something out of this life.

  Our motorcycles rumbled through the stagnant heatwaves as we took another turn deeper into the neighborhood, our pace slowed and controlled while our spirits raged.

  Could feel it.

  Coming off of Lyrik.

  Coming off of me.

  Do or die.

  And I had no idea what I was going to come up on. Come up against.

  If it’d be the same scene that had destroyed me three years before.

  If this would be my end.

  But I would give it all to them. No questions or reservations.

  Lyrik put his left hand down, gesturing for us to slow. We eased off to the right of the narrow neighborhood road.

  Engines chugging and rumbling before we killed them.

  Silence rolled.

  Evil howling through the sticky stillness.

  We both climbed off our bikes, and Braxton stepped out of the car. Could only imagine what we looked like.

  Nothing but bloodshed and brutality.

  Someone was probably peering out their blinds right that second, calling the cops, which part of me had already wanted to do, but I knew full well this had to be handled a certain way.

  Only chance we had was taking this motherfucker by surprise.

  We edged down the street. Three of us shoulder to shoulder, stalking toward disaster.

  Each step riddled with my deepest fear.

  We moved farther down the road. Past one house. Then another.

  Every second felt like eternity.

  Torture.