I stand at the door and knock three times. Waiting. I hate fucking waiting. If she would come back home, I wouldn’t have to.
Kaston answers, dressed casual in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I’m still not used to the no suit thing he’s had going on for a while now. “Kross,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I raise a brow, still staring at the hand I’ve rarely shaken. It’s an oddity to me and one I only do on occasion and by force. “How long has it been? You’re becoming too normal. I don’t like it. Go kill something. We clicked for a reason.”
He laughs and leans into the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was ‘normal’ when we met, years ago in Spain. The only things I knew back then were hot girls, fast cars, and private school. My father was the mass murderer, in case you have forgotten with his passing. Did you also forget that at one time I was a detective and not an assassin? We were not on the same sides of the law, my friend.”
“Yeah, but I knew back then you had it in you. Why else would anyone want to learn the law from front to back coming from a family of killers? You know you like it too much to quit. You don’t just up and decide to be an honorable, law-abiding citizen. Tell me, how does Lux like this newfound family man?”
He rubs his stubble. “She’ll get used to it. She needs stability.”
“Or you could just be the man she fell in love with . . .”
His smile returns. “I thought you didn’t know anything about love?”
“I don’t. Just stating the obvious.”
“Oh, I think you’re figuring it out just fine. You’ve had a lot of extra time lately. You have become part of the nightly landscape on my security camera. I don’t think I’m the only one trying out ‘normal’.”
“If stalking is normal, then I guess so, but I’m just on a short break if you’re referring to business. Things need to get back in order first. Something of mine is missing. Speaking of, where’s Delta? I need to see her. I have plans. Don’t give me shit. At least I came to the front door and knocked.”
“And here I was thinking you were here to take me up on that double date offer. I’m going to assume from the extra estrogen I have in and out of my house that you chose to close for New Year’s Eve and Day?”
“Might as well. Then I don’t have to listen to my bitching artists complain about not getting good spots for the countdown throughout the city. Business is good enough it won’t affect anything. And not a fucking chance. From the looks of you we wouldn’t like the same kinds of dates.”
He goes for his back pocket and pulls out tickets, fanning them out to show the four in his hand for a New Year’s Eve event located in one of the big hotels in the city. “Good, then the two of you can come with us to this. Lux wants to go out. Open bar. Multiple ballrooms for use. Biggest DJs in the city. Party favors. I booked two rooms so you couldn’t say no. I am not going to be the only grown man doing this shit. It sounds a lot like college parties, but these you have to pay for. I shelled out a half a grand for this shit, not including the rooms. I could get drunk a hell of a lot cheaper at home and chase my girl around naked if I wanted to, but she wants to dress up and go out. Damn cabin fever or something. Fuck if I know. I wasn’t totally listening. She was rambling with her tits hanging out. Lesson of the day: female friends equal mutual interests. It appears we like the same type of dates after all.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I already had plans.”
“Not if they include Delta. Lux invited her. She agreed when she knew the tickets were already purchased.”
“Dammit, Kaston. How the fuck am I supposed to get her to come back home if we have to tag along with you two? She can’t drink. My uncontrollable cock knocked her up in case you have forgotten. She’s not going to have fun being around a bunch of drunk people. I had a surprise for her and then I was going to take her to Underground Atlanta to watch the Peach Drop. That seems more our style. At some point, I have to learn how to do this relationship shit . . .”
I turn around and take a frustrated breath, looking out across the lawn, my fingers lacing on top of my head. “Because I’m sick of living without her. You started this. It was you that night that planted seeds in my head. I had been ignoring it for months just fine. Now, it’s done. She’s supposed to be with me. She’s going to be with me. I need her. My inner psycho is dangerous with her gone. I can’t think straight. My anger is out of control.”
“Sounds like love to me . . .”
I turn around. “Is this your way of telling me these feelings don’t go away? I’m going to end up with a body problem.”
The grin on his face is not amusing. “They don’t go away. Tolerable, but they remain.” He looks at me, and then his voice changes. “Come to my office. I have something to show you. Then I can give you a plan that will work for us both.”
I follow him inside, shutting the door behind me. Her laughter fills the room, coming from upstairs. I hesitate, wanting to go find her, but force myself to continue. Something in his eyes has me curious, and the fact that he has to bring me to his office says it’s something I need to see.
