by B. B. Hamel
“I understand he offered you more money and customers. That’s a huge deal, right?”
“The Leone family is on our side right now. We’re in a truce with them, technically we’re in an alliance. But sooner or later, they’re going to fuck up, and when they do it’ll be our turn to own the city.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If we start backing down and doing what they want now, then when the time comes we’ll be too weak to step in.” I shook my head and tried to push my anger away. The arrogant bastard pissed me off, thinking he could waltz in here and push me around.
“We don’t want a war with the Jackals. Wars cost money and lives and—”
“I want a war.” I turned to her, staring into her eyes. “I want to kill them. I want to make them bleed. I want Clifton to know that he’s a tiny little ant crawling around in a great big forest, and I’m the fucking wolf that’s going to stomp on him. I want to hurt him. It’s not about business. It’s about pleasure.”
She stared at me, lips parted. I couldn’t read her expression, but it wasn’t good.
And I didn’t care.
I turned back to the window, seething. I wanted to break something, but I knew I had to get it together. I couldn’t lose my temper and go ape shit, not right now.
I had to save that for the Jackals.
“Hang out here for a while,” I said. “Take a walk around, maybe pick out some furniture. There’s a computer in the back if you want to get online.”
“Owain—”
“I’ll be back to pick you up later, all right? I got some shit to do.”
I didn’t look back as I left the store.
I knew I probably shouldn’t leave her alone, but I was too angry to stop myself. I got in my car, but before I left I shot a text to Viktor to make sure he could come hang around the shop and keep an eye on her. I was in a shit mood, but I wasn’t going to leave her without protection.
I pulled the car into traffic and rolled down the block, doing my best to take calming breaths, and failing.
16
Leigh
I sat in the back of the bodega in front of the crappy TV and dreamed about my shop.
Owain did an amazing job. I didn’t know what to expect, and sort f thought it would look like crap when it was ready— but I was so wrong about that. The place looked incredible, way better than it had before. The custom shelves were gorgeous, the flooring was expensive and high quality, and the counter he had built looked even cooler than the one I had before.
I was almost happy about the fire… almost.
Sometimes I forgot why I was doing all this. Sometimes I forgot that I started out as Owain’s captive, that he lent my brother money for drugs, that he blackmailed me with my mother’s safety to keep me around. It was easy to forget when he made me laugh, made me smile, made my stomach do flips when he came close.
It was like I lost my mind, or maybe I was beginning to see the complicated underbelly.
People weren’t one dimensional. They weren’t one thing only. Even killers and gangsters and bastards like Owain were complex and multifaceted. I wanted to get beneath the surface, to really see what made him think and run and act the way he did. I wanted to learn more about him, so much more—and I wanted him to strip me down to my barest essentials in return.
Maybe it was only physical. I had an intense reaction every time he came within a foot of me and it was hard to ignore it. I kept thinking about his lips between my legs, his tongue in my mouth, his taste and touch driving me wild. I wanted more, god, I wanted so much more, but he held it back from me. I didn’t know if it was on purpose or what, but the longer I held out, the more I wanted to give in.
It drove me crazy. Every day, I got a little crazier.
The afternoon after I saw the new store passed like any other. Owain was in a dark mood after meeting with Dante, but that didn’t bother me too much. I knew his business was stressful and he’d handle it however he wanted whether I thought he should do something else or not. So I kept to myself and did my job.
There weren’t too many customers. I stared at the TV and tried to remember all my old t-shirt designs. I heard Sander talk to someone up front, then someone knocked on the door to the back and stepped through.
He was skinny with bad skin and baggy clothes. His hair was falling out in spots and he had a white birthmark along his left temple. He itched at the back of his head and bounced from foot to foot the way Jason used to—like most junkies do when they haven’t gotten high in a while.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, standing.
“I need, uh, I’m here for, you know.” He grinned and I saw he was missing a couple teeth. “The pills. I got cash.”
I frowned a little. “That’s okay.”
“That’s okay?”
“Yeah, that’s okay.” He hadn’t said the right phrase and he was making me uncomfortable.
“I’m not a fucking cop.” He stared at me like he could hardly believe this was happening. “Do you see that I’m not a fucking cop?”
“Sure, you’re not a cop. That’s not the issue.”
“What? Issue? What the fuck?”
“I don’t have what you’re looking for. Can you just get out of here?”
He stepped toward me, eyes bugging out. I glanced toward the duffel bag sitting on the table a few feet from him and he followed my gaze.
“You little bitch.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small oblong object. He flicked it and a knife blade popped up, long and ugly and slightly curved.
I put up my hands. “Just relax, okay? Just calm down.”
“Give them to me, you bitch. All of them.”
“Calm down!” I yelled it as loud as I could, hoping Sander might hear. “You don’t have to freak out, okay?”
He stormed over to the duffel and grabbed it. He wrenched it open and a few pill bottles fell down on the ground.
