by Izzy Sweet
“If you say so, Matthew,” I reply and turn back to him. “Eugene will be a complication no longer. He has also added even more of a tie for us to the Italians. We are the proverbial golden teat.”
“Finding a good investment banker who knows how to launder a large amount of money is becoming harder to find,” he says.
“Is this why you’re having me look at another disease infested strip club?” I ask.
“Well, we do want to look legitimate,” he snickers at my discomfort.
He knows my… distaste for the dirty, fluid-filled, sour smelling, unwashed attendees of these type of operations. I know he finds perverse pleasure in sending me into them for appraisals.
“There are many other establishments we could be investing in. I think there are even a couple of banks we could scoop up through one of our off-shore companies.”
“How many are you thinking?” he asks as he looks over to me with interest.
I knew that would get his attention away from Meredith. I could just tell he wanted to get back into it with what’s happening.
“Three. The two remaining West Liberties and the last of the Provident Banks of Garden City. This would be an excellent way to head into a more legitimate direction for Adam.”
“Indeed, it would. What would be the term of ownership before we could sell them to him?”
“I’d give it fifteen years. We would, of course, be able to tap into new markets in that time. With the local unions being much more trusting of us than a banker group from another city.”
“Simon, I do believe you have given Adam his twenty-first birthday gift,” he smiles at me and I can see his joy.
Adam is one of Lucifer’s greatest lights. The others are Evelyn and David. There is no distinction between adopted or not. In the eyes of the government, and Lucifer, they are his by blood. I would commend Lucifer for his devotion, if children weren’t so repulsive.
“So, I believe I can skip the unnecessary…”
“Simon, we can’t be viewed as living the life of the virtuous.” He shakes his head. “It’s not good for our image. Also, we need to keep all toeholds away from any incoming Russian presence. We may be at a lull, but I can feel… that this complacency will not last.”
“Agreed. Whether I want to admit such out loud at this moment, it’s odd that they are keeping their drunken selves so quiet.”
“We’re here, boss,” Peter says from up front.
“So we are,” Lucifer says looking out the window. “Let’s finish this up. Lily has plans for me to look over for the gathering at the end of the month.”
“Speaking of that…” I say.
“You will be in attendance.”
“Matthew, have I ever told you how fitting your moniker can be sometimes?” I say with a grimace.
Laughing loudly as he slides out of the door, he sounds to me like the real Lucifer when he says, “A few times.”
Eugene is struggling mightily as we finally have the concrete mortar set around the cement blocks his feet have been stuck in.
“Eugene, I’ve been known to be a forgiving man in my past, but I feel that has been taken far too much for granted as of late,” Lucifer says as he holds a pistol to the head of the quivering, overweight banker. “So, while I would have considered just putting you out of your misery, I’ve decided to be very strict with those that betray my trust.”
He pushes the fat man into the water with one firm hand and we all stand on the edge of the dock, watching as the man quickly sinks down to the bottom.
Bubbles float up as the freezing cold water rushes into the soon-to-be dead man’s lungs.
We don’t see his last moments deep down in the dark water, but I can feel those fears slightly rushing into my own mind as I think on Lucifer’s words.
2
Meredith
Peeling my eyes open, I glance towards the clock on my nightstand. It reads six o’clock. Shit. I’ve slept most of the day away…
Sitting up, I stretch my arms over my head to get my blood flowing and arch my back.
I feel a little guilty about sleeping in so late, but then again, it’s not like I have anything to accomplish. No, being held prisoner in this little townhouse, I’m trapped in this kind of hellish limbo. I have nothing to do. I have no purpose.
I just exist.
Sliding out of bed, I pad my way into the bathroom, flip on the light and freeze. Struck by the sight my own reflection.
My hair is so light now, I almost don’t recognize myself.
Gone is the dark color I’ve embraced for so long. The color that has set me apart from him, my wicked stepbrother.
I bleached my hair before I went to sleep, and the new blonde color makes me look like I could easily fit in with Matthew’s perfect little golden family now.
How a monster like him can have and even care about a family still eludes me. It’s completely unnatural and goes against everything I know about him.
I curl my lip in disdain and turn away from the mirror, hating the way I look. Hating the loss of that last distinction that set me apart.
Unfortunately, it was necessary.
Short of plastic surgery, this was the only way to drastically change the way I look. And I need to change the way I look if I ever hope to escape and evade the men after me.
Three months. It’s been three long months since I came to Garden City and begged Matthew for protection. If I would have known his version of protection would be handing me off to his most trusted goon, Simon, I would have never come to this god-forsaken place.
I expected Matthew to take care of my ‘problem’, to wipe the family of my former and late boyfriend off the map. I even half expected him to snuff me out for even asking.
What I didn’t expect was this. This… prison.
I quickly take care of my business, manage to brush my teeth without looking too much at myself in the mirror, and try to work out how I’m going to get out of the townhouse today.
