WEST
Unfortunately for Vin, I know exactly where to find him. He always pulls late nights at the office when he has a new client dangling on the line. So, he’s distracted, alone, and has no clue I’m coming for him.
Parking a few blocks away, I’m on foot now, sticking to alleys when I can, and keeping my hood up and my head down when I can’t. Punching in the access code I’ve had for years, I bypass security and slip in through the back door, taking six flights of stairs up to the executive suites. Using another memorized code, I ease into the hallway and let the door close gently behind me. There’s a plan in place, but mostly, I’m sick of this shit and looking to end Vin’s reign in Cypress Pointe.
Double glass doors are all that separate me from the main area of the suites, so I open them silently and slip inside crouching low just in case. This entire floor is pitch black except for exit signs that glow red near the ceiling, and the sliver of light that seeps from underneath Vin’s door. I creep toward it, then pause to listen to the tail end of a phone conversation once I’m close enough. As soon as the call ends, I breathe deep, then barge in.
“Shit, West. What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, relaxing behind his desk now that he sees it’s only me.
Little does he know, now’s not the time to let his guard down.
“Just thought you should hear it from me,” I say. “First thing in the morning, I’m going to the media. Pretty sure they’d be interested in hearing the shit you’ve been into lately.”
He smirks, pretending to have no idea what I’m talking about. When he relaxes deeper into his seat and folds his hands together, I know he’s just trying to throw me off.
“Feeling okay? You’re not making much sense.”
“I’m done fucking around. I know about the ledger.”
When those words leave my mouth, the smile leaves his. The mask he hides behind is beginning to crack and just like that, I’m no longer speaking to my father. I’m talking to Vin Golden.
“Ledger?”
“Cut the bullshit. I heard you and Mom arguing about it before Christmas, the night of the charity event. I know it holds the names of southside girls who’ve gone missing, and what they were sold for.”
He lowers his gaze but doesn’t look worried. “These are some serious allegations you’re making, West.”
“And I wouldn’t be making them if I weren’t sure they’re true. And I’m also pretty sure your partner would love to hear about this mess you’ve made, exposing the operation,” I add, earning his full attention with those words. “And speaking of this partner, I wonder how the people of Cypress Pointe will feel knowing the interesting familial connection of the man who hopes to be their next mayor?”
Vin freezes, in shock from what I’ve just alluded to, and it feels damn good to have the upper hand for once. He knows I’m on to him, knows I know his deepest, darkest secrets.
Still a bit too calm for my liking, he stands and braces his fingers on the desk while peering up.
“This is that damn girl, isn’t it? She’s in your head again.”
“We broke up a week ago,” I lie. “I’m here because I know what you’re doing and I’m not a fucking kid anymore. You can’t buy me off with ice cream and threats that I’ll break Mom’s heart. I think we both know you’ve got her right where you want her—mindless and weak.”
He’s silent, still eyeing the desk instead of looking up at me.
“What the fuck do you want to come of this?” he asks through gritted teeth. “It can’t be money because I give you boys every fucking thing you could ever ask for, handed you these charmed lives on a platter and it still isn’t enough.”
His voice is a deep growl now, which means he’s losing his cool.
“Money and things might be enough to keep Mom quiet, but that’s her. Not me. I don’t sleep easy knowing you’ve done God-knows-what with those girls, knowing their families are torn apart, knowing the money in our bank accounts likely came from some damn trafficking ring.”
I’m sick even saying those words out loud.
“Watch your damn mouth,” he snaps, glaring at me.
Up until this moment, he’s tried to hide his hatred for me, but I see it clear as day now. Something I’ve recently figured out is that he loves the image of me—how I dominate on the football field, how before Blue I had my pick of any girl I wanted, how people revere me as some sort of god in the flesh. He loved that image because it added to his. Made him seem like a superior father. It’s the reason he came down so hard on me about my reputation, because it could reflect poorly on him.
It’s never been about me, my brothers, or even Mom.
It’s always been about Vin.
“I’m done sitting on this,” I say. “As soon as we’re done here, I’m taking everything I know to the authorities.”
“You think it’ll be that easy?” he asks with a smirk. “This city worships the ground I walk on, West. And these authorities you seem to think will side with you and bring me down, I’ve got half of them on the docket already. So, tell me, Son, what’s that plan of yours again? I’d love to have another listen.”
There it is, that look that says he thinks he’s won, but I’ve got something else to lay on him.
“My plan is to show these to the press, the police, and anyone else who’ll listen.”
He’s still grinning for about half a second when first glancing down at my screen. Then, the look is wiped clean off his face.
“These pics are interesting, don’t you think? A friend sent them earlier today because she figured I might be interested in getting a closer look at where our fortune comes from.”
There’s fire and brimstone in his eyes, and I know he’s fully prepared to unleash all hell on me right now.
“Every dollar I’ve ever earned comes from me working incredibly damn hard,” he snaps. “All for what? So you can drag the Golden name through the mud? I don’t fucking think so,” he growls.
