by Tiana Laveen
“That’s a simplistic characterization, but yes, that’s essentially what I do. I have a law degree as well. I take all of my work seriously and do it to the best of my ability. The same as you…”
“You have a bunch of big titles, the big man on campus, but that has nothing to do with me. I’m just a hustler in your eyes, right?” Her view narrowed on him as her mood grew fangs. “Probably some low bit drug dealer that you only see as some bitch. Oh, let me rephrase that … some Black bitch, right? In my world, I was top dog, but in yours, I’m small on the totem pole if I even show up at all.”
“Let me make some things perfectly clear to you, Ms. McCall. First, get that fucking chip off your goddamn shoulder. I’m not your enemy. Secondly, this reminds me of something I’ve been wanting to address with you.”
“What?”
“I want to apologize for hitting you when I took you from your home. I was tired, frustrated, angry, and believed you had a hand in killing my best friend. You did, but I don’t believe that was your intent, especially after my analysis of all of the information and to me, intent is very important. Nevertheless, I don’t go around hitting women as a rule of thumb. My apology is genuine.”
“Okay, so you claim to not be a woman beater. Have you ever had to kill a woman?” She smirked.
“Have you?” She rolled her eyes and looked away, which drew a light laugh from him. “Yeah,” he answered casually as a light chuckle escaped his lips, but then that smile slowly faded. “I’ve killed my share, but that was business, what I was trained to do. Do you honestly think I was going to discriminate when it comes to my life and assisting in protecting the team of agents I worked with? Someone with a pussy can be just as dangerous, if not more so, as someone with a dick … you’re proof of that. Regardless, I was raised with old fashioned principles, and I don’t really enjoy when that sort of thing happens. I can’t change it though, and I had to do what I had to do.”
“I don’t enjoy it either, but sometimes, it’s inescapable.” Flashes of blood splattered on a wall flashed in her mind. That time, she’d had to kill another drug dealer who’d tried to rob her and Gable. Old memories resurfaced of the life she’d been forced to leave behind.
“I’ve had women come rushing to me and my men with grenades, machine guns and gasoline with matches during raids. Yes, I’ve had to put their asses down without a moment’s hesitation.” She could see he’d grown immune to the shock of killing. So had she. Were they even human anymore? “My point is that outside of business I’ve never laid a hand on a woman, whether it was my ex-wife, someone I was dating, a female trainer, anyone. I am perfectly capable of separating work from personal life.”
“Do you have a girlfriend, someone you’re dating now?”
Why did you just ask him that? She hated how his lips curved at her question—in that all knowing, ‘you’re busted’, you’ve-got-a-thing-for-me kind of way.
He shook his head and exhaled loudly. “Nah. I’m not seeing anyone right now.” She sat a bit straighter, all confused inside. “I would also like to apologize for calling you a bitch. My emotions regarding John had impaired me. At the time I meant it, but now I regret it.”
“Don’t apologize for that.” She shrugged. “I am. I sure as hell don’t apologize for it. I embrace it.”
At that, he smirked. He let his head lull back and he gazed at her through hooded eyes.
“Are you in love with someone? You only mentioned wanting to make sure Gable was okay, and requested to talk to your mother, but is there someone else?”
She could see in his eyes he knew the answer, but perhaps he just wanted to hear her say it.
“I’m not seeing anyone right now. And even if I were…” She shrugged. “It would be over now, wouldn’t it?” She laughed mirthlessly.
“I suppose so. Now that’s aside, let me get to the nitty gritty, Tiffany. You’re bought and paid for, and you are the one who put yourself up for sale when you entered the business you’re in. Problem is, you can never alter the sticker price or remove yourself from the shelf.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re a pawn. It’s not that you’re last on the totem pole to me, but you’re last in the big scheme of things. Unfortunately, many underestimated your influence. See, a lot of the agents want the big guys, the drug lords, but there would be no drug lords without people like you. What’s interesting about you is that in a few more years, if you survived, you’d more than likely have been one, too. You were movin’ up those ranks fast, weren’t you?”
At that moment, his smile sickened her. He was correct; she was being prepped for a major promotion. She’d earned her stripes and now, everything had been torn away from her without so much as a warning.
“How the hell do you know I still can’t get my rightful position back? I can rebuild anywhere. The knowledge doesn’t leave me; it’s just a change in location.” She clicked her teeth with her tongue, knowing she was digging herself deep with those words. Rather than showing anger, he donned a look of concern, as if she were some wayward child and he were the parent.
“You’re slick, but not slick enough to stand against what’s going on in your business right this moment. People in Chicago are in awe of you. They don’t know how you’ve done what you’ve done and many are afraid of you. You’re still fairly young, you’ve got clout and power, and the stunts you’ve pulled off few would fathom, coming from a woman like you. Let’s face it, beauty and brains are considered a rare combination. You’ve beaten some people to a pulp with your bare hands, sending a message you are not one to be messed with. That’s great. Congratulations, sweetheart,” He offered a slow applause, then his smile vanished. “But you’re in a totally different world now, surrounded by men who think like me. You haven’t a clue as to the true nature of what’s going on, and this isn’t something that can be taught overnight. It’s not an education; it’s a mentality.”
