Grievous

  She stares at it for a second before snatching it from my hand, taking a big swallow, enough to make her grimace.

  She seems nervous, looking around at the guys... not worried so much as maybe feeling vulnerable. I offer her the joint, which she happily takes, waving her off when she tries to give it back.

  “Keep it,” I say, retrieving another one from my tin and lighting it. “I’ve got more.”

  I kick my feet up, planting them on each side of her on the coffee table, penning her in between my legs. The guys are laughing, joking around, bullshitting, acting like their usual selves, which helps Scarlet relax a bit.

  Seems she thought they’d treat her differently, but they won’t. They’re not like that. I wouldn’t let them in my house, around my brother, if I thought they might be the backstabbing variety. They’d seen no more than thirty seconds of the DVD, and it had gotten every single one of them furious beyond words, tense and on edge and ready to kill someone for it.

  It doesn’t take long before smoke fills the room, my eyes bloodshot, burning, as my muscles tingle. I feel like I’m floating, sky fucking high, a sense of euphoria settling into my chest.

  I feel no pain.

  It’s nice not having a jackhammer going off in my head for once.

  Doesn’t last long, though.

  Headlights flash as a car pulls into the driveway. Seven gets up to look, glancing out the window, saying, “Looks like Declan... and a woman.”

  And a woman.

  Eyes turn to me, awaiting my reaction, but I just sit here, not doing a damn thing yet. Three barrels his way on into the house, dragging a skinny little brunette along with him, red high heels clattering along the floor as she drags her feet. She doesn’t look happy to be here. Quite the opposite. He pulls her into the living room, shoving her in front of him. Her terrified gaze skitters around, settling on Scarlet, her dark eyes widening with recognition. Uh-oh.

  Scarlet averts her gaze, turning her back to the girl, staring down at her hands as she picks at the chipped red polish on her fingernails.

  “Fellas,” Three says casually, greeting everyone, his attention turning my way. “Boss.”

  The guys mumble in response.

  “Nice of you to join us,” I say, studying the woman. “I see you’ve brought a guest along.”

  “Yeah, this is, uh... shit.” Three snaps his fingers, like he’s trying to remember, before giving up and nudging her. “Tell them who you are.”

  “Alexis,” the girl says, her voice shaking.

  “That’s it! Sexy Lexie...” Three grins, like he’s proud of himself for remembering that nickname. “Lexie works down at Limerence. I ended up in a basement because of her.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says right away, looking back at him. “I told you, I—”

  “You didn’t have a choice,” Three says, cutting her off. “Yeah, I know, I heard you.”

  “I didn’t want to do it,” she says defensively. “I swear I didn’t. I like you, Declan. You’ve always been so nice, but Mr. Aristov—”

  “Is your boss,” Three says, again cutting her off before he looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “You hear that? She works for the Russian.”

  “I heard,” I say.

  “I don’t have a choice,” she whispers, eyes turning to me.

  “We know,” Three says, putting his hand on her shoulder. “What Aristov says goes—no ifs, ands, or buts about it, huh? He tells you to fuck someone, you do it, no question. Get on your knees for him? You’ll do that, too, like a good little girl. He tells you to put something in somebody’s drink, to drug them, and you don’t hesitate, huh? You’ll do whatever he says. He makes the rules.”

  The more Three talks, the more the woman looks like she wants to collapse... but she’s not the only one. Scarlet tenses, and before the last syllable is even from Three’s lips, her voice cuts in. “That’s enough.”

  Everyone looks at her.

  “That’s enough,” Scarlet says again. “We get it. Just... leave her alone.”

  Gazes shift to me, again awaiting my reaction. You see, around here, I make the rules, and they don’t follow orders unless they come from my mouth.

  “Get to the point,” I say, motioning for Three to continue. “I’m sure you mother taught you not to play with your food.”

  Three squeezes the woman’s shoulder as he leans closer to her, saying, “Tell them what you told me about your boss, Lexie.”