I got to my feet. “You’re making a mistake. You know that, right?”
“Fuck you.” He grinned at me, brandishing the knife. “Little cunt.”
“The mafia owns these pills. What do you think’s going to happen when they catch you?”
“Don’t give a fuck about them, or you.” He threw the bad over his shoulder and turned toward the door.
I ran at him. I don’t know what I was thinking, but all my anger and built up frustration spilled out in one brainless, vicious attack. He seemed surprised when I jumped on his back and started hitting him in the head as hard as I could with my right first. He thrashed and grabbed at my head, and a violent scream ripped from my throat.
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to end his life and make him pay for thinking he could walk all over me. I didn’t know where it came from, but deep inside I felt like there was an animal trying to get out. I wanted to release all my pent-up rage on this stupid asshole junky that was trying to steal my money, my god damn money, all the money I’d worked so hard for and been through so much for.
He slammed me back against a storage rack. I gasped and fell off him, sliding down to land on my ass. He whirled toward me, knife in his hand again, eyes wide with shock and fear and rage, and in that moment I thought I was about to die. I thought the stupid junky asshole would run me through with his knife and cut open my arteries. I’d bleed out on the floor in the back of some bodega over a bag of fucking pills that didn’t really even matter in the long run.
The worst part, aside from thinking I was about to die, was that the next thought that ran through my mind was about Owain.
I was afraid I’d never see him again.
The door to the back burst open and Sander appeared. He held an old shotgun in his hang, the kind with long metal barrels and a wooden grip. He held it out with the back in his shoulder and his eye down the sight.
“Drop the knife, bitch.”
The junky stared at him, took one step, then turned. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking.
<
br /> Sander pulled the trigger. The shot gun kicked back and made an awful explosion. The junky screamed in pain and fell forward as his back was covered in pellets. The bag hit the ground and the pill bottles spilled out in a wave.
“You okay?” Sander walked toward me but kept the gun on the junky.
“I’m fine. I think I’m fine.” I scrambled to my feet and stared down at the guy as he writhed in pain. “Is he dead?”
“Nah. I used birdshot.”
“What? Birdshot?”
“Yeah, little pellets. They don’t kill him, but they hurt like hell.”
“Oh fuck you,” the junky moaned. “Oh my god. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. This hurts so much. You shot me you asshole. You fucking shot me.”
I kicked him as hard as I could in the ribs then began to collect the pills.
“Call Owain,” Sander said. “He needs to come clean this mess up. I’ll keep him covered. Use the phone up front.”
“Right.” I shoved the bottles into the bag and ran into the main part of the store. Sander’s bullet proof enclosure stood open and I stepped inside. The phone was under the counter, and I quickly dialed Owain’s number, surprised that I knew it by heart already.
He answered on the third ring. “The fuck do you want, Sander? Is Leigh okay?”
“It’s me. I’m okay.”
Brief pause. He must’ve been surprised. “Leigh. Why are you calling from Sander’s phone?”
“Some guy tried to rob me. But it’s fine, Sander shot him with birdshot and now he’s lying on the ground really angry. He’s not dead or whatever.”
“Are you okay?” Owain’s tone was darker, more insistent.
“I’m fine. Seriously, I’m fine.” I laughed a little, trying to make him understand that I was physically unharmed. “Sander says you need to come clean it up.”
“I’m on my way.” He hung up.
I stood there and stared down at the receiver. My hands shook and my heart raced so fast I thought I might vomit. I dropped down and hugged my knees, sitting on the floor, taking deep breaths to try and get myself under control.
I went insane back there. I must’ve lost my mind completely. That guy wasn’t very big or threatening, but he had a knife and he was desperate and he was still bigger than me. I don’t know what I was thinking, attacking him like that. If Sander hadn’t come back when he did, I would’ve been dead on the ground. There was no doubt in my mind that junky idiot would’ve stabbed me without thinking twice about it.
Maybe it was all this time around Owain. I was getting desensitized to violence, and that scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t a violent person and I wasn’t interested in hurting people. And yet when I had the chance to attack, I took it without hesitating, all to defend some pills and some money. I risked my life for money, and that wasn’t the kind of person I thought I was.
I hated it. God, I hated it.
But I couldn’t run from it, either.
Like it or not, I was in a violent business now. I was in the drug trade, and that necessarily came with certain facts.
That wasn’t the last asshole that would try and rob me. The thought sent a chill down my spine. It was going to happen again, and when it did I had to be ready for it. Otherwise, I’d end up dead.
Owain showed up about five minutes later. I heard his car screech to a halt outside and his door slam. He flew into the front door with his gun out, his eyes wide and his face red with anger and exertion. I stood up and stared at him, and tried to smile a little bit to take the edge off his rage.
“Where is he?”
“In the back.”
He looked away from me and stormed toward the door.
