Rise of the Titan

by Pressley James

  “Taking me in? You have to be kidding me, man,” he scoffed with an abrupt laugh and crossed both arms along his broad chest. Every muscle in his body tensed, from beneath the crisp white business shirt on down to the black trousers. “What do you take me for? Don’t let all this sexy fool you. Yes, it’s legit as hell, but it doesn’t show the type of man I really am.” Again, his cold smile was lethal in the darkness, and now his features were hardened like granite. “Don’t mistake me for a pushover---I don’t fold under the pressure. As a matter of fact, you’d be surprised with how scary-crazy I can get. So much so, that your big ass would have nightmares.”

  “Are we really going to do this---tonight of all nights?” Pinching his nose, the goon snorted two times before looking at him again. “No, bro, I’m not going back to Pops empty-handed. You’re coming with me.” Once more, he cracked his beefy knuckles to emphasize a warning. “Is it your ride that you’re worried about? Don’t sweat it---that little shiny toy of yours will be okay. I’ll send some of the boys to pick it up. Hell, they’ll give it a wash job and cleaning if that’s what you want. When they’re done, they’ll drop it off at your crib.” His exasperation was as plain as the living night. “Come on, Titan. Let’s make this easy. Just get in the damned truck---”

  Across the way, he tensed further. “Hell no.”

  His words were a trigger.

  The battle lines were drawn.

  A clash of wills…

  They both openly and visually challenged the other.

  While his gaze was unflinching and steady, his insides toiled with unrest.

  Would their tentative peaceful interactions finally bloom into an outright war outside the store?

  His hands burned and itched.

  The gun beneath his waistband felt like hot steel rather than cold.

  At any point, he could possibly be forced to use it.

  “Three words for you, Titan.” The goon’s gaze turned even glacier. “Don’t try me.”

  “No, you don’t fucking try me.” His eyes glazed over like hard steel. “If you do, I promise that you won’t like the outcome.”

  The cell phone shrilled just at the right moment.

  Just enough to slice through the exceedingly rising tension…

  As Akumu glanced at the caller ID, a panicked look lined his features. “Gotta take this---it’s Pops.” Frowning, he turned his back to him, and, it seemed that his huge body quaked slightly with fear. Whereas his tone had been forceful before, it was now meek and timid. “Sorry that I’m late checking in----” As the violent expletives exploded from the other end of the line, the goon held it away from his ear. When the tirade ended, he placed it against his ear again. “Yeah, Titan’s with me…our location? We’re at Ten-Point Miles, and yes, I’ve explained the importance of it to him. What---you wanna talk to him? Okay, Pops…” He extended the cell phone in his direction. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Scowling, he took the phone without saying a word. Then, stiffening further, he finally answered the call. “Vitali---”

  “Are you trying to make me look like fool? The entire Wolf Pack is here---Raoul, Santiago, Santos, Angelo, Mantini, and the rest of the boys,” Vitali blasted with a stinging rebuttal. “Damn it, don’t you owe me gratitude if nothing else? Granted, our relationship may not be the best. But, what’s your fucking problem?”

  “Problem?” he frowned purposely against the phone. Again, he couldn’t stifle the satisfaction at his ire. As crazy as it sounded, he was actually visualizing his murderous father. Probably, a Cuban cigar was clenched at the right side of his mouth, and his lips were parted just enough to release his poisonous words. Of course, he was dressed to the nines in his usual perfectly pressed Mafia-styled black suit. He forced his thoughts back to the conversation. “I don’t particularly have one, but it seems that you do.”

  “Do you realize how much money is on the line tonight? Of course you don’t! You’ve always been stupid! As dumb as that cunt mother of yours---”

  “Don’t call her that,” he interrupted with dead coldness. “Better yet, it’d be in your best interest to not even mention her. You don’t have the right.”

