Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) (28 page)

The car pulled up to the curb, parking behind the SUV he’d sent to get Avi and Ro. Noah took his time leaving his vehicle, assessing the neighborhood as he approached Ro. He grimaced at the bar on the corner.

“How’d you get two parking spots?”

Ro shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“As long as I won’t have to pay anyone’s medical bills like the last time.” Noah walked past his friend.

“Why are you coming at me like that?” Ro eased off the truck, joining Noah on the sidewalk. “You knock a few teeth out and break some ribs and that shit hangs over your head,” he mumbled.

He pressed the bell beside Avi’s name. “Go home.”

“And miss the action?” Ro scoffed. “Hell no.”

“Go home.” Noah pressed the buzzer again.

Ro’s snickered. “She’s not letting you in?” Ro laughed aloud, slapping a hand on his thigh. “This is rich. Let me record this shit for the fellas.” He rustled in his back pocket for his cell.

“Go the fuck home,” Noah gritted out.

“You pussy. Did you really text my wife?” Ro asked, eyes on the capital letters blaring at him from the text message.

Noah growled, turning his fury on his friend. “Get the hell away from me before I beat your ass.” He turned back to the task at hand.

“Fine. I’m leaving. Not because you told me to or because you set my wife on me, but because I don’t want to see my friend grovel like an asshat.” Ro backed away and did his best not to laugh when Noah threw up his middle finger.

Noah peered through the glass of the security door and hoped a resident would be coming outside soon. But no such luck. The pressure he applied to Avi’s bell reddened his fingertip.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Take the truck and take out your wife. I told her you would.”

“Lemme work my magic on those locks before I leave,” Ro said, sounding nearer than before.

“I’ve got this. Go.”

He watched Ro drive away.

Noah’s gaze drifted up to the few street-facing windows on Avi’s floor, and he wondered which was hers. He got his answer when he caught sight of a set of blinds that opened then quickly closed.

Noah pulled out his cell phone, muttering, “You really shouldn’t play games with me.” He dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear.

“What’s up?”

“Get me the keys to Avi’s apartment.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Gavin responded.

“Make it happen.” He ended the call and decided to venture down the block.

An hour later, Noah returned from a local pizza parlor. A frazzled man peeked up and down the street. His stride lengthened to reach the man.

“You have what I need?” Noah asked the stocky, sweaty man.

“Mr. Adams?” He took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the perspiration from his face. He stretched his hand out toward Noah, who eyed it with a raised brow. The hand was quickly pulled to the man’s side. “Right. Here’s what was requested.”

The gold keys shimmered under the glowing streetlights.

“Good.”

“Is...will there be anything else?” he asked, watching Noah walk up the front steps.

The slam of the security door was the only answer the man received.

A sense of satisfaction oozed through Noah’s body. He took his time climbing the stairs. Noah’s mood transformed from mildly amused to pissed with each step. He yanked the stairway door open, glad she lived in a well-kept building, if not the most secure. Gavin merely threatened to cut off the super’s balls, and voilà, Noah had a sparkling new set of keys to the home of one Avianna Linton.

Yeah, she’ll be moving soon.

Noah filled his lungs with air and pushed it out through his nostrils. He felt ready to face her now. He crossed the threshold of Avi’s home as if he’d been there before and had every right to be there now. He got a whiff of the sweet scents floating in the air. Remembering his purpose, he headed down the dim, narrow hallway.

The bedroom door was partially opened. He pushed the creaking door wider, and even though his shoes sunk into plush carpet, he held his breath and waited for a reaction. None came. The room was both empty and silent. Too silent.

He pushed his jacket away from his torso and rested his hand on the butt of his gun. The glow from the streetlight through the closed blinds eased his vision around the dark, small room. Noah peered around for anything amiss. Two dresser drawers hung open, clothing spilling from them.

His hand curved over the butt of his gun. A sound to his right drew his eyes and his weapon toward the shadowy figure.

“Don’t move.” His tone was low.

A scream pierced the air.

His hand held steady.

The light flickered on.

“Damn it,” Avi yelled out.

Skin.

That was all he saw.

Caramel-colored skin he wanted to lick. She was wet all over. Shimmering droplets covered her flesh and there wasn’t a towel in sight. His cock hardened. Her perky breasts jiggled with each movement.

Noah bit back a moan. His gaze roved over her trim waist and then moved lower to the manicured hair covering the pussy he’d been dreaming about tasting and fucking then tasting again. He caught himself before he could drool.

“Why the heck do you have a gun?” Avi barked her question at him.

Noah shook his head, realizing that while he was checking her out, she zoomed in on the handgun at his side.
Fuck.

He turned his back on the tempting sight before him. “Put a damn towel on,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh...” Avi said behind him before scurrying away.

A door slammed.