Simon. Ugh. I have to call Simon.
The man has become the bane of my existence, acting pretty much like my prison warden. But given that my pleas and demands have fallen deaf on Matthew’s ears, he’s my only chance of getting out of this mess.
Walking into the kitchen, I grab my phone off the counter where I left it. The phone that was ‘provided’ to me like I needed the charity. I wouldn’t need it at all if they hadn’t taken everything I own away. Even now I can picture Simon’s cold voice and even colder face when he handed it to me like it was some great big boon he was bestowing upon me.
The phone only dials a handful of trusted numbers, 911 not being one of them. Thankfully, they at least allow me to order my own groceries and toiletries with it.
It’s the only fucking contact with the outside world I get.
I stare at the screen of the phone. Simon’s number sits at the top of the contact list.
My thumb hesitates in midair, floating above his name.
If only there was another way to get away, to escape. I’ve tried it all, though. I’ve tried sneaking out, only to find yet another of Matthew’s goons guarding the front door, waiting for me. I’ve tried escaping through the window, and I even made it across the backyard before they captured me. I’d befriend my neighbors, but the rows of townhouses surrounding me have been bought out by them and sit empty.
Subsequent attempts have ended before they even began. I don’t know how they know when I get the bug up my ass to try again, but they do.
The hair on the back of my neck rises, standing on end.
I think they’re watching me.
I shiver out my heebie-jeebies and then my thumb touches Simon’s name. Even if there are hidden cameras all over the townhouse, what can I do about it?
The phone rings once, twice, three times, before his voice comes through the line. “Meredith.”
God, how I hate the way he says my name. It’s so cold, so dead. Completely lacking in any feeling.
“Simo
n,” I say, trying to mimic the way he said my name and failing.
“What do you want?” Straight to the point, as always.
“I want to go out,” I sigh and lean against the counter. I’ll try this the nice way first before I get nasty. “Being cooped up like this is driving me crazy.”
“You know that’s not possible. I’ve explained this to you before. It’s too—”
I cut him off before he can say that one word he’s so fond of saying to me. Risky.
As if I’m not already extremely aware of my perilous position. Aware that there are powerful men, very powerful and well-connected men, who want to kill me.
“I’ve changed my hair,” I say over him and the line falls silent. I shift uneasily. “No one will recognize me.”
He’s quiet for so long I have to check the phone to make sure he didn’t hang up on me. Then the hair rises again on the back of my neck and I get that creepy-crawly feeling that I’m being watched.
“You what?” he asks almost harshly, finally showing some feeling. Why he sounds so pissed though is beyond me.
“I bleached my hair,” I explain, becoming annoyed that I even have to explain it to him.
Simon breathes into the phone, as if he’s upset, and I can’t help but find it a little unnerving. Why does he sound so upset? Is it because I’ve finally found a way to thwart him?
“How did you get the bleach?”
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Of course he wants to know all the dirty little details. He’s so damn meticulous and uptight, it’s beyond frustrating.
“I ordered it through the grocery store and had it delivered,” I try to say calmly but my annoyance is getting the best of me. There’s just something about him that pisses me off to no end. He’s so damn stuck-up, so anal about everything, it drives me a little mad. That, and I’ve tried every little trick in the book on him and he’s only proven to be completely impervious. “I had to because you won’t let me fucking leave.”
The breathing through the phone seems to calm and his voice returns to that cold, detached tone as he says, “You’re not going out tonight, Meredith.”
Those six words make me want to scream, but that won’t get me what I want.
“Why? Why not? Why does he insist on punishing me?” I ask.
So the nice way didn’t work. Time to switch gears and pretend to be remorseful.
“Look, I’m sorry I asked for Matthew’s protection. I realize that was a mistake now and I greatly regret it. I assure you, I’ve learned my lesson.”
“This is not a punishment, Meredith” he says slowly, snidely, once again letting some emotion slip. “This is for your own protection.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I knew this would be difficult, and he hasn’t hung up on me yet.
“Just let me go,” I resort to pleading, though it’s probably lost on him.
If there were any way to sexually manipulate him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. He’s not a bad looking man. In fact, he’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. I’d take him to my bed without thinking twice about it. But Simon is beyond being influenced in that way. The couple of times in the past that I’ve tried with a look here or a touch there, have only caused him to shut down completely. To become even colder. More distant.
I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he’s gay. It would explain why he seems to be stuck so far up Matthew’s ass.
“I swear, you’ll never see or hear a peep from me again,” I add, hoping to entice him.
“No,” he says so firmly, so strongly, I’m taken aback.
“No?” I repeat in disbelief then repeat again more shrilly. “No?!”
Fuck this shit, I’ve had enough. This has gone on long enough. I’m pulling out the big guns. Playing nice never works with him, he gives me no choice but to act the bitch.
“If I don’t get out of this shitty little townhouse, I swear I’m going to slit my wrists and spill my blood all over everything. The furniture… the curtains… the carpets...”
