by E. M. Moore
“Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t touch me at all.” I tug my hand through my hair, pulling at the roots. “He was just furious over Oscar.”
Magnum swallows. His prominent Adam’s apple gets lost in his copper scruff but then drops down again. “I don’t know how long you’re going to be able to keep this up,” he says. I slice him a look, and he continues. “I know you care for all of them, so what are you going to do?”
I shrug. It’s not as if this question hasn’t plagued me, and I’m still one hundred percent riding on the hope that I can mold Johnny into a better person. Maybe even open him up to the idea of having others he can count on. Brawler and Oscar are good people, and they would be so good for Johnny. I can’t like them all for nothing, right? What if it could be just us? All of us, there for each other?
I know we aren’t used to getting everything we want—or at all—but this is one dream I’m going to hold close to my heart.
“I don’t really have a plan,” I admit, casting a wary gaze at Magnum.
“I just don’t want to see any of you get hurt, and in my experience, that’s where this is headed. All of you are heading down a one-way street that ends badly.”
I shrug again. “This may seem like the most selfish thing to say, but I’m not giving any of them up right now. Hopefully, ever. My heart can’t take more loss.”
Magnum’s gaze cuts to me, and for some reason, it slices right down to the bone this time. “You deserve to have everything, and anyone, you want.”
My emotions stir. My body remembers the way he massaged me yesterday. The moments we’ve had getting to know one another. It’s easy to try to shut that shit down, but I can’t help the way Magnum looks at me, as if he might feel the same way too. Maybe there’s a reason he’s asking all these questions.
“Magnum.” I take a step toward him.
He takes a step back. “You need to focus on you right now.” He licks his lips, gaze dropping to take me in. “I have a feeling this dinner won’t be pleasant.”
“Fuck the dinner.”
He shakes his head. “Not this one.” He breathes out, watching my every move to make sure I don’t get close again, as if he wouldn’t be able to stop himself if I did. “I just needed to make sure you were okay. I’ll come get you in an hour to take you up to the dinner.”
He retreats, and when I say retreat, I mean it. He turns around and strides from the room without giving me a second glance. My heart is in my throat.
Fuck me. There’s something in the water in the Heights. Or I’m just attracted to people who are just as fucked up as I am.
32
When Magnum comes back to get me, I’m perfectly put together. Because this has been hailed as a business meeting, I have a very reserved, knee-length dark blue dress on with my hair in waves down my back. My makeup is muted and tasteful, but with hopefully a hint of ‘take me fucking seriously’. I was even able to cover the scratches up on my forehead. I don’t know what’s going to go down. The meeting isn’t what it was going to be originally with all the big businessmen in the Crew getting together with their wives, but I’m steeling myself for anything.
“I’ll be by your side the whole time,” Magnum says when we’re in the elevator.
I turn toward him. There’s just something about the way he’s said that that reminds me of the shootout. “If you’re holding something back from me—.”
He shakes his head quickly. “No. For fuck’s sake, no. I’m just telling you I’m there.”
I eye him, but he seems sincere. If something big goes down that I wasn’t let in on again, I’m going to really make them pay this time.
The elevator dings, and I step outside. There’s a gentleman in the doorway of Big Daddy K’s suite who’s looking inside but turns when he hears the elevator. He’s the same age as Johnny, or at least he looks to be.
I stand in front of the two guards, spreading my legs and holding my arms out as they check me quickly before moving me forward. I walk toward the door, but the man doesn’t budge. He has dark brown hair with red tints. A dazzling smile that looks as if he’s gotten it bleached within the last couple of days. “You must be Johnny’s girl. I’ve heard so much about you.” He reaches for my hand to pull it to his lips, but I yank it back. He chuckles loudly and calls back into the suite. “Your girl has spunk.”
Johnny arrives, edging his way around the guy who’s blocking the entrance. I eye the guy warily as Johnny holds me to him. “There you are, babe. I see you’ve met Jiko.”
“Not really,” he muses. “She pulled her hand from mine.”