He tucked the gun back in its place. What a rookie move, pulling his weapon like that. More proof that he lost his head around her, just like Cass insinuated. Noah wasn’t one to make mistakes, and definitely not these types of slip-ups, and with witnesses. That gave people ideas. Ideas like they could question him, doubt him and his leadership. He didn’t answer to anyone but himself.

“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my apartment?” Avi asked. “And why were you pointing a gun at my head?”

He was slow to face her.

When he did, she was tightening her belted short robe and clutching at the opening. The shape and firmness of her nipples showed against the soft fabric and wreaked havoc on Noah’s cock and his plans.

Avi clapped her hands. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

He returned his focus from her bed that he thought of christening, and onto her.

“How are you even inside my apartment?”

She folded her arms across her chest and snapped Noah out of his stupor.

“Pack your bag and let’s go.”

She stood taller on her bare feet. “I don’t think so. March yourself to whatever hellhole you crawled out of and leave me alone. You break into my—oh, my God! Did you break down my door?” Her voice climbed to a screeching tone as she approached Noah with fire erupting in her eyes.

He spied a bag between a far wall and her chest of drawers and stepped around her to reach it.

“Hey? Hey, what are you—”

“Shut up.” He opened and slammed drawers, shoving whatever he found into the bag. “I give an order, it’s fucking followed.” He leveled her with a hard stare before resuming what he was doing. “You think this is a game? Your father was murdered, Avianna. Murdered,” he shouted, just in case her hearing was stuck on low.

“Wha-what?” she inquired, voice small. “What did you say?”

“You’re sitting here playing games and your life could be in jeopardy, because you want to be fucking Ms. Independent. I couldn’t give two shits if you like me or want to stay at my damn house, but that is what the hell is about to happen until I fucking say otherwise.” Noah dropped the bag to the floor with a thud. Storming out of the room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Now pack the rest of your shit and let’s go.”

F
ive days later, the cool November air was crisp and biting, just like the owner of the Queens building where East Meets West sat at an intersection. Due to the hookah lounge’s popularity, other businesses had started to crop up in the area, but none garnered the attention or reaped the financial benefits like East Meets West, and that was just fine with its owner.

“I thought you said Adams would cave?”

Ido leaned back in his chair. “You worry too much.”

“And
you
don’t worry enough. How long are we gonna wait?”

His office was tucked away in the back of his recently renovated building that used to house a uniform manufacturing company. Like the lounge’s name, the office was a blend of American décor and textiles and prints from Ido’s birth country. Ido’s favorite piece was the miniature black marble statue of a pharaoh with his likeness sitting on a throne.

He wouldn’t be the man he was today if he lashed out and threw fits, like his partner was doing, whenever there was a bump in the plan. Adams had appeared to give Ido and his proposal no consideration. No matter. Manning’s blood on the street would force the man to pay attention.

“Patience is for fools. We’re no closer to any of my—er, your goals.”

Ido tipped his head and pulled his lips up into a wry smile. He wasn’t stupid. They were using each other. His partner’s sole focus was vengeance. Well, at that moment, they seemed hell-bent on wearing a hole in the ornate rug beneath their feet. Revenge could be fun for a while. It definitely was a good distraction, but once that eye had been taken, what was left? Ido always thought several steps ahead and sought to capitalize on his lover’s bloodlust.

“Sometimes, you can’t be so brash.” Ido laughed.

The pacing stopped and a perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “Don’t be condescending. I just feel like things should be moving faster.”

They were, but he’d never reveal that information. By accident, useful information—first considered gossip—had fallen into Ido’s hands a few weeks prior about Adams and Avianna Linton. His right-hand man, Darius Sadiki, had secured it from a marijuana dealer. Who knew Adams’s new lady love would turn out to be Manning’s daughter? Or so his informant in the police department told him. Allah was on his side.

“We’re well on our way.” At the silence fraught with the other’s skepticism, Ido asked, “Isn’t Manning dead?”

“Yes.”

Ido crooked his finger, beckoning his partner to him. “And who fired those shots?”

The smirk was prominent. “I did.”

That was true, but Ido was the one who had given the order. When it was discovered that Manning was watching him, Ido had been quick to get the upper hand.

“As I said, we’re doing well. No need to fret.” He reached up to smooth away his lover’s frown. “You need to loosen up.”

He pulled his humidor toward him. Opening the walnut lid, Ido appreciated the neat stacks cushioned in the Spanish-cedar interior. He was a man of fine taste, whose attention was only held by the best. But underneath Ido’s sophistication and charm breathed a man whose ruthlessness knew no bounds.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

Ido watched the purposeful strides toward him.

“How could I not?” A smile lifted a corner of Ido’s sensuous mouth. “You made quite an entrance that day. No one saw you coming.”