“Why are we here again?” Tillie asks, her breath hot against my ear as we walk deeper into the tunnel side by side
“Quiet, sugar butt, or you’ll scare the rats away,” I snicker as she yelps as something skitters across the ground and she grips my bicep, her nails digging in.
“I hate you,” she hisses, but I notice her breathing picking up in short pants and she’s plastered to my side like she wants to crawl into my skin.
I’d allow that, let her carve me up so she can crawl inside. I’d be able to keep her close.
“It’s just a rave, nothing to worry about,” I lie, there’s plenty to worry about tonight.
It took days but Logan finally got a response back from Dom. This is our first meeting, the first time coming face to face with the man that looks just like Logan’s mom’s killer. I’ve heard on the streets that Dom is the spitting image of his father, and my gut is telling me that blood will be spilled tonight. I don’t know why I have an obsession with blood, but it always leaves me in a trance where I can’t look away. It excites me.
I think my very first memory of seeing blood was when I was just four years old. It’s also the oldest memory of my birth mom. Her face is always blurry in that one memory but I know it’s her by the sound of her voice that still plays in my head, the sweet scent of vanilla that always seems to make me pause to breathe in deeply. I can’t remember much but I’m pretty positive I was at a carnival that day. Flashing lights, laughter, cotton candy, but what sticks out most is when my mom put a bandaid on my knee after I fell off my bike. Her voice is so clear that I sometimes stop and look around as if she’s right there with me.
“There, there, little bug. It’s only a tiny scratch.” She blew on my scraped knee that dripped with blood, cooling the sting.
“But it hurts.” Tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at the blood pooling out of my skin, looking like it will never stop.
“For now it does, but you know what? It’s going to stop. It’s going to heal, and one day it will be completely gone, like it was never there to begin with.” She places the bandaid right over my cut, covering the blood so I can’t see it any more, as if it was never really there, just like she said.
I think my obsession all started from that moment because whenever I see blood, I don’t want to cover it. I want to see why it’s seeping out of the skin, I want it to never stop. She was right, my mom, it does heal, but only for appearances. Years later you can still feel the pain like it was just yesterday. I want to feel pain everyday, it’s the only reason I know I’m still breathing.
I’m fucked in the head, but then again, who isn’t?
“Hey, you okay?” Tillie asks, her body shivering next to me as her eyes dart around the dark tunnel.
I realize I’ve stopped walking, the guys shadows keep moving ahead as they follow the glow sticks placed on the ground to find the tunnel with the rave. I can hear Tillie gulp loudly and she shivers again.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” I ask seriously, knowing we are all afraid of something.
“Yes, but don’t tell anyone I said that.” She squeezes my arm and squares her shoulders before walking in front of me, her heels clicking on the wet cement.
She sticks out like a sore thumb, even in the dark. She’s the only one wearing white and black while the rest of us are dressed in black from head to toe. The mesh, black, fishnet crop top over her white bra is making my brain run in circles. Anything white would be pretty splashed in red. It’s the same for her spandex, tight white shorts that ride up between her buttcheeks. It’s enough that I can see her asscheeks peaking through each time she takes a step. I’m tempted to kill Logan for picking out this outfit. Did he really have to pick out white clothing that looks incredible and sexy against her smooth caramel skin? The white high heel boots that stop just below her knees are driving me crazy, I keep picturing them wrapped around my waist. I shake my head and jog to catch up to her.
“Why the dark? It’s the perfect place to hide.” I love the dark, knowing I can be there without being seen.
“Bad things happen in dark places. You could be stuck there and never see the light of day again,” she whispers softly and almost bumps into Logan’s back as he pauses at the edge of the tunnel.
Loud music thumps ahead, making the ground beneath our feet shake… who knew the tunnels under the city could be used to party? I wonder if we can use them to transport drugs? I’ll have to ask Logan later. Three people with black clothing and white masks stand in front of us. Their bodies are covered in neon paint that stands out against the dark, and I’m guessing by the buckets of paint at their feet, we’re about to be covered too.