Yeah, I’m well aware that Simon is a germaphobe and a total neat freak. It’s yet another thing that makes him annoying.
He sounds almost bored as he asks, “With what blade?”
Oh, fuck this guy. Yeah, they removed everything from this house that could be used as a weapon, but I’m still pretty damn creative.
“With my teeth,” I hiss.
The line goes quiet, and I know he’s weighing whether or not he believes I’ll go through with it. Just for shits and giggles, I lift my hand up to my mouth to see what happens.
“Fine,” he hisses back, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or freaked out. Is he really watching me right now? Or was that just a coincidence?
“Fine?” I repeat for clarification, keeping my hand close to my lips.
“I’ll take you out,” he grinds out like he’s gritting his teeth. “But it will have to be to one of our protected properties.”
That’s not exactly what I was wanting, but I’ll take it. “What are my choices?”
“The compound. One of the bars. Or…”
Neither of those options sounds particularly appealing.
“Or?” I press.
His voice is thick with disgust as he says, “One of our many strip clubs.”
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Not only because it will probably be easier to slip away in the dark of a strip club, but because it’s so obvious Simon hates them.
“I want to go to a strip club,” I grin and drop my hand.
“Of course you would,” he says like it’s supposed to be an insult or something.
I roll my eyes at the ceiling. What man doesn’t like strip clubs? I was only pretty sure before, but I’m one hundred percent certain now.
Simon is totally gay.
“Pick me up in a couple of hours,” I say and hang up the phone.
3
Meredith
The tires of Simon’s SUV squeal as he hits the gas. Behind us, the night sky is lit up with a glow of orange as the inferno consuming Lucky Tails blazes towards the heavens. Sirens flash, red, white, and blue, illuminating the burning building.
It looks like a party in a hell, and I just barely escaped it.
I glance over at Simon. He looks… unraveled. In the three months that I’ve known him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. His eyes are wild, full of emotion for once, and yet focused with a purpose. The hair he usually keeps slicked back is all over the place. His tie is askew. He shed his suit jacket, but there is still blood all over his shirt, arms, and hands.
Cherry’s blood.
He killed her. I watched him lean in close to her like he was a lover and shove a blade in her chest.
Fuck. I knew it, but seeing is truly believing. He’s a monster just like him.
Watching Simon kill Cherry was just like that day I stumbled across Matthew in the basement all those years ago, torturing that man…
The tires of the SUV squeal again as Simon is forced to come to a stop at a light.
I don’t think twice. I have to get away. I can’t be a part of this madness.
One hand grabbing the handle of the door, my other hand unclicks my seatbelt and I try to make a run for it.
Shoving my door open, I get one foot out the door when my hair is suddenly grabbed. I’m yanked viciously back.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Meredith?”
I scream and reach back, clawing at the hands gripping my hair.
“Let me go, Simon!” I screech.
“No,” he growls.
He growls. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Simon speak in anything but a cool, almost robotic voice before.
I guess I really do bring out the best of him.
Yanking harder on my hair, he uses it to reel me back in. I scream again as my scalp lights up with agony.
Leaning over me, he rips one hand from my hair to pull the door shut. Then he shoves tha
t hand into my chest, pinning me against the seat, as he straightens.
“Now is not the time for this shit,” he states matter-of-factly as he looks me deep in the eyes. “I have to get you somewhere safe and take care of this mess. Do you understand, princess?”
When I don’t immediately answer him, he tugs on my hair again.
I whimper at the pain and his eyes light up. Flashing with something that looks a lot like pleasure.
Fuck. Is he getting off on this?
“Yes,” I somehow manage to croak out.
For a minute, we just stare at each other. Me, panting with pain and too aware of his strong hand pressed against my chest. Him, with his eyes boring into me, almost daring me to defy him.
I don’t know where this new, meaner Simon came from, but I know better than to push him. I’ve learned from experience that the only hope I have of getting away unscathed is by pretending to be compliant.
Finally, with a look of distrust followed by something that could easily be mistaken for disappointment, Simon slides his hand out of my hair and says, “Good.”
He glances down at his hand, at all the hair wrapped around his fingers, and frowns. I half expect him to make a mean crack, but he doesn’t. No, he just stares at his hand, at my hair, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
A car honks behind us, quickly followed by another. With a sigh, he leans back into his seat, shakes the hair from his hand, and throws the SUV into drive.
“Put your seatbelt back on,” he says without looking over at me.
Anger flares inside me and I latch onto it. I stoke it. Needing it to get me through this.
I hate being told what to do, just fucking hate it…
But fuck, if I keep defying him, I’ll never get out of this.
Gritting my teeth, I reach back, ignoring the way my scalp throbs, and grab the seatbelt, yanking it across myself.
Once the seatbelt clicks into place, Simon’s shoulders slump just the tiniest of bits.
Good, he’s relaxing a little. Probably thinks he just bullied me into submission.