Continuing to hold his gaze, I ignore the outburst and show him more. I slide from one image to the next, the first of which being his goon’s recent visit to Dusty’s Diner, snapped at the precise moment he grabs Southside by her wrist. Next up is another of the same man climbing out of Vin’s SUV. No, it isn’t spelled out what their business is together, but it does establish a connection between the two. The pic that follows is a snapshot of the same guy parked in a creepy van outside South Cypress High, either looking for his next prospect or keeping tabs on Scar. And as if this isn’t already enough, Pandora’s managed to get several of the same guy on many different days, headed into and out of a gated storage facility located on the edge of the city.
Knowing Vin’s practically untouchable, a ghost, it’s clear Pandora focused on the next best thing—his righthand man. Low and behold, keeping tabs on him led to a slew of incriminating evidence that links Vin to everything.
Ricky needed time to work on his uncle this evening, so I made myself useful by doing a bit of research while I waited. Turns out that storage facility in the pic was recently sold and acquired by a fledgling investment company with very little info on the web. Didn’t take me long to connect something about that business to Vin, and it’s all in the name of the parent company under which this new LLC is nestled: Saint Delphine—the parish where my mother was born and raised.
I’ve learned something valuable about my father. No matter what level of success he reaches, no matter how high he climbs, his guilt is the one thing he can never seem to outrun. Having betrayed my mother in every way imaginable, he habitually scatters bits and pieces of her throughout his world. Now, it’s finally come back to bite him.
In a nutshell, we’ve got his ass cornered.
“Your friend’s been a little sloppy,” I point out. “My guess is these pics prove there are a few too many coincidences to ignore. At least, that’s what I’m betting the detective will think. I’m also willing to bet furniture isn’t what you’re hiding at that storage facility, but we’ll all know the truth by the end of the night, won’t we?”
He doesn’t answer of course, and having effectively silenced him, my work here is done.
I turn to leave, but the moment my back’s to him, the sound of footsteps has me on high-alert. Mostly because they’re moving a bit too quickly, a bit too urgently as they come closer. His forearm locks around my throat from behind and he squeezes, blocking any air from getting through. In a way, this is my fault for letting my guard down, for turning my back and thinking he still looked at me as his son. With what I’ve just revealed, he only sees me as a threat.
And everyone knows what Vin’s solution is for snuffing out threats—he gets rid of them.
A loud grunt belts out when I jab my elbow just below his ribs, forcing his grip to loosen enough that I’m able to break free. Before he can recover from the hit, I sink my fist in his gut.
There’s no bridling my rage at this point. I’m seeing red, remembering every fucked up thing he’s ever done. From the shit I witnessed as a kid, to his threats toward Southside. It’s snowballed, causing me to lose all sense of reasoning.
I cock back again, but this time aiming higher, enjoying the satisfying squelch of my fist connecting with his face. Half a second later, blood’s gushing from his nose and down his lips, but he’s still on his feet, still looking for a fight.
A slow, disoriented punch whips through the air and he misses, but I sure as hell don’t. Following the distinct thud of the punch I just buried in his gut, air sputters from his lungs. I step back, staring at this bloody piece of shit I used to think could do no wrong.
“I fucking hate you. And with any luck, someone’ll kill your ass in prison and we’ll all breathe a little easier knowing you’re not breathing at all. And for what it’s worth, no one will miss you. Not even a little.”
I hold his gaze a few seconds longer, making sure he knows I mean every word of it as he stares, struggling to catch his breath. I turn to leave with my heart set on ending this shit, but the sound of a gun cocking behind me stops me in my tracks.
“I can’t let you do this,” he threatens. “I’ve worked too hard to build an empire, a legacy, and I can’t just let you take all that away.”
Other than my chest moving as I breathe, I stay completely still. He sounds unhinged and I don’t doubt for one second that he’ll pull that trigger.
“If you’d just… minded your damn business, none of this would’ve happened,” he insists.
I have a response, but it isn’t wise to speak right now.
It’s true what they say, though. As you stare death in the face, your whole life flashes before your eyes. But what they don’t tell you is that your future does, too.
I picture it, a life spent with the only girl I’ve ever loved—her on our wedding day, carrying her over the threshold of our first home together, holding her on the couch as three little ones who look just like us rush in and end the quiet moment with laughter. I see it all with her. I want it all with her. But as Vin’s steps carry him closer and I spot a reflection of the gun he aims at my head, I’m not so sure I’ll ever get there.
My eyes fall closed and I’m trying to make peace with this, because I don’t see any way out of it, but damn if the idea of life ending right here, right now, doesn’t sting like hell. Leaving Southside behind, my brothers, my mom…
“I’m sorry,” he says, but remorse is the one thing I don’t hear in his voice.
Rage, on the other hand, I hear that loud and clear.
I’ve never been one to pray, but this seems like a good time to start. So, that’s what I do—pray for a miracle, pray for Vin to have a change of heart.
Something.
Anything.
“Might not wanna do that, Daddy Warbucks.”