Johnny laughs, throwing his head back in a carefree way. I can tell he and this Jiko guy are somewhat close. “Can’t say that I blame her.” He throws his arm around me, and Jiko, whoever the fuck he is, moves out of our way as we walk into the room.
The elongated glass table that’s always been tucked into the corner takes a more prominent place in the room today. Plates are already set around it along with a handful of guests already sitting at different places. Big Daddy K has his back to me, but my hackles immediately go up. Johnny looks at me, and I wonder if he felt me stiffen. He rubs up and down my back, trying to calm me. “It’s going to be okay.”
I look over to him, hoping he’ll open up even more than that, but he doesn’t.
A few more men arrive. Everyone seems to be congregating around the table. Jiko and Johnny talk while I’m huddled into his side. I should be listening to what they’re saying, but I peek at Magnum instead. I already know before I look at him that he’s staring at me. He has been since we came into the room. Doing his job, as usual. While we watch one another, someone else moves into the room. Magnum’s gaze flicks over to the newcomer which is why I look, too.
I stiffen. Oscar limps inside. My heart tries to catapult from my chest. He’s in better shape than yesterday because there’s no blood dripping from anywhere, but his right eye is shut entirely. Nasty purple bruising mars his face, and he has his hand still wrapped protectively around his midsection. He gives me a small smile, like it doesn’t bother him in the least to be back here after getting his ass beat.
Johnny notices my attention has wavered and looks over his shoulder. If he’s sorry for doing that to Oscar, he doesn’t show it. He calls him over. Jiko looks him up and down, a smirk coming to his face that I want to punch right the fuck off. “Damn, brother. What happened to you?”
“You know,” Oscar says, joking his way through this like he’s joked his way through everything. “It’s the life I chose.”
He’s being cagey for a reason, making me wonder if Johnny’s even confessed to kicking Oscar’s ass. Not that he’d get in trouble for it. His father would probably praise him.
Because I don’t want Johnny to get suspicious, I don’t acknowledge Oscar at all, and he does the same to me. For now, we’re just casual and indifferent acquaintances. Which sucks because I really want to wrap him up in a hug, tell him how sorry I am for dragging him into this mess. He would tell me he was in this shit before I even got here, but still. He wouldn’t have gotten beaten up if it weren’t for me. He can’t try to talk his way out of that one.
Oscar was the last guest we were waiting for, so Big Daddy K calls everyone to the table. Help emerges from rooms in the back, carrying trays of steaming food. My stomach growls. I’ve been too nervous to eat, and it’s catching up to me now.
“Sounds like your girl has an appetite,” Jiko says. He’s sitting across from Johnny and me.
Asshole. Doesn’t he know it’s impolite to comment on how much a girl eats? “His girl has a name,” I bite out.
Jiko’s lips curve into a cool smirk. “I assumed she did, but she wouldn’t let me introduce myself properly before.”
“You don’t have to touch people to be introduced to them.”
Johnny smirks. He places his hand on my thigh and squeezes. I don’t know if he dislikes this guy or likes this guy, but either way, he’s taking pleasure
in watching me eviscerate him.
“Touché,” Jiko says. “I’m Jiko Cardinale. And you are?” I arch a brow at him, and he bursts out laughing. “I see why you like her so much.”
Johnny kisses my temple. “He’s a friend, babe. You can trust him.”
I’m not sure I take much stock into who Johnny thinks we can trust, but for now, I’ll play along. “Kyla Samson.”
“Johnny tells me you’re a fighter.”
“Our best one,” Big Daddy K says.
A pool of dread fills my stomach. I didn’t even know he’d been listening. Even though the server is now placing a bowl of hot soup in front of me and I was hungry just a moment ago, his voice did something to my appetite.
“Kyla’s single-handedly making money hand over fist with our fighting ring. They can’t get enough of her.”
I smile politely, then widen it when I meet Big Daddy K’s gaze for the first time. I have a part to play. When he’s around, it’s that much clearer why I’m here. Play the part. Get this done. Leave.
“As always, I’m so fortunate for the opportunity,” I say, pretending to be flattered by him.
