Beware 2: The Comeback

by Shanora Williams

  “A risk, Trent. A risk I’m willing to take for my flesh and blood.” I point down at Bianca and take a quick glance back at London before returning it to him. “Look what the fuck he did to them. I refuse to drop everything right now. I know where he is, and I’m gonna fucking handle it.” I step towards London, unlocking the cuffs and picking her up in my arms. “It’s what they’d want. They wouldn’t want me waiting around for them to recover. They’d want me fighting to end it all.” I look up. “Doing this.” Then, I turn for the door and walk out. When I make it to the car, I buckle London in, Trent following my lead with Bianca in his arms.

  Shutting the door, I head towards the passenger seat and yank out my second gun. Trent walks around the car, gripping my shoulders. “If anything happens and I’m not there I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

  “You’ll be fine. You’re doing this for me. My family.”

  Releasing my shoulder, he steps back, taking a look at the house. Nodding, he says, “Should get them to the hospital.”

  “Should.”

  He turns, and without a look back, he hops into the driver’s seat and skids off, hauling ass to the hospital. I know Trent. He’ll drop them off at the emergency room and then come back for me. I won’t let him die because of my mistakes. He made it out alive the first time, and I intend to keep it that way.

  I watch him drift down the street, but before he can disappear, the car comes to a screeching halt, and the back door swings open. Out climbs London who slams the door behind her and runs in my direction with broad, glistening eyes.

  Stunned, I start to walk towards her, and when she meets up to me, we clash. Her arms bolt around my neck, holding on unbelievably tight. A hold saying a million words. My heart catches speeds when she lands in my arms, when I realize she’s safe… that they’re safe. But there’s still one more we need to save.

  Our son.

  “Ace! Oh my God,” she breathes. Relief.

  “Red,” I breathe. “You gotta get the hell out of here, babe.”

  She pulls back, shaking her head, hazel eyes full of anger. “No, Ace. No! Fuck that! He has Aden!”

  “I know, and I’m going to take care of it, London.”

  “I’m not letting you go alone. Are you fucking insane?! Do you remember what happened the last time?”

  I grip her shoulders, jaw locked. “I’m not letting you come with me, London. It’s not safe.” I look over her shoulder, spotting Trent standing outside his car, confused. “Go back with Trent. You’ll be safe with him.”

  Narrowing her eyes up at me, she turns around and yells, “Get Bianca to the hospital, Trent! Go! Now!” Trent remains in place, but when I realize London isn’t going to budge on this one, even if I tell her to take Trent’s place and get Bianca there immediately, I nod at him. He hops in his car and drives away.

  After taking a look around the deserted neighborhood, she faces me and asks, “Do you know how to hotwire a car?”

  I look towards the rusted brown Honda coupe parked along the curb of the home across the street, and clutching London’s hand, I march for it. The door is already unlocked.

  “Keep watch,” I tell her. I kneel down, snatching the cover of the fuse box off and rearranging the wires. Once the car rattles to life, I climb in the seat and London runs around to the passenger side, sliding in and shutting the door behind her. Putting the car in reverse, I ask, “What the hell happened in there?”

  Eyes wide, her gaze bounces in my direction. I put the car in drive, and she says, “I… tried to manipulate Greg. He didn’t fall for it.”

  I grimace, and my eye twitches. “Manipulate as in, what? Seducing him?”

  “I’ve done it before,” she says defensively.

  “That was fucking before, London. He’s been acting with you.”

  “And I was acting with him.” Her voice is stern.

  I grab the wheel tighter, and when she notices the tension, she places a hand on my thigh. “It was the only way I could think of to get us out of there,” she confesses.

  I grunt, brushing it off. Right now is not the time to argue. I need to focus. I pull onto the main road and jet down the street, eyes forward.

  “He knew I was just trying to get out of there.” She holds her breath for a moment, lowering her head. “I… hesitated. He asked me if I really loved him, and I hesitated. If I would’ve just went along with it and said yes, he never would’ve questioned my motives. That’s when he started threatening me, squeezing me and… choking me.” Her head shakes back and forth as she runs her fingertips across her neck. “It’s my fault he hit Bianca. She was shouting at him, telling him to stop hurting me. He went to her and slapped her around, then pistol-whipped her. He did the same to me.” She reaches up, touching the red spot on her head.