My eyes dart toward the sound of a voice, but with cool steel pressed to my head, I’m still hesitant to feel relieved. Standing in the doorway with the barrel of a gun aimed straight at Vin, is Ricky—hidden beneath a dark ski mask and hood to hide his identity. He was also smart enough to disguise his voice a little, for the sake of fully protecting his identity.
“What the fuck took you so long?” I ask.
His eyes stay trained on Vin. “Guess you could say I like to make an entrance,” he teases. “You tell him yet?”
I’m still a bit traumatized by the idea of a bullet passing through my skull, so I shake my head instead of speaking.
“Tell me what?” Vin asks through gritted teeth.
“Well, allow me,” Ricky begins. “You’re not the only one with connections. A friend of ours offered us her platform so we could livestream your recording debut. Wave to the camera. There’s one attached to the front of your son’s hoodie and one on the back pocket of his jeans. They’re tiny motherfuckers, so I can understand how you missed it. But one thing’s for damn sure… no one missed a single thing you did or said here tonight. All of Cypress Pointe got to meet the real Vin Golden for the first time ever, so take a bow, bitch,” he adds with a laugh.
“Who the fuck are you?” Vin roars. “Tell me your fucking name!”
Still laughing, Ricky shrugs. “All you need to know is I’m the man with a gun pointed at your head and very few reasons not to pull this damn trigger.”
Vin’s speechless, but I hear his heavy breaths loud and clear.
“Figured you’d settle down,” Ricky adds. “But I had a thought. Tonight would be the perfect time for you to tell everyone your big plans, Vin! The city deserves to know who their next mayor could be, right?”
Ricky’s enjoying this shit a little too much.
“Why are you doing this?” Vin adds quietly, like he’s the fucking victim here.
“Pretty sure people are more interested in why you’re holding a gun to your son’s head,” Ricky points out.
In the reflection, I see Vin lowering his weapon, wiping away some of the blood that’s drained down his chin.
“Drop it and kick it over here,” Ricky demands.
Vin eyes him for a moment, and likely considers that there’s a camera pointed on him when he cooperates the next second. Ricky nods and I know it’s finally safe to move.
I stand there, watching as Vin slowly backs toward his desk, eventually cowering on the other side of it.
“This is, uh… this isn’t at all what it seems,” he insists. “We’ve all had family squabbles that have gotten out of hand. This is nothing more than that.”
I’ve got absolutely nothing to say as I stare at him, this man who’s been nothing short of a terrorist.
In this town.
Within our family.
My entire life, I’ve never seen Vin look defeated, but there’s no other way to describe the expression on his face now. He drops down into his seat and doesn’t even glance this way.
Five silhouettes moving through the darkness just outside the office catch my eye, and as planned, I kill both body cams right before Detective Roby and the four officers he’s brought with him step in. I’d never seen him face-to-face, and only had one conversation with him that took place this afternoon. However, Ricky and I knew we’d likely need some bailing out after going live on Pandora’s account, and it’s clear we made the right move asking him to come.
Roby walks closer and I get a better look at him. He’s middle-aged, brown-skinned, with bits of gray at his temples and in his beard. There’s a look set in his eyes that says he’s seen more than most, understands more about this city than most.
He passes a reassuring look toward me first, and then to Ricky. “I’ll take things from here.”
After that, he does something unexpected when he shoots Ricky an inconspicuous look, nodding as he mouths the words, “You need to go.”
Southside told me these two have history, but it’s different seeing it in action, I guess. He obviously wants Ricky to be in the clear before anyone else sees him. Someone who’d want to question his involvement, or maybe someone who’d want him dead—considering the consequences he could face if he’s found out. Still, knowing all of this, he came through in the clutch tonight.
All because of his love for Southside.
With that, Ricky shoots me a look, tucks the gun into the back of his jeans, then takes off faster than I’ve seen anyone run who wasn’t hustling a ball down the field. Roby, flanked by the other officers, moves toward Vin’s desk, removing a set of cuffs while kicking aside the gun that’s still lying on the floor.
“My name’s detective Roby,” he announces. “Gonna need to see both your hands on the desk, Mr. Golden.”
Vin peers up with defiance in his eyes, but after taking note of the officers’ hands on their guns, he complies. Roby reads him his rights as I stare—only half believing what’s happening before my eyes. Cypress Pointe’s most powerful man, most dangerous man, has just been brought to his knees.
“Let’s go. It’s gonna be a long night,” Roby sighs, before glancing toward me. “And we’ll need to get a statement from you, too, son. More of my guys are on their way up to clean this place out, see what interesting things we can find,” he adds, definitely enjoying that part.
Vin doesn’t respond as he’s led toward the door, but I don’t miss how he glares. A narcissist can never see their wrongs, so I’m sure in his mind, this is my fault.
Lucky for me, I don’t give a fuck.
While the detective isn’t looking, I flip Vin off and smile, hoping he knows that whatever comes next for me will be so much better.
Because he’s gone.
Fucking finally.