“Wait, Owain.” I left Sander’s cube and followed him. “Hold on. Sander’s got him covered. There’s no need—”
He kicked the door open and walked in to the back. Sander stood over the groaning junky with the shotgun inches from his head. He looked up and stepped back as Owain approached.
I stood in the doorway and watched as Owain kicked the guy once, twice, then rolled him over and knelt down in his face.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No,” the junky said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got shot. I need a doctor.”
Owain pressed his gun against the guy’s head. “You tried to steal from me. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean… I just wasn’t…”
“Worst of all, you robbed her. You picked the wrong place to fuck with.”
“Wait.” I stepped over, hands out. “Owain, don’t.”
He hesitated. I could tell he wanted to squeeze that trigger and kill the bastard, but he looked up at me with a strange, puzzled expression.
“Don’t kill him,” I said.
“Why not? Give me one reason.”
“Because I don’t want you to.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Owain, no.” I walked over to him and grabbed his arm. He growled at me like a rabid dog and bared his teeth, but he didn’t shake my off. I pulled at him and he stood and let me lead him a few feet away. The junky started crawling toward the door.
“Why would you want to spare that little shit?” he asked. “He’s a piece of trash. I can’t have people think they can try and steal from me without consequences.”
“Nobody thinks that. He’s noting and you’ll get blood all over the floor. Come on, you don’t have to—”
The junky reached the door. He staggered to his feet, leaned on the handle, and pulled it open. He fell out into the alley, his face slamming against the hard ground. He grunted in pain then crawled forward.
“Fuck this.” Owain marched out, closed the door behind him.
A loud bang rang through the afternoon.
Sander sighed and leaned his shotgun against his shoulder. “At least he did it outside.” He shook his head and walked back into the main room.
Owain came back a minute later. He stared at me as I crossed my arms and glared back.
“What?”
“I asked you not to do that.”
“Too bad. This is my business. I make the decisions.”
I clenched my jaw. “I fought back, you know. Jumped on him. Started hitting him.”
He tilted his head. “How’d that go for you?”
“Not great.”
“Yeah, well, don’t fight next time. Let them go. No need to get yourself hurt over this shit.”
“You don’t seem to get it. This is my money too now, and I’m not letting some idiot rip me off.”
A little smile cracked across his face. “Now you understand why I killed him.”
I didn’t back down. “I need to learn how to use a gun.”
“Really? You need to?”
“I have to defend myself. And our pills.”
“Come on. I can assign a guy to work with you. You don’t need—”
“Teach me to shoot, Owain. These idiots that come in here will never suspect it. They turn their backs on me and pretend like I’m just some stupid girl. If I had a gun, I could’ve ended that whole encounter sooner without anyone getting hurt.”
He laughed then, shaking his head. “You want a gun to avoid people getting hurt.”
“I want a gun to keep my money safe.”
“All right, little diamond.” His smile got bigger. “I’ll take you shooting. But once you got a gun, how do I know you’re not going to turn it on me.”
I smiled back, head tilted. I tugged at a long strand of hair.
“You’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?”
He sighed and slipped his gun back into his waistband.
“I guess so.” He turned back to the alley door. “I’ll send some guys to clean that up. You sit back and relax for now.”
“When do we go shooting?”
“Tomorrow. Early.”
I groaned. “How early?”
“Earlier than you like.
Want to complain?”
“Nope. Let’s do it.”
“Thought so.” He hesitated and looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression, but I thought there was a sense of pride in his eyes.
He laughed again and left, shaking his head.
I sat down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.
This was my life now. One second, I was bored and wishing something interesting would happen. And the next I was terrified for my life.
I couldn’t tell if I liked it or loved it.
17
Owain
I got her up at the crack of dawn, a half hour before the sun began to peek up over the horizon.
I didn’t need to do that. I could’ve let her sleep as late as she wanted. The shooting range we were going to was owned by another guy in the crew, a man named Brett Crofts. I shot him a message the night before letting him know that I was going to use his facility for a little training, and that meant I could head in whenever I damn well pleased.
But she didn’t need to know that.
She grumbled the whole way over. Big sweatshirt, tight black jeans, large brown boots, and a messy bun—she looked gorgeous, even though she complained the whole time about how early it was and how she didn’t have enough time to get ready. At least I was nice enough to stop in at the coffee shop around the corner right as they opened and got her favorite drink.
I was a gentleman, after all.
The range was on the outskirts of west Philly in a large, single-story building with a gun shop attached. I parked out front and led her to a side door with a pin pad outside. I entered the pin, the door buzzed open, and I let her inside.
The space was cavernous and completely abandoned.
“This is pretty cool.” She walked along the shooting stalls and looked out across the range where targets hung from ropes that could be pulled in and out. “Do you normally comes when it’s empty?”
“I know the owner.” I walked over to a large storage locker and got out two pairs of hearing protection. No need to fuck up our ears all day for this shit. I walked back over to her and steered her toward the center stall.