“La Demonio.” Logan’s voice comes out stoic yet hard, and I can see his muscles tensing.
It’s going to be a long fucking night.
One of the masked guys pulls out his phone, the whites of his eyes staring at us as he mutters in Spanish to whoever is on the other line. After he hangs up, he reaches down and grabs a paint brush from the bucket with neon colors of pinks, oranges, and blues. He flicks the brushes at us until our bodies are covered from head to toe before walking away from us, not saying a word as he disappears farther down the tunnel where the music is coming from. I guess we’re meant to follow after him. I’m tempted to put these assholes in their place for showing us disrespect, but Logan hasn’t given me the go ahead… yet.
“Don’t wander off. Stay with one of us at all times,” Nicky tells Tillie in a serious tone and doesn’t look away from her until she nods in agreement.
I bite my lip ring, trying not to laugh because he’s pretending to not give a shit what happens to her, but he can’t hide from me. I see right through him. The moment we enter the rave, it’s like a sea of moving colors and loud techno music as our paint starts to glow under the lights. High domed ceilings with flashing, strobe, colored lights shine down on men and women dancing with splattered glowing paint covering their bodies.
I grab Tillie’s hand as we start to push through the crowd of people jumping up and down to the music, dancing, as we move towards the other side of the room with the DJ hyping them up. Half-naked girls dance with a drink in their hands as shirtless guys grind up behind them, and a lot of them look blissed out of their minds on ecstasy. Dalton stays in front of us, causing people to move out of his way and give us a clear path. Tillie gasps behind me, making me spin around with plans of murder on my mind.
“Tey, I really want to dance.” She grins so wide as the music thumps louder, making everyone scream. She actually pouts when I pull her in front of me to walk towards the guys.
“Later. You can dance your heart out, later,” I whisper in her ear and heave a sigh in regret as we stop in front of a group of guards blocking us from going any farther.
“Logan Russo,” Logan says, his stance casual as if he’s bored.
Nicky stands right next to him, his eyes glancing around everywhere looking for a threat. Just being here is a threat to us. The biggest of the guards eyes us up and down, his gaze pausing on Dalton who just raises an eyebrow in return while crossing his arms over his chest. Basically saying fuck you. I like that.
“Let them through,” a deep voice says, with a hint of a husky, smooth Spanish accent.
The guards part like the Red Sea, their jackets pulled back to show they’re armed with guns, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ll kill them all, snap a few necks, and maybe get to use my knife with unicorn tonight. One can only hope. Once the guards move out of the way, red velvet couches are revealed with a large glass coffee table in front of it and sitting right in the middle of that couch is none other than Dom. I’d be able to spot him without ever meeting him. It’s the cold, hard look in his eyes that reminds me of myself.
Very interesting.
Dark, almost black eyes roam over our group, and it’s like staring into the night sky without a single star in sight. He almost doesn’t have any fucking paint on him, damn it, and it makes me roll my eyes as he reaches into the front of his pants, pulling out a gun to place it on the coffee table. Dom pauses his stare on Tillie for a long, hot second, looking her up and down with a small smirk forming at the corner of his mouth, showing his interest. That makes me just pull her closer to my body, claiming my ownership. I’m not afraid to admit when a guy is hot. But I don’t want him to be hot, I especially don’t want Tillie looking at him. Tattoos start at his knuckles, continuing up his sleeves, and the one symbol at the base of his neck that disappears into the collar of his shirt tells me it’s his gang sign. The devil.
He notices me staring at him, and he runs a hand over his dark brown hair that’s shaved close to his scalp on the sides, in a way that shows it’s a habit of his. Is he nervous or is he trying to give himself something to do instead of reaching for the gun in the middle of the coffee table?
I’m not sure exactly, but I would guess he’s in his early twenties. I know he took over from his father at a young age. His light brown skin looks flawless with his black suit and red shirt underneath, making his sinister eyes all the more darker, as if they can see into your soul.
He won’t be able to find mine.