I sit in the chair, leaned over, forearms to thighs with the folder open in my hands. With every line I read my anger grows, yet I can’t stop. “You did a fucking background check on me?”
He walks around the desk and leans against the wood to my left, facing me. Motherfucker is brave. “Delta came to me. She wanted me to find out about your birth mother.”
“And you did it? You went behind my back that easily?”
“No. I told her no. Then, she all but cried and plead her case in that very chair that it was for you. For both of you. Parents to be and all. I told her I’d think about it. I don’t pry into the lives of people that are valuable to me. I can tell Chevy has some serious demons, but they’re his alone. Unless he betrays me it’s not my concern. You were the other one.”
I flip the page and stare at my original birth certificate, my jaw locking. “Then why’d you do it? It’s no one’s fucking business unless I ask for it.”
“Because something felt off. I started thinking about it. The way my father refused to use any other dealer. According to the secret books he’s poured millions into you. You’re in the legit ones too. He invested in your company that’s still in the works so that it looks legit. How you suddenly appeared in Spain—an American—so young and already heavy into arms dealing. He had a soft spot for you. I may never know where you came from, but I did some digging in his files back home. Turns out, he already knew everything about you. All I had to do was have the files forwarded to me.”
I blink repetitively, trying to keep my anger in check. The words on the page are blurred. I don’t like being blindsided, especially in regard to my business. “I was a witness.”
The words left my lips before I could stop them; a secret so old I had forgotten about it ‘til now. “What?” he asks.
“The men he killed that raped your sister and left her for dead. I watched him kill them. He tracked them, made sure they were nowhere close to home when he did it. It was the first time I ever snuck out, and the last for a while. I was scared when he saw me and took off running. I was just a kid. Years later he found me; probably to see if I was still keeping my mouth shut. I was already dealing drugs and dabbling in arms. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Haven’t had problems getting jobs since.” The words come out robotically. “No one ever understood me quite like your dad. He taught me things along the way. Had you not killed the fucker that killed him first I would have done it.”
“You’ll get your chance at revenge,” he says. I glance up at him. “Brannon isn’t your mother’s name, it’s your father’s.”
“My father?”
He nods. I can’t even bring myself to read what’s in the damn envelope yet. “Just take the folder. I haven’t told Delta I’d do it yet. You can tell her what you want or nothing at all. It’s your life, Kross, but after reading it, and knowing you, I thought you’d want to know what’s in that folder.”
I look at the size of the stack held within the two pieces of cardstock. I need to get to Delta. “Summarize. I’ll finish it later.”
“Your mother was a stripper. Her name was Rachel James. She had priors for prostitution. Had you at eighteen. You were not transferred into state custody until the night of her murder.”
I stand, shoving the chair halfway across the room. My head is swarming. I’m dizzy. “Murder? Why wouldn’t I have known that?”
“Yes. It’s state personnel record, not public knowledge. They found her body in her tiny apartment after the neighbor called the cops for what sounded like domestic violence and a gunshot. You were hiding under the bed, your neck sliced open and screaming for her. It was in a bad part of town known for heavy gang activity. The case went cold. There was no next of kin to take you, so they placed you in the custody of the state of Illinois. Ironically, your mother bounced around in foster care all her life too.”
I grip my hair, roar for roar tearing from my throat, trying to stop the pain in my head. Chest heaving, body hot, tingling skin, aggression flowing, I try to calm down with no luck. “What the hell do you mean ‘no next of kin’ if I have some fucker’s last name?”
“Kross, sit down.”
“Tell me, Kaston!”
“Sit. The. Fuck. Down. Before you destroy something.”
I plop down into the chair, muscles twitching to hit something. “Start talking.”
He walks to his desk and pulls out another folder, bringing it to me. “I have no fucking idea how my dad found all of this information, or why he never told you that he had it if he cared enough to get it. He has pages and pages of notes in that folder you’re holding. Maybe it’s why he created a multimillion-dollar company aside from the illegal activity. He was good at digging, so he charged an ungodly amount to do it.”
“Get to the point.”