  “I’ll kill him,” I growl through clamped teeth, my grip fastening around the steering wheel.

  “He said he wouldn’t let anything happen to Aden earlier, but since I tried that, he may not care anymore. He might actually use Aden to get back at me.” She reaches for my free hand, and when I glance over, tears are in her eyes. “Ace we have to get to him. Now.”

  I can’t tell her that I was supposed to be there nearly fifteen minutes ago. She’ll go crazy—assume Aden’s already been hurt. I keep driving, pulling off of the freeway, taking a sharp right turn, and entering London’s neighborhood.

  I drive down the road, vigilant, spotting her house ahead. No cars are parked up front. Only one truck in the driveway—Greg’s. He wants me to think they’re the only people around. I pull up in front of the fifth house from hers. Considering how large these homes are and how big the yards are, it’s a good distance away. “I can’t take the beach,” I tell her. “I’m sure they’re watching it.”

  She nods, unclipping her seatbelt. I stop her, and she jerks her head up, eyes hard. “Ace, what are you doing?”

  “Stay here.”

  “No!”

  “Yes!” My voice thunders, but she doesn’t dare flinch.

  “Ace, I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” she says through gritted teeth.

  I draw in a deep breath, collecting a small ounce of patience. “I have a plan, London, and I need you to sit here and wait. Can you do that for me?”

  “Maybe before, but that’s my son in there,” she points at the house, infuriated, “I will not just sit here.”

  I sigh. “Trust me?”

  She blinks. A question I ask often, yet she always reacts differently to it. Back in New York, she would still be unsure, but how does she feel about hearing it now after three long years? After so much has changed in my life and hers?

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Then stay here. Don’t come out. You understand?”

  Tears build up at the rims of her eyes, but with slight reluctance, she nods. “Fine. But if it takes longer than ten minutes I’m coming in, Ace.”

  I watch her sparkling eyes, knowing she means it. Reaching for my ankle, I pull the gun out of the holster wrapped around it and hand it to her. This time, she grips it in hand, no hesitancy. “Anything happens, use it. Don’t hesitate.” I look her over as she stares down at the gun. “That’s your son in there, right?”

  Her eyes flicker up. “Yes. Our son.”

  “Right. Our son. You aren’t a killer, but they’ve fucked with the wrong family. If you have to be murderous in order to hold him in your arms again, so be it. If you need to use every single bullet on every motherfucker that crosses you, don’t regret a fucking thing. You hear me?”

  Tears stream down her cheeks as I drop my forehead on hers, cupping the back of her neck. Fighting tears, she says, “I will. For Aden. For you.” Her soft, warm lips press on mine, hazel meeting honey-brown. “For us.”

  Only When I Walk Away – Justin Timberlake

  The house next door to hers is up for sale. When I get in, I should be able to see how many men are actually canvasing London’s house and how many I need to take down in or
der to get to their leader.

  The betrayer.

  Maurice.

  Once I’m out of the car, I go through the yard of the house I parked in front of and quickly make my way to the back. No one’s around. I keep moving.

  This is a situation I have to take seriously, and I have to move fast. I can’t fuck up. My son is in there somewhere, and if anything happens to him, London will never forgive me. I pass three houses, but when I make it to the fourth, I spot one of the men walking the perimeter of London’s backyard. Ducking aside, I peer over, watching as he walks in the other direction. When he disappears, I walk around the vacant home, sliding the balcony door window open.

  Shutting it behind me quietly, I tuck my gun in my holster and rush through the kitchen, zooming up the stairs. I make it to the third bedroom—the bedroom with the floor-to-ceiling window that I can see London’s house through perfectly—and shut the door behind me, staring at the .50 cal. rifle. It’s already set up for me. Waiting to be used.

  My plan. I have to admit, it’s a master plan.

  See, while I was handling the guns, I had Trent come to this house and pretend to be a realtor. He came in, brought the gun to the location I told him to, and set it up for me. I’ve been sneaking in and out of this house for days. It’s how I was watching London and Aden through binoculars before all this fucked up shit happened.