  “Alright, alright, alright. No need to get all uptight, mama’s boy. How remiss of me to forget how much you idolize her,” Vitali muttered quickly, though he was hardly apologetic. Then, he made a few more non-intelligible sounds before speaking again. “Let’s talk about what’s important, and we both know that it’s not her.”

  His frowned deepened.

  Well, he was wrong about that.

  His mother was the driving factor in everything that he was doing.

  “…after the shit that went down in New York City with the Ricci’s, I need to recuperate,” Vitali droned on in open misery. “Millions were lost in that deal, not to mention the outstanding loss of pure bred Columbian products! And now, Lucinda, that bitch of a daughter of his is running things…..that fucking sex-crazed ho thinks she’s a gangsta…well, I’ll show her ass…”

  He fought against the smug smile.

  Oh yeah, NYC…

  Actually, he did have a hand in it…

  He’d played the full deck…

  Months ago, the little black disk that’d bit a dent in his ass---

  Well, it’d been loaded with crucial information.

  Information that he’d frisked and downloaded while partying it up---

  The little microfiche contained secret transactions, business dealings, names, etc. After he’d conveniently and secretly sent it to the local feds, the microfiche had become instant hot commodity. Easily, it’d pinpointed the guilty parties and the whereabouts of illegal goods.

  The fact that he’d thwarted the big drug trade and caused the arrest of at least a dozen mafia kings---it was more than a highly satisfying feat. In some ways, wasn’t he making up for the hell that he’d been causing on earth in his thirty-something years?

  A part of him would like to think so.

  And he wasn’t done righting some of the world’s wrongs yet, he thought darkly, forcing himself to calm. If he didn’t continue to play the game right, he’d never nail his father’s murdering and nefarious ass to the ground either. And his estranged father had to pay for the crimes against him…

  In a flash, his raw tension ignited.

  Quickly, he was reminded of all that was at stake.

  So, playing nice was a necessity…

  “…when I find out whose responsible for that little shenanigan in NYC, they’re dead,” Vitali vented loudly. “I swear on my life, I’m going to tie a damn noose around their necks and string them from the highest beam in the warehouse. They’ll piss on themselves they’ll be begging so hard.” He gave an ugly laugh. “They’ll find out just what a cruel and vicious son-of-a-bitch I am…”

  Didn’t he already know that personally?

  Didn’t he have enough physical, mental, and emotional scars to show it?

  It was way past time to dress the wounds.

  “I’ll be there in half and hour,” he said abruptly. “We’ll finish the conversation there.”

  “Now, you’re using some damn sense. Later.”

  The phone went dead.

  For a second, he just stood there in silence.

  Overhead, the night sky beckoned, and he looked up.

  Like diamonds, the bright stars sparkled and lit the dark skies, filling them with an infinite beauty that couldn’t be defined. Down here, on earth, hardly any beauty or goodness resonated, he mulled quietly.

  At least not in his world…

  At least not inside of him…

  Suddenly, the very idea was troubling and depressing.

  “Phone, please,” Akumu muttered, stopping before him, and extended his beefy hand outward. Then, he passed him an inquisitive look. “You alright, player? Look like something’s heavy on your mind.”

  He passed the phone to the goon. “Don’t let it worry you.”

  “Easy, there. Just trying to p
lay nice.” Akumu looked at him long and hard. “Guess everything’s all good with Pops, then? Things are cool?”

  “Yep, it seems so.”

  With those words, he strode away.

  Minutes later, as the car raced down the highway, he faced the bitter truth.

  In this life, things never would be normal.

  ***

  The club was packed to capacity on the late Saturday night.

  She’d known that much as she’d drove past the front before veering around the rear of the building and parking in the only vacant spot in the employee section. Without a doubt, Sinful Shade was one of the most popular nightspots in town.

  Yes, it was past sinful.

  It was a downright, dirty shame to all the lost souls that frequented it.