“Your father wasn’t listed on the birth certificate, but the owner of the strip club she worked for goes by the name of Elliott Brannon. He has a rap sheet a mile long. There is a paternity test in there to confirm he’s your father. He has the tattoo that Delta described of the cross on his neck.”
Delta . . . Always remembers the details.
“I’m willing to bet that’s where your name came from. He’s had strippers come up missing before but there was never any evidence to tie him. The fucker is smart. I’d bet everything I’m worth he’s the one that killed her.”
“Good, I’m itching to kill something. Someone that sentenced me to Hell sounds like a good target.”
I go to stand, but he holds out his hand, stopping me. “There is something you should know.”
“The only thing I need to know is where he is and which knife he prefers to have his throat slit with.”
“Kross, he’s the kingpin of the largest underground prostitution ring to date. Like your tattoo parlors, his strip clubs are his legal cover-up. If he were that easy to kill, he would probably be dead already. I’ve talked to a few people. He’s like a ghost. This is all I could dig up on him, and it isn’t much.” I grab the folder out of his hand. “I’m going to assume that cross scar on your neck was a warning to keep quiet. You’re not supposed to exist, and your mother paid the price.”
With the words, a sharp pain shoots through my head. I scream out. And it comes back. It all fucking comes back . . .
Someone starts banging on the door. She goes to the little hole in the middle, playing the quiet game. “Mommy?”
She runs toward me on her tiptoes, placing her hand over my mouth. “Open the fucking door, Rachel! I know you’re in there.”
My heart is beating fast. He’s screaming. Still beating. “Shhh, baby. Be quiet for Mommy, okay?”
She jumps when he beats and screams through the door again. “Open the door. If you wanted to keep him a secret from me, you should have never come back.”
I run behind her as she pulls me toward our bedroom, opening the folding closet doors. “Who is it, Mommy? Are we playing hide and seek?”
“Go in there, Kross,” she says, guiding me inside, underneath the clothes. “Don’t come out ‘til Mommy comes to get you, okay?”
I nod my head, my cheeks wet. “Am I in trouble?”
She gets on her knees. Tears fall down her face. I don’t like seeing Mommy sad. She only gets that way at bedtime. It’s not bedtime . . .
Her soft hands touch my cheeks. “No, baby. You did nothing wrong. Mommy is in trouble. I didn’t do something my boss told me to, but you did nothing wrong. Do you understand?”
“Okay. Why are you sad?”
The front door flies open. Heavy footsteps begin to sound in the other room. “I love you, Kross. Remember, Mommy loves you. Always have, always will.”
As soon as she closes the doors, leaving me in only darkness with stripes of light, she’s yanked backward by her hair, and she screams. My heart leaps forward, but I stay still like she said. I get prizes if I mind. And I don’t want to make her sadder. It’s the man from her work with the cross drawing on his neck. He looks mad.
“I told you to get rid of it, you stupid bitch!”
“I couldn’t,” she screams. “I was too far along.”
He hits her, making her hair fly. She cries. He hurt her. Mommy said you only hit someone on the butt when they’ve done something bad. You don’t hit people. It’s not nice. I should tell him what Mommy said. But she said stay. “You disobeyed me! That little cunt of yours is no good to me now. You knew the rules. No pregnancies. No STDs.”
“He’s ours, Elliott. No one else’s. Ours. I couldn’t leave him. Please. I’ll do anything.” He pulls her to her feet and then pushes her into the wall. He’s holding something black to her forehead. That doesn’t look like Mommy’s thermometer. She shakes her head fast, crying louder. “No. I’m sorry.”
“One chance is all I give. Now you can take the barrel like you take cock,” he says, and then moves the long black thing and shoves it into her mouth. A loud sound goes off when she screams, making me jump, and then red splatters around the room and on him.
“Mommy!”
He drops her on the floor and comes toward me, shoving the doors open. I move behind her clothes, but he pulls me out by the hair and tilts my head back so that he can look at me. “Jesus Christ. You look even more like me than I thought.”
“What’s wrong with Mommy?” I glance at her on the floor. “Is she sleeping?”
He turns me around so that I can see her. She’s covered in red and something is wrong with her head. She doesn’t look like Mommy anymore. He squats behind me, pulling my hair until it hurts. I cry harder. I want my mommy. “You know what it means to die, boy?”