  Call me a stalker.

  What the fuck do I care?

  Unbuttoning and snatching my suit jacket off, I toss it aside and bend down, lying flat on stomach. Carefully, my finger goes around the trigger, my eye to the lens, and I scan her home.

  “Fuck,” I breathe. Men. Men everywhere. At least that motherfucker isn’t taking me lightly. I pull away from the rifle and dig the extra suppressor out of my pocket. After screwing it on, I focus on the three men on the right side of the house.

  They think they’re safe.

  They’re wrong.

  I angle the gun, piercing all three of them in the heart of the chest. They collapse, all without a sound.

  Quickly, I maneuver the gun to the front of the house where the balcony is. Two men are up there keeping watch. Twisting the knob, I increase the focus. A clear shot. Perfect.

  Two more down within the blink of an eye.

  Five men down. I’m sure there are more out back. I can’t reach them, so I wait. They’ll call for each other to check for an update soon.

  Four minutes pass, three more men walk around the side of the house. They spot the dead men sagging against the wall, the blood splattered on the side of the house, and immediately draw their guns. One of them starts to talk into his walkie-talkie, but it’s too fucking late. My finger tugs on the trigger.

  One is shot through the forehead.

  One shot in the chest and through the neck, and the other the same way.

  Eight men down.

  That leaves Maurice and Greg on the inside and maybe two more.

  They won’t come out. Not until they know I’m around. A bumping noise sounds downstairs, and I react fast, jerking away from the rifle and drawing my black handgun from the holster as I stand.

  One eyebrow elevated, I start to walk towards the door. Peeking around the corner, I spot a tall shadow creeping its way up the stairs, and I duck in the corner.

  Someone knows I’m here.

  The stranger takes the rest of the stairs cautiously. I step back, gun positioned. The floor creaks with each measured step. Then, several seconds later, he’s in the room.

  Scanning.

  Searching. And it’s funny how life just hands me this one. I’m not complaining. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment.

  Greg.

  Instead of looking to his right, he focuses on the rifle in front of the window, realizing this is the exact location the shooter was in.

  After putting two and two together, he turns rapidly, but it’s too late for him. The barrel of my gun is pointed at his forehead. “What kind of cop doesn’t check his surroundings? A Captain at that?” I ask. “Must be rusty with all that sitting around you do in your office.”

  He chuckles.

  My face stiffens. “Drop the fucking gun.” He drops it right away. “Kick it away from you.”

  “Yes sir.” His voice… so full of bullshit.

  My teeth grit as I keep my gun pointed at him, walking around to pick up his weapon. “You have the fucking nerve to mock me when I have you at gunpoint?”

  “He knows you’re here. I called it in.”

  I smirk. “With what, lying piece of shit?” I step forward, using one hand to pat him down. Nothing else is on him. “You came to try and take care of the job yourself. Kill me, drag my dead body to your trunk, and turn it in for some chump change.”

  “You know, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, completely ignoring me.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I mutter.

  “I heard that it’s hard to take you down and even harder for anything to get through to you. I heard you had no weaknesses, that you kept people at arms-length for your own safety while you ran Crow.” He shrugs, lips pressing. “I mean, it makes sense. No one to care about means no blackmailing or any feelings getting in the way. But London… ooohhh, sweet London,” he sings, his face turning eerily dreamy.

  Jaw locking, I press the barrel to his forehead, gripping his throat. “Don’t you dare say her fucking name, you worthless bitch,” I spew through clamped teeth. “Not after the way you stabbed her in the fucking back. She trusted you. She cared for you. She told me no because of how she felt for you. It was wrong to let her down. You fuck with her, you fuck with me.”

  “I can see why you let your guard down for her,” he goes on. “She has the wettest pussy and, not only that, she tastes so fucking good. I mean”—he laughs hoarsely, his throat working hard behind my hand—“I couldn’t get enough, and it wasn’t even supposed to mean anything to me.”