  The woman opens her mouth before closing it again, over and over.

  “Just spit it out, Tweety Bird,” I say. “Tell me what the Puddy-Tat did.”

  “He has these parties at his house sometimes, him and the guys that work for him... they get together and some of the girls are brought in, but they don’t always come back out. Sometimes... well, sometimes...”

  “Sometimes they’re never seen again?”

  She nods, taking a moment, not continuing until Three nudges her once more. “A few months ago, I went to one of his parties. I didn’t want to, but none of us really do. He’s been... different. Colder. And we knew... we heard he found Morgan.” Her gaze shifts to Scarlet, her voice dropping lower. “They told us he found you, that he killed you. We all thought you were dead.”

  Scarlet’s bottom lip trembles, but otherwise, she doesn’t react, still not looking at the woman.

  “Hey, yo, eyes on me,” I say, snapping my finger, getting the woman’s attention again. “As much as I’m thrilled by story hour, I need you to get to the point before my high wears off and I stop listening.”

  “There was a girl there,” she blurts out, “a little girl. His daughter. She was there. He’s been keeping her out of sight, so none of us even knew she was around, but she drew him a picture and she wanted to give it to him, so she snuck downstairs.”

  “You saw her?”

  She nods.

  “She was okay?”

  She nods again.

  I glance at Scarlet, wondering how she’s taking this, but she’s just sitting, listening in silence, still picking at her fingernails.

  “Well, I appreciate you chirping for us, Birdie,” I say, looking back at the woman as I sit up, my left hand coming to rest on Scarlet’s knee. “Truly. It’s been enlightening. So thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispers.

  “You got anything else you want to share?” I reach into my waistband and pull out my gun, cocking it and aiming it at her. “Any parting words?”

  Three jumps back a few steps, moving away, because he knows my aim is shit and if he stands too close, he’s liable to get shot. Besides, I think he’s still traumatized from being splattered with brain matter last time. The woman tenses as terror rushes through her. I can see it, the horror in her eyes, her body trembling. She doesn’t raise her hands, doesn’t move, staring straight at me, but the floodgates open. Tears coat her cheeks, words spewing from her lips.

  “Please, don’t do this,” she cries. “Please... I’m begging you... you don’t have to do this!”

  “But I do,” I say. “I let you walk out of here, you run back to your boss, and then what? Huh? I’ll tell you what—you’ll spill your guts.”

  “I won’t,” she says. “I swear. I’d never. Morgan... please... Morgan, tell him.”

  Scarlet squeezes her eyes shut.

  “Boss,” Three chimes in as he takes a step back toward the woman. The second he does, I aim the gun at him instead. At least he has the sense to raise his hands. “Maybe you don’t have to do this...”

  “You brought her to my house, Three,” I say. “You know better. Maybe I should be shooting you for this.”

  “But maybe you don’t have to shoot anyone,” he says. “She’s an in. We can use her somehow.”

  “How?”

  Three blanks when I ask that.

  Might be the gun pointed at him.

  Hard to think while that’s happening.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Pressure’s on, motherfucker.

  “N
ext month,” the woman blurts out. “There’s another party. I can go. I’ll volunteer. I can help you, whatever you need me to do. I’ll do it. I swear.”

  “See?” Three says. “Problem solved.”

  Problem not solved, contrary to what he thinks.

  He just made it domino into a whole host of other problems for me. Slowly, though, I lower the gun, taking the bullet out of the chamber, my finger leaving the trigger. “Fine.”

  Three lowers his hands.

  “This is on you, though,” I warn him. “She fucks me, I fuck you... and I mean that in every sense of that word, Three. I will fuck you while fucking you, so you better keep an eye on her.”

  “I will,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

  I slip the gun back away, waving him off. “Get her out of my house before I change my mind and kill you both.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  He grabs her shoulder, pulling her away, dragging her back out of the house just like he dragged her in. Grabbing the bottle of liquor, I take a big swig before slamming it back down on the coffee table beside Scarlet.