“I’m here because of what happened to your best friend. You want revenge. You made me suffer until you got out of me what you needed. I get it, Phoenix. You got my cousin, you got me, and yet, something is still off. You want more before you take me over to Canada.” She gave him a piercing look. “You’re not telling me everything. You act like it’s for my own good, but I know better.”
“It is for your own good.”
“Why?” She threw up her hands. “Either way, I’m going to die. I can’t live with you forever. I can’t hide from these people.” She turned towards the window, angry tears forming in her eyes. “I’m a marked woman and regardless of what happens, my actions the night your friend died have helped to dig my grave. I can’t take it back! God knows I wish I could! The FBI is down the Disciples’ backs and the Disciples are convinced Gable had something to do with it now. My mother already told me everything and you showed me what they said about it on the news. They’re lookin’ at me too, because they know we’re business partners besides cousins, and now both of our asses are missing. What are they supposed to think at this point, huh? Everything I worked so hard for is destroyed! These are not people you can sit down and reason with. I’m screwed. They’re gang members, not fuckin’ stupid, Phoenix!” The bed shook as her rage took her under.
“They know about you and Gable. They know you killed those DEA agents they were going to do the drug deal with, too. Not because they pieced it together, but because they were told.” Her breathing accelerated as she tried to search his face, see if the man was playing games, fucking with her mind. “Someone else knows what you two did. I’m trying to figure out exactly who. In some way, I’m sure you thought the Disciples should be thanking you because many of them would be facing lifetime bids in state prison had that little exchange not been interrupted. But now you see that wasn’t the case.” He leaned in, his eyes snake-like as they narrowed on her. “It was much worse because an epic investigation has been launched. Online petitions have been drafted, and the people want blood.
“You wa
nted to know what you’re up against, baby? Well, here it is… The Gangster Disciples operations all over the nation are under scrutiny, not just in Illinois. Killing a DEA agent brings a special sort of call to justice, in and out of prison, that no one can save them from.” Her heart thumped hard within her chest as her anxiety mounted from each word he uttered. “They’ll be torn limb from limb … emotionally, psychologically, mentally, and finally, physically, all on account of Gable putting slugs in those three men. It was your brain child, you’re the accomplice, but you directly killed no one. Right now, as things stand, your involvement is still just a rumor. Of course, that won’t stop the street justice being rallied against you. But what matters is what I think of you, Tiffany. You didn’t kill John. I can see it in your eyes, and though you’ve tried to pretend like you didn’t give a shit, I’ve read your confessions. You’re so much more than you pretend to be. I had to read a bunch of handwritten journals to find out who you really were. Yeah, the names dropped in them were great, trust me. You’ve given us a shitload of leads, but you, my dear, are somethin’ else … what a prize.”
She swallowed as her eyes glossed over. Pure adrenaline pumped within her.
“You want me, don’t you?” She sneered, trying to derail the tight rope journey he was trying to take her on. He shrugged in a nonchalant sort of way and looked about, as if trying to figure out if it were true or not.
“You see me lookin’ at you sometimes, right? It bothers you, but you like it … asking me about a wife, family, girlfriend. You collect people like you collect jewelry, Tiffany.” His tone turned from easygoing to dark. “Men are mere accessories to you. You want to add me to your collection, Tiffany?” An evil grin spread across his face. “Maybe I’ll add you to my collection instead … let you hang your thighs around my neck like a pussy pendant.” He stood abruptly from the chair and tossed it to the side.
“Who are you?” She was barely able to get the words out without a scream. “You do more than what you’ve said, you’ve all but admitted that. Who is the man behind the suit? Tell me … just tell me!”
He stared her down for what felt like an eternity, and she saw the Devil. Instead of horns, he wore Armani shirts and Escada jeans.
“Oh yes, beautiful. There’s more to me than meets the eye. There’s always more, isn’t there, baby?” He caressed her chin with a light touch. “You want to know who I am? They call me the dragon. You came close to discovering that on your own, but just be glad you never had to find out why.” And then he walked out the door…
He wanted to touch her, to reach across the bed and grab her in his arms and kiss her. Things had gotten out of hand. He’d gotten too close, she’d gotten too close, the world was closing in on him. She had no idea how she’d destroyed him and built him up with the angry tears that pooled in her eyes, her concern over her mother, and now, her acknowledgement of how far up shit’s creek she’d travelled with no paddle or life preserver. Her remorse didn’t pour out from between those lips; it was written in blood across the pages of her journals.
He lay in bed underneath wine-colored sheets, the journals sprawled around him, having read them cover to cover. He’d had a hell of a time getting the safe open to retrieve them. He’d begun reading them while she was trapped in his ‘playhouse’ in Vegas, and she’d consented to a deal: her life and freedom in exchange for a bonanza of information. Finding out interesting tidbits about her through her meticulous planning had been a true journey within itself.
He’d teemed with disgust, revulsion, lust and admiration at her words. Her penmanship was perfection dipped in ink, her thoughts clear, her emotions all over the fucking place. He surmised these books were the only place where she dared to show vulnerability, and this thought tore him up inside—the fact he’d gotten a glimpse of her true nature.
