The house sits on a massive lot, right in the middle of the city. There are no rolling hills or manicured lawns here, just the flat, paved surroundings of what used to be a three-block, government-owned housing project.
“This seems a little extravagant for the South Side,” I say, getting out of the BMW. I’m hedging, and chances are, she knows it. From the nervous look on her face, she won’t call me out on it. Folding my sunglasses, I tuck them into my coat, adjusting my shirt cuffs.
Yes, I know exactly what this property is.
But she plays along. “GussyZ built it for his mother. You know, the rapper? He grew up right here, and after he made it big, his mother refused to move. So he razed the apartment complex he grew up in, and built this monstrosity on top of it.” The agent shakes her head, admiring the building. “Too bad about that tax lien. Government seized it and now it’s up for auction.”
“Too bad for him. Perfect for me.” I haven’t been keeping an eye on this like I should, so I missed the lien, but the location couldn’t be better. Sprawling lot, plenty of rooms, nestled deep in the seedy underbelly of South Side. My territory.
I’d been skeptical when she set the meeting. Not only has Leslie been skimming tens of thousands a month off my rental income, but she’s ripe to turn informant, too. She thinks I don’t know about the skimming, but I can see in her eyes that she worries. As she should. Given half the opportunity, this woman would bury a blade in my back and smile while doing it. It’s often the case with women.
Despite that, she really brought me her best today. Staking a claim in this and moving my venture to the next level is the right step for my enterprise.
When she enters the code in the front door, I can see her hand shaking. It’s merely a small tremble, but my eyes don’t miss anything. I should put her out of her misery, but I decide to watch her fumble for the time being.
When the lock engages, I swoop in, amused by her frightened flinch, and hold the door open for her, the gold inlay on my ring glinting in the daylight.
She gives me an anxious look and scurries through the entrance.
“How many bedrooms?” I ask, taking in the space. The floor is a bold, inlaid mosaic of a medallion, with marble pillars standing proudly on either side of the staircase. The chandelier hanging above is gold and crystal. Tall, two-story archways invite one to enter a sitting room to our left.
It’s tacky and ostentatious.
“Ten,” she answers, eyes apprehensive.
In short, it’s perfect.
“Baths?”
“Eleven full,” she adds, pushing her shoulders back. Yes. You find that spine, sweetheart. “Three half.”
I hum, shoes clicking on the marble as I walk the space. “And an in-law suite downstairs?” I turn to her, noting the way her eyes widen.
She realizes I already know, but still answers, “Yes.”
“Good.” I nod, lacing my fingers behind my back. “I have some property I’ve been meaning to repossess. The old bat will need living quarters.” Turning to her, I add, “Good job, Leslie.”
She looks like she might have a heart attack, her shoulders deflating, chest expanding with a relieved gulp of air. Despite that, she smiles at me, so grateful that it almost makes me wish I’d held out a little longer. “Thank you, sir. I knew as soon as I saw it on the wire that you’d want it.”
I walk through the main floor, making a few notes on my phone. “We’ll need a full bar over here.” I gesture to the back wall. “A sitting area out by the pool would be nice. Tell me about the underground garage. My clients require discretion.”
She nods obediently. “Yes, sir. It includes a back access from the alley and the doors work on a sensor. With a little rigging, it could—”
The phone chimes in my hand, an email notification popping up on the screen. The moment I see it, I tune Leslie out. I blink, sure I’m reading it wrong.
Email Notification: Sweet Cherry.
I keep my voice calm and calculated. “Excuse me,” I say, blood thrumming as I walk from the room and escape outside. My head swims with anticipation, heart pounding an urgent rhythm. Three years since I’ve heard from this one. Three years since she slipped through my fingers.
I swipe it open and stare at the message title: It’s gone.
I’m half-convinced it’s a prank. Likely, those cocky little bastards she’s hiding with found out about me and thought this would be a fun way to fuck around. That’s okay. I’ve been preparing for how to deal with them.
Then I see the message.
What are you going to do about it?
It’s a crisp photo, the contents unmistakable. It’s a bed with white sheets, pristine if not for the stain sitting stark against the paleness. Blood. From the dark dampness that surrounds it, probably some semen, too. Blood and semen and her arousal.
Oh, Story…
I’m looking at the remnants of her cherry.
There’s a man’s hand curled up next to it, wrist dark with tattoos. He’s wearing a gold ring in the shape of a distinctive skull. I don’t need to zoom in to see the ‘LDZ’ engraved within it.
It’s the same ring as my own, after all.
I turn off the phone, knowing who it is and what he’s done. I grind my teeth, trying to shove the crazed hurricane of anger back into my chest. Just for now. Just until I can make a move.
But it’s hard, imagining those hands on my sweet young Lady. Knowing he’s taken what belongs to me. Knowing that he’s defiled her, tainted her, forced his dirtiness inside her. I tried to warn her. This world is a machine. The cogs turn, making it spin, and the wheel never stops. It takes a woman and turns her into a whore. Unclean. Polluted. Impure.
If the Lords think I’ll let that happen to her, then they are sorely mistaken.
Storming back through the door, my head is still full of the sight of those sheets. I wonder how it happened. Did he tear his way inside? Did he fuck her like an animal? Did he stretch those greedy lips into a smile as he defiled what’s rightfully mine?
Leslie turns when I approach, fumbling with her folders, so eager to regale me with more details that she misses the gun I pull from my coat.
I raise the barrel and put three bullets into her head.
As she falls to the floor, the sound of gunshots still ringing against the marble, I draw in a feral, steeling breath, soaking in the silence.
Yes, that’s better.
My vengeance has never been swift, but it’s always absolute and without mercy.
The Lords are about to discover just how true that is.