  Whenever she waltzed through its doors and entered the dazzling, startling world of nightlife, would she ever lose the nasty taste in her mouth or dispel the nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach?

  Apparently not, she mulled, staring at her reflection in the mirror, and dusted the coral-hue rouge on her high cheekbones. Without a doubt, she fit the part of a sultry seductive dancer well. A palette of pleasing colors accentuated her brown skin tone, leading to a perfectly made face. Her thick black hair was piled on top of her head, and finally the soft tendrils of curls fell alongside her face.

  Yet, as outwardly composed as she was, a sick feeling of dread still overwhelmed her. Yes, she was a highly trained operative in every sense of the word. Like she’d done countless times before, she’d strip down to nothing before a room of strangers. Of course, her actions and behaviors were due to the covert operation.

  But, within the dark hours of the solitude, when her conscience was the only thing that breathed inside of it, she had to face herself.

  The real woman inside…

  The very one that hated every aspect of what she was doing…

  Since meeting with Rowell, a week ago, she’d been trying to mentally prepare herself for the challenges that lay ahead. Yet, now, sitting here, she pondered if she was ready to face the notorious criminal again and become involved in his sordid world. For wasn’t a part of her too mentally and emotionally scarred to do so?

  She met her gaze in the smoky mirror.

  But, all of this…it was for sweet Gage…

  And she wouldn’t rest until Vitali paid for what he’d done.

  In quick furious strokes, she brushed the bristles along her left cheek, and with each one, her determination grew. The murderous bastard would regret---

  She nearly started when Monique stopped behind her.

  “I’m still pinching myself. I can’t believe that you’re really here!” Monique squealed in delight and stooped over to hug her. Then, smiling, she straightened and tugged on the too snug dress. The light green emerald color meshed perfectly with her brown skin and honey blond hair. Sighing softly, she plopped down in the empty swiveled chair beside her. “Oh, Bella, it’s crazy how much I’ve missed you.”

  Her smile was genuine. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  “Maybe we can have lunch or hang out next weekend. You know, just to catch up.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  “Well, it’d been great if you’d have contacted me more than a few times in the last year and a half,” Monique accused with a slight scowl, and then, her face softened with understanding. Her dark brown eyes bowled over with kindness. “But, considering everything that happened during that time, I’m willing to forgive.”

  She looked away from her uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Monique---”

  “No, don’t you dare apologize.” Monique reached over and patted her hand in reassurance. “With what happened with Gage and everything----” At the sight of her crestfallen expression, she cut the words short. “I’m not judging you, and I’m not mad. You needed both the time and space to grieve.”

  But, had she really?

  She forced back the one bit of reality.

  It had no place here.

  “Thank you for understanding.” She took a steadying breath. “Enough about that. How have things been with you?”

  “Same old bullshit---nothing really,” Monique gave a disgusted sound. “Dancing and selling my soul like everyone else in this hell hole.” She batted the fake eyelashes before winking. Still, though, a wounded expression filled her features. “But, it’s a lifestyle that I’m obviously born to live in.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she said truthfully and turned towards her fully. “There’s a future outside of this place for you if you really want it.”

  “Why can’t I have your level of optimism?” Monique probed and eyed her close. “Maybe if I did, I’d have made something of myself by now.”

  She lifted a perfectly arched brow. “And who says that you can’t now? What’s stopping you? You’ve got to have faith in yourself.”

  “Would you stop trying to put these crazy ideas in my head?” Monique groaned out loud. “Street life has been my sole existence and there’s no changing it now.”

  “Get ready for the crazy ideas, sister because I’m not about to let up.” She looked around the crowded dressing room before meeting her eyes again. “What about this hellhole? How are things?” she hedged carefully. “Still wild, crazy, and unpredictable?”