It challenged all his perceptions about her, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
But he wasn’t one to lie to himself. He was a straightforward kind of guy.
So what now?
At 2:12 A.M., he was on his fourth cup of coffee in the last three hours. What a diabolic, systematic mind she possessed. She was no small-time hustler; that woman had pulled off some of the most elaborate schemes he’d ever read about in the underbelly of drug trafficking history. Tiffany McCall had made the bulk of her money convincing the inconvincible that the sky was blood red and their lawns were made of discarded rainbow clouds, gold speckled leprechaun shit, and unicorn dust. She walked away from every battle looking shiny and brand new, as if she’d given life to the valley of death and seen it bear flowers, black butterflies and blood red roses.
This time, however, things had gotten out of hand. She’d bitten off more than she could chew and the details of John’s death in that book floored him…
Little did she know; her written words had saved her life…
He’d been set to turn her over to the wolves after she’d confessed in Vegas, provided he’d confirmed the contents of the journals—which he did. Had he done so, she’d at the very least have been saddled with a prison sentence which she’d surely not survive once her enemies got their hooks in her. He’d been about to make the call to get her out of his hair, be rid of her, but his gut told him to put it all on pause after he read her words in those journals…
I should have done this on my own. No. I shouldn’t have done this at all. It wasn’t worth it.
Gable fucked up the entire plan. I’ve asked him a million times to stop doing this shit. If something happens to me, it’s because he shot those guys. I told him no bodies, as that’s traceable. He says dead men tell no tales. That’s bullshit. Forensics tell everything. These men were respected … three dead white men. We live in America. How the hell does he think this will play out if we are connected to it? You don’t go around killing DEA agents. We’ll attract the wrong attention. The streets are talking now. There’s war brewing. The murders hit the news now, too.
The man who got out of the vehicle to help me got caught in the crossfire. The reporter said his name was John Price. Everyone wants someone to blame, but I can only blame myself. I looked into that man’s eyes and hated what was happening. He didn’t deserve that. I’ll never forget it, and I’ve been having nightmares. I can’t sleep half the time now. Everything is fucked up. We could have gotten what we needed without killing anyone. If Gable had worn his mask, kept his mouth shut, and did what I told him to do, none of this would be happening. Sometimes, murder comes with the job. We haven’t always had the option to walk away without bloodshed, but this time we did. Doesn’t matter now though, because here we are.
The bad feeling I had that morning … I should have listened to my gut. Something told me to pull the plug on this. I even suggested to Gable we should abort the mission but he refused. No way, he said. He’s gone away now. I’ll stay, but I might have to follow behind him if this gets any worse.
His sister stopped by pretending to want to borrow money. Cora mainly just wanted to make sure I was there. Who the hell did she think she was fooling? I could see it in her eyes. She was nervous, plotting. Someone put her up to babysitting me, thinking she could get in close and I’d tell her where Gable really was.
I don’t know exactly, and that’s how it was planned. Giving her money would have paid for her silence and also admitted I was guilty. I never gave her a key to my home, either. She tried to rob me, see if I’d fight back. I would have killed her had she been anyone else and no doubt, she had a tape recorder on her. It’s not hard to convince a dope fiend to turn on you. Blood is thicker than water, right? Bullshit. My own family is now working for the enemy. I can trust NO ONE…
Phoenix mulled over the woman’s confessions. One thing in particular she didn’t know about: the fact he’d realized that plans didn’t go as expected, her cousin had become trigger happy, and now the chips had fallen where they would. Tiffany was still partially to blame, but his hatred for her diminished the more he learned about her and the more time he spent wi
th her. He now knew for certain she hadn’t pulled the trigger, but if it weren’t for her, maybe John would still be alive. He’d wrestled with this every hour of each day, and in some moments, he found himself fighting against his own instinct to annihilate her.
After all, he was expected to do just that with so many others. Anyone who got in the way of their investigations or killed one of their own, he was sent out to hunt down and assassinate. His days of doing such were supposed to be over, but even his mother knew better. Those hunts never ended up in the prey’s favor, and he couldn’t help that he was built for this bullshit.
This particular hunt, though, was a private mission.
He hadn’t been assigned to it; it was definitely a conflict of interest. If his true involvement was discovered, things might not bode well for him. Some things needed to be kept secret … like the woman with the butterfly holding a rose tattoo. Tiffany had begun as his pet project, but now, she’d become something infinitely more, and he couldn’t let them have her…
His possessiveness over her grew ugly, huge, and all encompassing.
When he listened to her play that guitar for hours, nonstop, heard that beautiful, professional sound, that soul in the music and her voice, there was no way back for him.
Something about everything she did screamed complexity and depth. She wasn’t as cold hearted as she behaved—not exactly exuding warmth, either, but then again, neither did he. He understood the desire to wrap oneself in the necessary protective armor, the hard-shelled coating to keep the world out so one could perform a dreadful, challenging, nasty job in peace.
I didn’t kill her in her house when I wanted to. I betrayed John.