I shake my head as he puts something sharp on the top of my neck and presses it into my skin. I scream as he pulls it down my neck, hurting me. Something wet drips. “Means you don’t come back. Your mama isn’t coming back, and if you don’t forget you won’t be either.”
He lifts the knife from my skin and places it in a different place, doing the same as before. I try to kick and scream, but he holds me in place. I cry louder. I don’t feel good. I trip when he pushes me. “If you ever tell, I’ll come find you and deal with you just like your cunt of a mother. One chance is all you get.”
He stands and storms out the door, slamming it behind him. I crawl to Mommy, but quickly move away when I see her, inching under the bed and curling up. I close my eyes tight and say my prayers like Mommy does with me every night before bed. “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take. Amen.”
Swirls of black and light. I place my tiny hand to my neck, the wetness coating it. “I love you too, Mommy. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you . . .”
Every memory assaults me as if they’ve been locked in a vault with a missing key. I can’t breathe. People were dragging me out from under the bed as I screamed for her. The club’s pink neon illuminating the darkness was everywhere. The dancers—I knew them all. The bright blue sirens on the police cars against the night sky as I was put into the backseat with the lady in a suit. The sirens of the ambulance. The white sheet draped over her body as they rolled her away, and worse, my life before. A happy, chaotic, mess of a life. But it was good. We didn’t have much, but she loved me. She never hurt me. And she never fucking abandoned me. She was taken, all because she kept me.
A deep growl rips from my chest. My body surges forward against a hold over and over as if I’m possessed. “Kross, calm the fuck down.”
I see nothing but the memories. I only hear the gunshot. His threats. Her voice. I can hear her voice. I feel nothing but his hold as he slices a cross in my neck, tagging me. The guilt. The guilt consumes me. I just stood in that fucking closet scared. I watched him blow out the back of her head and did nothing. Nothing but forget—just like he told me to do.
An arm grips around my neck. I fight harder, seeking freedom from my own mind. I’m stuck in purgatory. Lost in the abyss of the forgotten memories. My lungs are constricted to the point of no return. Air doesn’t come. I’m going mad as it replays over and over. The blood. The brain matter.
“Stop!”
That voice. Her voice.
The memories finally begin to fade. “Move!” It’s her again. I can’t find her in the dark, but I feel her. “Kross, baby, it’s me, Delta. Remember my touch.”
Light. I see light. Clear, vacant light. Lips against my lips. Body on my body. My hand traces over every contour until I can finally see her face, tear stained and worried. The air begins to come. My chest moves slowly and deeply, taking her in. The words drip from my lips like poison. “I’m just like him.”
She’s still crying. I just now realize she’s in my arms, my hands gripping the backs of her thighs. “What?”
“I told you to get rid of it, just like he demanded for her to get rid of me.”
“No, baby, you’re not—”
“I’m just like him,” I spit, harsher.
She looks back at Kaston, and then kisses me again, pulling me farther into her world. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have come after me.”
“She didn’t abandon me.”
More tears. Each one falls in a different path than the last. It’s all I can concentrate on. She places her forehead against mine, until our eyes are forced to meet. “I had that feeling. It’s why I went to Kaston. You’re a difficult person to leave, Kross.”
“She loved me.”
“She loved you,” she repeats.
“You love me.”
“I love you.”
“Our baby . . .”
“Will love you.”
“But I—”
“It never has to know.”
I exhale, everything calm, peaceful. She’s my peace. “I remember.”
“We should stay home tonight.”
I remember . . .
“No.” I push her off of me, my emotional armor sliding back into place. “I have plans.”
“Kross . . .”
“No, Delta. Go get dressed and pack a bag. We have plans.”
She looks at me, and then at Kaston. Hesitant. She doesn’t want to leave. “Go!” I bark, and she turns to leave, meeting Lux at the door before they exit together.
I look at Kaston. “You good?”
“I will be. When he’s a dead son of a bitch. Can you find him?”
“I will. Whatever it takes.”
I gather the folders. “Good. I need some air.”
I storm out of the room. Tonight and tomorrow are about her, because after that, I won’t be back ‘til I watch him take his last breath and his body is lifeless in my hands. I want blood. And I’m going after mine.