  “Well, that was something, huh?” Five asks, shoving to his feet. “We ought to go, too, make sure he’s not fucking us all up too much here.”

  “Yeah, you go do that,” I say, scrubbing my hands down my face with frustration. Pussy-blind. That’s Three, without a doubt. He’s going to get himself killed over a woman. “Keep in touch.”

  The guys filter out, although Seven lingers.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Seven says. “This whole thing... it’s a big risk. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “About as sure as I usually am, Seven.”

  Which means not sure at all.

  I’m just making shit up as I go here.

  Nodding, like he’s not surprised, Seven walks out, leaving Scarlet and I alone. My head is starting to pound again, throbbing building up in my skull behind my eye, colored splotches marring my vision. Fuck. Hunching over, elbows on my knees, I lace my hands together at the back of my neck, closing my eyes as I lower my head.

  The last thing I need right now is a migraine.

  Right away, I feel something, a tingle along my scalp, rugged fingernails scratching as Scarlet’s fingers run through my hair, sending a chill down my spine.

  I can’t help it.

  I moan.

  “Fuck, that feels good.”

  Scarlet laughs lightly and keeps on doing what she’s doing, gently stroking my hair, the sensation damn near putting me to sleep. Voodoo, I swear... I’ll never not believe it.

  The woman’s touch is witchcraft.

  It’s a sin to give in, but seeing as sinning is my specialty, I let her dark magic consume me, because what do I have to lose? My head? I want to chop the fucking thing off most nights, anyway.

  I’m jolted eventually, eyes snapping open, head darting up as noise echoes through the house. I look up, blurry eyes going straight to my brother as he appears in the doorway with his girlfriend. I must’ve dozed off, maybe just for a second, because the sudden movement makes me dizzy.

  I lower my head again, covering my face with my hands as everything starts to spin.

  “Hey, Morgan,” Leo says. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  Scarlet’s hand grips my thigh as she turns around. “Yeah, I was a bit indisposed.”

  “Good to have you back,” he says. “Is, uh... is he okay?”

  “Uh, yeah... sure.”

  “I can answer for myself,” I grumble. “I’m right here, you know.”

  “I’m well aware,” Leo says. “Rough night?”

  “Rough life,” I counter, looking up at him, grateful everything stays still. “I’ll survive.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Leo says, frowning, glancing at his little firecracker, who looks extremely nervous right now for some reason.

  I sit up straight. “What is it? Spit it out.”

  Leo hesitates. “We found an apartment.”

  “You found an apartment.”

  “Yes, in Manhattan... Midtown. It’s kind of small, just one bedroom, but it’s got a great view. We put in an application. I think we’ve got a good shot.”

  He stares at me, like he expects me to have more to say, but seeing as there are more than a million apartments in New York City, this isn’t exactly shocking news that they found one, is it?

  Any schmuck with a few bucks could find an apartment if he wanted one.

  Sighing, I stand up, snatching up the bottle of rum as I move past Scarlet, strolling out of the living room. I pause near the foyer, looking at my little brother... not so little anymore, frankly. I’ve only got about two inches on him and maybe ten pounds, but maturity wise, he surpassed me long ago, with his pretty blonde girlfriend and his bullshit job and now his inky-dinky apartment that probably overlooks Times Square.

  “Congratulations,” I say, heading for the stairs.

  “Seriously, bro? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “What do you want me to say, Pretty Boy? That I hope you’re not allergic to cockroaches, because God knows with what you make you’re probably splitting the fucking rent with thousands of them.”

  “Ah, yes...” Leo throws his hands up. “There it is.”

  “Rats, too. And fucking bums. Good thing Firecracker has had practice with people listening to you fuck her every night, so the paper-thin walls and nosey neighbors won’t be a problem, huh?”

  I start up the stairs, my footsteps heavy, hearing my brother mutter, “I knew you’d have something shitty to say about it.”

