by B. B. Hamel
“It’d better, otherwise I made a real stupid mistake.”
He crossed his arms and watched me carefully. “Can I offer you come advice?”
“If you have to.”
“This isn’t a hard game to play. That’s not to say you’re not capable of it, but you’d better make damn sure it’s something you want.”
I gave him an angry stare. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m not worried one bit. Fascinated, more like, but not worried. There aren’t a whole lot of nice, quiet civilians like you that get pulled into this world and find that they like it.”
“I’m the exception I guess.”
He shrugged and gestured behind him. Two men I didn’t recognize came walking out from the darkness, each of them carrying a heavy duffel bag. They dropped them down on the ground in front of me.
“Filled with rocks,” he said. “But it’ll look convincing at least.”
“That’s fine. Our crates are filled with plastic bottles.”
He sighed. “I guess I’ll recycle them.”
“Burn them for all I care.” I grabbed one of the bags and lugged it over to the van. I made a show of opening the passenger door and throwing it in as Dante’s two guys walked out after me. I opened the back for them and they pulled out the crates—ignoring Owain as he squeezed himself down into a corner where the shadows were deepest.
I glanced down the street and tried to spot anyone watching, but if the Jackals were out there, they were being smart. I went back in, grabbed the second back, and tossed it onto the first one. I watched Dante’s men finish bringing in the crates then shut the back.
Dante came out and stood on the sidewalk. He smiled at me, head tilted.
“Tell Owain he owes me one.”
“I’ll make sure to pass it along.”
“Good luck. I really hope you survive this. I have to admit, you seem very interesting, and it’d be a shame if you ended up as just another blood stain on these streets.”
“Trust me, I don’t intend on losing.”
He laughed and waved then headed back inside. The garage door rolled down and once it hit the ground, I put the padlock back on and snapped it into place. I walked back to the van, climbed inside, and started the engine. As I bent down to put on my seatbelt, I spoke again.
“Doing okay back there?”
“Fine and dandy. Pissed in a bottle all day. How are you feeling?”
“Nervous. I don’t see them.”
“They’ll come. Get moving.”
I sat up and started driving. I went slow through side streets, edging my way south toward where I was scheduled to drop the fake bags of money.
Except I had nowhere to go.
For the last week, Owain’s guys had been spreading the rumor that we were selling all our pills in bulk to the Leone family. They tried to be as subtle as they could, although I had a feeling some of them were a little more heavy-handed than others, but still, the idea was that the Jackals would hear and come after us. They’d see me alone in the car and think—easy target, easy money. They won’t be able to help themselves.
But as I drove through the quiet Philly streets, I didn’t see any motorcycles or hear their engines. Nobody followed, nobody got in my way. I was terrified they wouldn’t attack, which would mean we went through all this trouble for absolutely nothing, and I’d have to come up with some other idea to save face. On top of that, we got the Leones to agree to help out, which meant Owain cashed in a favor. I hated to imagine that his favor would come to nothing and we’d end up with only a couple bags of rocks to show for it.
I turned onto Shunk Street deep in the south and rolled past a strip mall parking lot. Houses appeared on either side with lots of green and pretty comfortable-looking brick front porches. It was one of the nicer parts of the city I’d seen, and I took a second to slow down and gape at the park that appeared up ahead. It was a gorgeous well-manicure green space with concrete walkways and bright street lamps and a historic-looking house set out in the middle of the park. I wondered what the hell that house was doing out there—
When a truck pulled out in front of me.
I had to slam on the brakes. I was about to lay on the horn when the doors opened on either side of the cab and two guys stepped out wearing jean jackets and denim pants.
“Owain,” I said.
“It’s them.”
“It’s definitely them and they’re coming for me.”
“Stay calm. Don’t move. Do what they ask.”
“Owain—” I sucked in a breath as I recognized the man on the left. It was Clifton with a big smile on his face as he approached my window, his gun held loosely in his hand. The other guy had a pig-like nose and a bushy mustache, and lingered on the passenger side, trying to see into the back of the van, but it must’ve been too dark.
“Window,” Clifton shouted. “Window down.”
I rolled it down and stared as he pressed the gun against my face.
“Bags.”
I nodded. “I’ll do it slow.”
“Get the fucking bags, girl.” He stared at me, eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t have done this alone. What the hell was Owain thinking, sending you?”
I reached over and grabbed one of the duffel bags. It was heavy as hell and I hefted it up, trying not to show how much I had to strain. Clifton frowned as I flung it at him, using all my core strength to throw it out the window. He was caught completely off guard and the rocks smashed into his chest, knocking him back a few feet. He let out a surprised and painted grunt as I took off my seatbelt and dove over the seat. When I landed face-first, the back door swung open, and Piggy stared in at me.
Owain unloaded on him. He staggered back, shock in his eyes as red bloomed in his chest. My hands shook like crazy as Owain moved forward, looking haggard and tired, but kicked Piggy to the ground as he leapt out of the back and landed in the street. He turned toward where Clifton was—but a second car came screeching up behind us. Owain fell back, turning around to the other side of the van, and opened fire on the Jackals that spilled out from the car. I counted three of them and threw myself back over the front seat, ladning on the passenger side floor. Bullets whizzed around, slamming into the car, pinging off the street, and smashing into houses all around us.