Johnny squeezes my thigh again. The smile on his face is so genuine that it almost kills me he doesn’t understand that I’m saying it because I have to. Like anyone, he wants his significant other and his parent to get along, but that will never happen. Never, never, never. Over my goddamn dead body.
Or better yet. Over K’s.
Other men in the room open up, talking about the underground fighting business. Big Daddy K reveals they’ve purchased a bigger arena for us. I don’t know how they expect to keep this from the cops now, but they have their ways. If you can get away with murder, no doubt you can get away with gambling and fighting. Those businesses are definitely the lesser of the evils Big Daddy K displays on a daily basis.
The topic moves on. I find out that Jiko and his father are both in the room. They’re the reason why Johnny and his father went to Chicago for the last few days. They call whatever happened “the trouble” but don’t elaborate on it further.
While I’m looking around, trying to pick up on anything, I glance down the table at an empty chair pulled up to a fresh place setting. I frown at it. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Big Daddy K would miss. No one brings it up, but the thought nags at me all through dinner and dessert. I manage to get more than a few mouthfuls down, which is good because at the end of dinner, everyone is brought out a glass of whiskey.
Big Daddy K gets to his feet. My heart kicks up, but I tell myself this is probably what happens at every meal. I have no idea because I’ve never been to one before, but it sounds like something a gang boss would do. Get up and say a few words just for the pleasure of hearing himself talk.
“Initially,” he begins. “I wanted to hold this meeting to solidify our relationship with our Chicago friends and share my intent of moving my son up the ranks, however, a new reason has emerged that I want to toast to today.” Big Daddy K swings his gaze toward me.
I gulp. What the fuck? He’s smiling, but to me, his smile isn’t happy at all. The lilt of his lips pulls at my nerves.
“I’d like to officially announce my son’s plans to bring Kyla Samson into the Marx and Heights Crew family.”
Johnny turns toward me. It’s obvious he knew about this. He’s beaming, and his steady hand on my thigh tells me he’s so proud in this moment. It’s hard not to let a little of that show through because the feelings I have for Johnny are genuine. As genuine as any feelings I’ve ever had. He cups my face, bringing me forward to press a chaste kiss to my lips. I close my eyes, savoring it.
Then I remember Oscar’s in the room, and my cheeks blaze.
“I think she endeared herself pretty quickly to my son,” he jokes, and the rest of the table laughs.
“It was her right hook,” Johnny says, joining in on the joke.
“No, uppercut,” Oscar says.
I swallow, turning toward his voice. Everyone in the room is laughing at the light-hearted banter, and according to Oscar’s face, you’d think the same too, but I see the determination underneath. The hurt that’s probably ripping him at the seams right now. The guy who just kicked his ass last night is now kissing his girl. But let’s be clear, I think I can say with resounding authority now that women are not any guy’s property. I’m my own person, and I decide who gets to have me and in what ways. I get the look in Oscar’s gaze though. Betrayal.
“I couldn’t be happier to have my son find someone he connects with who also cares just as much about the Crew as he does.” He snaps his fingers. “Trey.”
The guard who got in trouble because of me leaves the room. My stomach twists, but Johnny leans into me. “This is a good thing.”
There’s a glint in every man’s eye around the room, which only heightens my fears.
Out from a side door, Trey pushes Dunnegan into the room.
I squelch the gasp that threatens to burst from my lips. If I thought Oscar was worse for wear, I was wrong. Dunnegan’s lip is split. He can barely open either eye, and there isn’t a spot on his face that isn’t marred by a bruise. His shirt is caked in dried blood, like they only managed to wipe his face off before bringing him in here.
“Sit,” K orders.
The seat I knew was there for a reason is dragged out and Dunnegan is forced down into it. His hands are bound at his front, but it doesn’t look like he has much fight in him, anyway.
Big Daddy K beams. “For those of you who don’t know, this is Joe Dunnegan. He runs my strip club-slash-nightclub. Yesterday, our dear Kyla was there and came back to alert us about something she found.”
The men in the room glance at me like I’m on their side. My stomach wants to expel. The delight in their eyes coats my stomach in acid.