He moves his gaze over to Logan and stops there, his eyes narrowing the tiniest bit at the sides, giving away his thoughts. He wants my best friend dead and six feet under for just being in his presence. I knew there would be tension, and trigger finger emotions, because Logan and Dom shouldn’t even be in the same room. One of them will probably end up killing the other, one day. Logan won’t be the one dead, not going to happen on my fucking watch.
“Russo,” Dom says in a bored tone and gestures for us to have a seat as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees… it brings him closer to his gun.
That says a lot. He doesn’t trust us and he rightfully shouldn’t.
“Do you know her?” Logan cuts right to the chase and points at Tillie as we all sit down like we’re in a fucking meeting.
“What?” Tillie asks in confusion and tilts her head as she gazes at Dom.
“We haven’t met but, Mama, we should get acquainted.” The fucker purrs in that sexy accent of his and flashes her a smile.
I glance at Nicky, his emerald eyes practically glowing with contained rage and he reaches into his jacket, pulling out his gun from the holster to slam it on the table. It draws everyone’s attention to him with the guards closing in, and my Nicholas looks seconds away from shooting everyone. I reach out and grip the back of his neck until he glances at me from the corner of his eye.
“Calm down, she’s the filling of our oreo. Don’t worry.” I squeeze his neck one more time. He takes a deep breath and relaxes somewhat while still keeping an eye on everyone.
“Listen, Papi,” Tillie says sarcastically and crosses her legs slowly to draw Dom’s gaze there. “We won’t be getting acquainted. I’m just a whore who will be leaving soon. Let’s stick with that shall we?”
“Ah, don’t say that, little bitch. You’re not just any whore, you’re our-” Dalton starts to say, but Logan cuts him off with a quick glare.
“I’m going to cut right to the chase. I don’t fucking want to be here and would rather get this over with because I have better things to do.” Logan’s voice comes out hard and deep, his right trigger finger twitching on his knee. “I’ve had shipments suddenly disappear in the last month, and then more kept going missing. I caught a rat that sang your name, Dom. Are you selling drugs on my streets?”
Dom stares at Logan and rubs his thumb over his lower lip before he busts out laughing. He wipes a few tears from his eyes and slams his fists on the table a second later as his facial expression shifts into fury.
“You have some fucking nerve coming onto my turf, Ese. Are you saying I’ve been stealing your drugs? Fuck you. Why don’t you ask Franco? He knows after he killed my father that I don’t deal in that shit. He wouldn’t lie to you, his own son. But then again, you can’t trust him now, can you?” Dom smirks as Logan grinds his teeth, anger getting the better of him.
His switch is about to flip.
“What the hell do you know?” Logan’s face smooths out and he straightens his tie, making sure it’s sitting perfectly.
“You don’t know?” Dom slowly shakes his head and leans back into the cushions at ease with his arms spread wide on the back of the couch. “A little birdie told me that Franco is getting his hands in too deep, Jin right by his side, as they are both making deals with the Los Muerte gang. Right in your own house, Logan and it’s Nicky, right?” Dom questions as he turns his head to look at Nicky.
Shit.
“You’re lying. Why would he steal from himself?” Nicky stands up, his fists clenched at his side as he stares down at Dom in anger.
“Isn’t it obvious? Power. To start a war. What would it look like to the media if Franco, Chief of police, stopped a gang rival without anyone knowing he’s linked to it. I imagine it would help him climb up the ladder.” Dom raises a single dark eyebrow as Logan tugs Nicky by the wrist to sit back down.
“He wouldn’t do that. The business would link back to him.” Logan’s voice sounds off, distant.
“Would it? Or would it come back to the person who’s running the show as Franco stays behind closed doors? Guess you can never trust who you live with. Makes you question what’s true or what’s not. Maybe you should be asking how your mother really died,” Dom taunts, looking for just the right thing to say for Logan to lose it.
It worked.
Logan quickly stands up, his whole body shaking in anger, and he starts to reach into the back of his waistband for his gun just as Tillie jumps to her feet. She pushes my legs out of the way until she just stops and stares as someone else beats her to Logan’s side. This night has taken a downhill for the worst, I think to myself with a groan.
Fucking Paris.