I reached up and released the glove compartment. My little gun fell out and I managed to grab it and pick it up. I heard Owain shout something as he returned fire, but we were outnumbered by a lot and he was pinned down. I had to do something before the Jackals overwhelmed us completely.
I crawled across the front seat and pushed open the driver side door. I managed to get out, face-first, catching myself on the pavement. I stayed down as the deafening gunfire continued, then looked up—and saw Clifton standing a few feet away, his back to me. He peered around the side of the van, clearly looking for Owain, and hadn’t heard me get out over all the gunshots. I got up and walked toward him at a crouch, trying to stay calm.
He turned at the last second, but by then it was too late. I pressed my gun against his head and his eyes went wide. His barrel pointed down at my stomach, and for one agoninzing second, I thought he might take the shot even though it would mean his life. I might survive, or I might not, but he’d go down either way. He must’ve done that math and held his fire.
“Drop the gun,” I said, shouting so he could hear me.
He released his weapon. It clattered to the ground. I kicked it under the van and grabbed his arm, pressing my gun tighter against his head.
“Walk toward your guys.”
He cursed but I shoved him. He moved, taking small steps like he wanted to delay as long as possible. One of his men spotted us, and the look on his face was incredible—pure shock mixed with rage and disgust. He held up his hands and shouted something, and the gunfire came to an abrupt halt as Clifton’s guys stared at me with my gun pressed against their leader’s head.
“Drop them,” I said, probably yelling, but I
couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears.
One by one, they put down their weapons.
Owain appeared around the van, his eyes wide with surprise and delight. He waked up to Clifton, punched him in the face, then yanked him away from me and kept his own gun trained on Clifton’s neck. He looekd back and grinned, gave me a wink, and nodded his head at the van.
I understood what he meant. I got inside and waited for Owain and crawl into the back with Clifton in tow. Once they were inside and the doors slammed shut, I drove the van up onto the sidewalk, got around the truck blocking our way, then sped off as fast as I could.
“Holy shit,” I said. “Holy shit holy shit.”
Owain laughed, loud and deep and hard. I met his eye in the rearview mirror as he continued to hold his gun pressed against Clifton. I couldn’t help but grin as I drove, my hands shaking, my gun on the passenger side seat next to me. I got as far away as I could without making the van an obvious target for cops waiting around the neighborhood. I wanted to scream or throw up or both, and Owain’s laughter only made my already frayed nerves dance around wildly.
“Plug up your ears, little diamond. I’m going to kill this mother fucker and be done with it.”
“Wait,” I said.
Owain grunted in surprise as I pulled the van over and turned to face him. Clifton cowered away and kept his arms over his head like that would stop a bullet.
“Why would I wait? I can end him here and toss his body out in the street. We’ll be home in twenty minutes.
“He’s too useful to kill.”
Owain shook his head, eyes wide and mystified. “Useful? This bastard’s been fucking with us for all this time and now you want to save him?”
“Listen to her, Owain, I can—”
Owain smashed his gun into Clifton’s face. He grunted, spit blood, and groaned as he curled up on the floor of the van.
“He has men and resources. We can use him still.” I stared at Owain and narrowed my eyes. “You know I’m right but you’re still holding some childish grudge against him.”
“I know he’s dangerous, and I don’t keep dangerous things alive for long.”
“Bring him to Hedeon. We’ll discuss it, and if Hedeon wants to kill him, then I’ll do it myself.”
Owain smirked and shook his head. “Not a chance. Clifton’s my kill, one way or another.” He turned and looked at his former friend lying on the ground, curled up in a ball, half-weeping and half groaning with pain. “But fine, you want to bring this to Hedeon, then we will. You can deal with it.”
“Good.” I put the van back into gear and drove slowly back to Owain’s. “We’ll lock him in the basement. In the morning, we’ll figure out what to do with him.”
Owain grunted and kicked at Clifton. “Hear that? You’re lucky she’s here. If it were up to me, you’d be dead right now and I’d never have to think about your pathetic little fucking face again.”
Clifton groaned but said nothing.
I smiled as I drove back to Owain’s. The plan had gone off better than I could’ve imagined. Capturing Clifton alive was a huge boon for us, and I knew we could turn it into a good deal—if only Owain could get over his stupid, petty rivalry.
I parked the van out front of Owain’s house and helped him get Clifton inside. Owain dragged him down the steps and tied him up to a chair nice and tight then leaned down and stared into Clifton’s terrified eyes.
“If you try and run, I’ll kill you. Understood?”
Clifton nodded.
Owain took my hand and lead me back upstairs. We stood in the kitchen and I pressed myself against his chest. He hugged me tight, kissed my hair, and breathed me in. I loved the way he did that, like my smell was his most favorite thing in the world, like the smell of an old book.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“I’m sure. You trust me, right?”
“I trust you.”
“Good.” I tilted my chin toward him and we kissed, slow and soft. When he pulled back, I squeezed his hand. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll take the van back.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I turned and left Owain standing in the kitchen, a huge smile on my face.