“I have to be honest,” K says, moving around the room to stand behind Dunnegan. “When I first heard her version of events, I immediately dismissed them, but Johnny was right in sticking up for his chosen. Turns out, we have a no-good, degenerate thief in our mix.” Big Daddy throws Dunnegan’s head forward. The strip club owner doesn’t have enough strength to stop himself, so his head crashes against the table in front of him. The plate and silverware settings shake, and Dunnegan emits a low moan.
I chance a glance at Oscar, but he’s not looking at me right now. His eyes are glued in Dunnegan’s direction. Big Daddy K said thief. He must’ve been skimming money away from the Crew.
“I don’t want to turn your stomach with the particulars,” Big Daddy K says, “But suffice it to say that the Heights Crew will not fucking allow anyone to steal our money or threaten the innocent in the Heights. Is that clear?”
Everyone around the room audibly gives a positive response to that. I get why Big Daddy K does everything with witnesses now. It’s a way of pissing on his territory. These guys will tell others what happened here, and then everyone will be so fucking scared of the Crew that they won’t dare cross them.
“It wasn’t me,” Dunnegan finally gurgles out. His voice seems to wake him up that much more. “I told you I had nothing to do with it. I would never do that to you. It was Gregory.”
“And as soon as I can find Gregory, he’s as dead as you.”
Dunnegan looks up to meet my gaze. I try to be strong, stay here and look at him like I’m glad I sentenced this guy to death, but I also know what death can do to people. Dunnegan shared with me that he has a wife. What if it was just Gregory? Gregory was the one we saw in the room with Oscar’s mom.
“What did I tell you earlier?” Big Daddy K asks.
The guy breathes in and coughs. Blood spittle dots the plates in front of him. “You told me there are no second chances.”
“And?” Big Daddy K goads.
“And that even if I didn’t do it, it was my job to keep tabs on my people.”
“Exactly.”
Big Daddy K pulls a gun out of the back of his pants. He holds it to Dunnegan’s temple. He leaves enough
time so Dunnegan understands what’s about to happen before he pulls the trigger.
My ears ring. I make myself watch. Bits of flesh and blood spatter upward. Smoke curls around the barrel as Dunnegan falls head first into the table again. Dead eyes stare nowhere as the hole in his head leaks blood onto the table. The river of blood turns the white tablecloth a deep crimson and spreads outward.
Big Daddy K turns on his heel and returns to his drink. He holds it in the air. “You did a good thing for us, Kyla, and I won’t forget it.”
Vomit lurches up my throat. In that moment, I can’t decide if I hate myself or loathe myself. Maybe Johnny sees it because he makes me look away from the gruesome scene and into his icy blue eyes. “You just saved a bunch of girls.”
God, I fucking hope so. I hold on to that thought. I hold on to it so tightly along with the remaining shreds of my humanity.
33
Over the next few days, the Crew unravels what’s been going on at Candy’s while simultaneously trying to find Gregory. It turns out Dunnegan was, in essence, a figurehead. All he could do was talk a big game, but Gregory pulled the strings when it came to Candy’s. That’s not to say Dunnegan didn’t know about it. As soon as word gets around that Big Daddy K took out Dunnegan, women come out, mainly prostitutes and druggies, wanting an audience with K so they can tell him the depraved shit they went through at the hands of both Gregory and Dunnegan.
I don’t know what the women are hoping to accomplish, other than getting ten minutes in Big Daddy K’s presence and an apology, but that’s all they’ll get.
Johnny has me on lockdown again. I can’t say I blame him this time. He doesn’t want me to go anywhere until Gregory is found. Word spreads, and Big Daddy K makes it a big deal that I was the one who unraveled the shit that went down at Candy’s. Everyone in the Heights has a new respect for me. Roses are sent to me daily from people who are just names on a card. Some of them thank me for saving their young girls, and I find some pride in that. I don’t know about the other stuff though. That’s two murders I’ve witnessed in the span of about a month. Two more murders than I’ve ever wanted to witness. It’s hard to take solace in the kind words when all I see is Dunnegan’s life draining from his face, witnessing the moment it went dark for him.