  “Guess you can say that,” Monique said dryly with a bored expression. “Larry’s still an asshole, to no surprise. As usual, he favors the newer dancers and gives them the best gigs.” She shrugged. “Guess I can’t complain. My paycheck is better than good, and I’m finally getting some things that I deserve.” A proud look spread along her attractive features. “Remember that little house on Crenshaw Drive that Beau and me wanted?” At her nod, she continued. “Well, we’re finally homeowners.”

  Reaching over, she hugged her fast. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for y’all.”

  “I’ve bared my ass enough to deserve something, and Beau’s put up with a helluva enough from me. In a sense, we’re finally getting ours.” She shook her head, and her unease came in a flash. “Back to the conversation at hand---this place and the one person that no one ever wants to mention---Pops. He makes his presence known. But, not like usual---not since you left.”

  She withheld the violent shudder.

  Just the mention of him was sickening enough.

  She gave a strained smile. “I’m not surprised by that.”

  “You’re not planning on hooking up with him again, are you?” Monique asked point blank and frowned hard. “Yes, he’s powerful, insanely rich, and incredibly handsome for a man of his age. But, the guy’s bad news.” A look of disgust covered her features. “We both know what he’s capable of.”

  “Of course, I do. But, Carlo and I---as crazy as it sounds---we understood one another.” She forced the further lie out. “There were feelings there.”

  Yeah, like pure bred animosity…

  Hatred that burned the soul until it festered like a sore…

  “Whatever you felt for Vitali, it wasn’t love. Hell, he’s unlovable,” Monique explained, placing a careful hand on her arm. “Promise me that you won’t get involved with him again. Don’t ask me why. But, he seems to be more monstrous and cruel than before.” She cast a furtive glance around the noisy and busy dressing area before leaning closer. Now, her words were a low whisper. “They found another dead body in the back alley behind the club. Whoever it was, they’d been decapitated, and their guts were spilling everywhere. Everyone’s saying that Vitali’s responsible…”

  As Monique droned on, she didn’t even blink.

  Just days ago, she’d learned every horrible detail about the killing.

  It’d been a cruel and horrid one.

  All at the hands of Vitali…

  The whole world knew that he was a murderer.

  That he was the vilest of the vile…

  But, shouldn’t she begin sowing the seeds of deception again, even if it was with her dearest friend? I
f she and the feds were going to bring Vitali down, she had to play her part well. The guilt surged through her ten-fold. Just when would honesty come into play with the ones that she cared for most? Still, she forced herself to look at her as she forked out the horrid lie. “Yes, I know that he’s done some horrible things, but there’s no proof that he’s responsible---”

  “Hello, I am talking to Bella, right?” Monique interrupted with disbelief, and a shocked expression covered her features. “Everyone, including you, knows what kind of man he is!”

  Swallowing hard, she purposely gave a timid look, all in form to drive her deception further home. Somehow, she managed to muster a fake teary expression. Deep down, though, her treachery cut her to the core, especially since she was running a game on her best friend. “After everything that’s happened, maybe he’s what I need---”

  “What you need?” Monique’s stunned expression worsened. “Vitali is someone that you’ll never need. Girl, that bastard’s a monster, and you know that better than anyone. So, spare me this ridiculous nonsense about you needing him. If he knew that you were back, he’d be crawling all over this place. Maybe he’ll be so involved with things that he’ll never learn that you’ve returned.” Her scowl deepened. “And one more thing, there’s going to be a shift in power here soon. Word is Vitali’s spawn has been hanging around as of late, and that he’s being groomed to take over.” Her expression took on a conspiratorial look. “Some of the girls said that he’s fine as all hell…”

  There was no doubt about that, she mulled, distracted.

  Braden “Titan” Jameson was a looker.

  But, his ugliness within marred any outer attractiveness.

  Her irritation mounted.

  And Junior had been MIA this week, to all misfortune.

  The plan was for her to get close to him.

  But, how could she even set the plan in motion, she mulled, outlining her full lips with the red lipstick. Especially, since she’d learned from the other informant that he wasn’t showing for tonight’s big meeting…