I was a part of this now, deep in the crew whether I liked it or not, and if I was going to be a member of a criminal organization then I was going to do my damn best to make it stronger.
When this was all over, we’d come through better than ever.
25
Owain
I kicked Clifton in the back of the knee and send him sprawling down onto the floor. He grunted as his face hit Hedeon’s hardwood floor. The television played a football game and Hedeon stood a few feet away toward his kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest. Leigh lingered behind me, looking lost and awkward. Clifton rolled onto his side and groaned as I kicked him in the ribs twice for good measure.
I wish I could put a bullet in his head, but Hedeon stared down at Clifton like he was a prize cow at the county fair.
“You did good,” he said. “It was smart, keeping him alive.”
“It was Leigh’s idea.” I looked at her and nodded. “I wish I could take credit.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” she said.
“I don’t care whose idea it was. I’m just glad he won’t be a problem anymore.”
“Before you talk about killing him, I actually have an idea.” Leigh stepped forward, her hands held up.
Hedeon tilted his head and nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Clifton actually gave me the idea—him or one of his guys. See, the problem with our sales model is, we wait for our customers to come to us. But this is the modern world, and people want their shit delivered.”
Hedeon snorted. “You want to do home delivery for fucking drugs?”
“That’s the idea. The Jackals are already doing it. They have the infrastructure and the knowledge built up, all we need to do is take them over and get them to work for us.” Leigh looked at Clifton and gestured. “Now we have that chance.”
I stared at her and burst out laughing. It was the most absurd, most brazen, most insane—and most brilliant plan I’ve ever heard in my life. No wonder she wanted to keep Clifton alive. I let my laughter spill out as I turned and pulled her into a big hug, lifting her up off her feet. Even Hedeon smiled at that as my effusive laughter became contagious. She struggled in my arms but I held her tight, hugging her and laughing, before I finally got control of myself and put her back down. She grinned at me and fixed her hair.
“I take it you approve.”
“Approve? That fucking brilliant. That’s the best use of this little piece of shit imaginable.”
“One problem though,” Hedeon said. “How do we know we can trust hm.”
I turned to Clifton and walked over. He stared up at me with real fear in his eyes—but something else as well.
Clifton wasn’t a stupid man. He’d always been motivated by profit about all else, and now he saw a chance to save his own skin and make a lot of money in the process. It was a tempting proposition, and I already knew he’d fall for it.
“What do you say, old friend? Think you can reassure my boss here?”
He struggled to his feet. His eyes were blacked out and his lips were both swollen and torn. His clothes were stained with blood and rumpled, and his hands were tied behind his back, but he managed to kneel in front of Hedeon with some semblance of dignity.
“I’ll work for you,” he said, “so long as you give my guys a twenty percent cut.”
Hedeon barked a laugh. “Why the fuck would I do that? Your life’s in the balance here.”
“They won’t work for free. Give them a decent cut and promise you’ll pay more if they do a good job. Offer them incentives.”
“He’s right,” Leigh said. “Clifton here might agree to this based on the threat of violence, but his guys never will. You have to make it worth their time.”
&nbs
p; Hedeon grunted and nodded. “All right. Twenty percent of the cut, spread out among your guys however you see fit. I’ll pay more if they prove to be useful.”
Clifton bowed his head. “They’ll be worth it. I promise.”
“But you have to swear one thing.” Hedeon walked over to Clifton and grabbed him by the hair. He leaned forward and stared into Clifton’s eyes, their faces inches apart, so close that Clifton could’ve spit in Hedeon’s mouth. “If you betray me, if you even consider hurting anyone in my crew, I will burn you to the ground. It won’t be Owain coming after you, but every single man I have available. It’ll be a personal affront, and I promise, I’ll crush you.”
“I won’t betray you. My men won’t either. We’re not stupid, we know how to make money.”
“Good.” Hedeon released him and clapped his hands. “Let’s untie our guest and have some tea, okay?”
I laughed again then pulled out a knife from my belt and cut Clifton’s bonds. The rope fell away and Clifton rubbed his wrists, staring daggers up at me—until his expression softened.
“We never should’ve fought,” he said, his voice soft. “Even if I had managed to win, it wouldn’t have been worth it.”
I smiled and shoved the knife back into my belt. “No need to fight anymore. Now we’re partners.” I extended a hand and Clifton took it, getting to his feet.
I still hated the rat fuck and I always would, but I was a pragmatic man. I knew that keeping him around would be profitable, and I wanted money above all else. I had my Leigh and now I had a future empire.
Hedeon lead everyone into the kitchen, made some tea, and we sat around the table drinking and discussing specifics of the upcoming arrangement. Leigh mostly listened as we hammered out the details. Part of me wondered if I’d snap at some point and murder Clifton, even though we had a deal—but I doubted it would happen.
I’m not sure it mattered though.
When we finished, Clifton left on his own and promised he’d bring the men to a meeting the following week. I followed Leigh out, but instead of getting into the car, I took her hand and we walked down the block together toward a field on the other side of Nineteenth. I stood at the corner and looked out at a group of kids practicing baseball on the diamond before turning to her.