  “I told you to SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Never have I felt so angry. I’ve been tested—by West, taunted by Maurice, hell even my own father, but this… this crosses all boundaries. Knowing another man had his hands on my woman—my Red—and that I could do nothing about it, fucks with me. Rubs me the wrong way. Jealousy. That’s what it is, and I don’t give a fuck if I’m considered petty or selfish for the crime I’m about to commit. In fact, I will enjoy it.

  Savor it.

  Get high off the scent of his blood.

  Nostrils flared and panting, I step back and, without thinking, my gun goes off. His body tumbles to the ground, red mist showering the walls behind him. Greg is on the floor before me, lifeless. My lip twitches as I glare him down as if he’s still alive. My shoulders are hunched, finger still bolted around the trigger. I inhale, shut my eyes for a brief moment, and then exhale, opening them again. Pleased.

  But then, I realize something…

  I’ve fucked up. My gun went off, no suppressor. It was heard. I rush for the rifle and bend down, checking the surroundings of her house. I scan the back, the side, and then front.

  And that’s when I see him.

  And Aden.

  My heart stops beating as I watch Maurice walk down the stoop with his hand on Aden’s shoulder, a gun pointed at his back. Aden isn’t scared because he doesn’t know what’s going on, but if he knew the danger he was in, he’d be terrified.

  Tears threaten me, but I fight them, running down the stairs and out the balcony door. The beach breeze whips at my wet eyes but I keep running, rounding the house and passing the dead bodies until I’ve come face to face with Maurice.

  “Ace!” Aden calls, excited to see me.

  “Ahh, Ace.” Maurice’s tone is lively, almost as if he really is glad to see me as well.

  I hold my hands up, but my eyes are focused on Aden. “I’m here. Let him go,” I demand.

  “I see you’ve been working.” He looks toward the balcony, a smirk forming on his lips. “That’s all my men.”

  “And Greg,” I snarl.

&nbs
p; “Yeah.” He shakes his head, shrugging. “Sucks. Told him to stay inside.”

  “I’ll give you what you want, alright? Just let Aden go, and we can settle this one on one.”

  Maurice laughs, almost demonically. “Do you really think I’m that dumb? I know the game ten times better than you, Ace Crow. What we’re going to do is go into the house. You’re going to write down everything I need to know and give me everything I want, including bank account numbers and pins, and then I’ll consider letting Aden go.” He lifts his gun in the air. “Toss them. All of them.”

  I take my pistol out the holster and toss it near the bushes. I whip the Beretta out of the back of my belt and toss it as well, lifting my hands in the air again. Maurice raises a brow and lowers his pistol, murmuring something in Aden’s ear. His eyes are still hard on me. Once Aden starts to run towards the back of the house, the opposite side of where the deceased men are, I watch him, frowning. “What did you tell him?”

  “Get in the house, Ace,” he snaps.

  Wary, I watch Aden disappear before walking towards the front door and into the house. Maurice shoves me inside, and before I make it to the kitchen, he yanks me around. “Gotta make sure, right?” he smiles, patting me down.

  I stare him in the eyes, teeth bared. “Can’t believe you.”

  He laughs, checking my legs. “Can’t believe myself. But”— he sighs—“it is what it is. Gotta say, though, the business is much better without you. Started getting new clients, all except the ones that were loyal to working with you. Turns out, they’d rather lose business than work with anyone new. Probably the reason London’s big brother died. No one likes to see new faces, huh?”

  “Fuck you,” I spit.

  “Remember Krane?” he asks, forcing me to the kitchen.

  I don’t respond.

  “He was working with me. Made him a bunch of worthless promises. The man was foolish enough to believe them. I knew he’d end up dead the moment you noticed something was off. All that shit with him being angry with Jonah was just a cover up for me. He was bringing the attention to himself like I asked of him.” Gripping my shoulder, he forces me down in the chair, gun pointed at the back of my head. “Told him to make it a big deal, mess up Jonah’s life and friendship with you, get you to focus solely on him and his behavior.” He sighs. “You looked at Jonah in a different way… like you saw potential for him to be the next to run Crow. I couldn’t have that so,” he murmurs in my ear, “I made sure Krane ruined his chances. The plan wasn’t for him to die, but, you know, shit happens in this tricky business of ours. Your men are weak. Terribly weak.”