  “Of course you did. Of course I would, right? Not like I’m a decent person.” I laugh dryly. “Only spent the past twenty fucking years taking care of you after your piece-of-shit parents tried to put me in the ground.”

  He says something in response.

  I don’t know. I’m not listening anymore.

  I make my way to my bedroom, guzzling rum, and slam the bottle on the dresser before falling into the bed on my back. I stare up at the ceiling fan, watching as it goes round and round, hoping it’ll lull me to sleep, but I’m tense and wound tight.

  I want to kill something.

  I want to fuck someone.

  I want to fuck someone after I kill something.

  “He doesn’t deserve that, you know.”

  Scarlet’s voice is matter-of-fact. She’s standing in the doorway. I didn’t hear her follow me, but I’m not surprised she did.

  “What I’m hearing here,” I say, “is that I do deserve this.”

  “That’s not what I said,” she argues, stepping into the room. “You’re only pretending to listen again.”

  “I heard you, Scarlet, loud and clear.”

  “You only heard what you wanted to hear, Lorenzo. You didn’t hear what I said.”

  “I’m reading between the lines.”

  “No, you’re twisting shit,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I hate to break this to you, and you might not like it, but the sun doesn’t rise because of you every morning. You’re not this all-powerful entity the world revolves around. Not everything has to do with you. Leo, he’s got hopes and dreams, and he deserves to be able to follow them without you pissing all over things.”

  “Look, can we not do this?” I ask, throwing my arm over my face as I close my eyes, because her running her mouth is getting in the way of the ceiling fan doing what it’s supposed to do. “Let’s just skip the part where we argue over bullshit, like we actually give a fuck about each other, because I’m not in the mood for it tonight.”

  “You’re an asshole,” she grumbles, lying down beside me, close enough to touch but we’re not touching. She feels miles away right now, coldness settling in that space between us.

  “Yeah, well, at least you know...”

  “Yeah, and it’s a pity, really, because I found myself starting to give a fuck about you.”

  She says nothing else.

  I don’t sa
y anything, either.

  We lay there in silence.

  For once, I don’t prefer it.

  I want her to say something else, anything else, just to erase those words now assaulting my mind.

  I found myself starting to give a fuck about you.

  I don’t like it, not at all, because as she says those words, I come to realize, in the moment, that feeling might be mutual.

  “When’s the last time you slept?”

  That question is like nails on a chalkboard. It’s like Jim Carey in Dumb & Dumber. It’s like a boojie little blonde talking about her fucking wardrobe.

  It grates on my every nerve.

  I twitch at the sound of it.

  Seven stands beside me in the old warehouse, eyeing me with caution, awaiting an answer to his question. It’s approaching noon, and we’ve unloaded a few crates, a truck coming in this morning with the guns for one of Jameson’s connections. I couldn’t get ahold of Three, but Five showed up in his place, a fact that also irritates me.

  “This morning,” I tell him, leaving out the fact that it wasn’t for more than an hour. I had too much on my mind. “You gonna ask me about my feelings next, doc? Maybe prescribe me a tranquilizer to keep the nightmares at bay?”

  “I’m just looking out for you,” he says, not at all ruffled by my attitude.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t need my hand held, thanks,” I say, snatching up a crowbar to pop the top off of a crate, figuring I’ll just inventory it all myself.

  I left Scarlet at home, in bed, asleep.

  She could probably use the extra money, but I need some space to clear my head so I can try to think straight when it comes to all of this. There’s work to be done, things that need handled, and I can’t be worrying about the people around me when I need to be concerned about the ones standing in my way.

  My phone rings as I start sorting through the guns. I pull it from my pocket, glancing at the screen. Three. I hand it to Seven, saying, “Deal with this bastard before I kill him.”

  Seven nods, taking the phone and answering it, saying everything that needs to be said, minus the threats I’d be spewing if I had to deal with him directly. He lectures the kid like he’s his fucking father, which is kind of funny, you know.