Power (Romantic Suspense) (15 page)

“Yeah. They got the jerk-off named Harrold out there. The motherfucker was jacking off to some picture of Mary Jane in his car. It was his dumb luck that they happened to be searching the parking lot for him.” Crusher grinned. “305 said Fuji went crazy on the guy after he realized he’d been threatening Mary Jane. Beat him up really good.”

You were supposed to wait, Fuji. No one said to hit him. You were to leave the fun for me. What the fuck? It’s like she’s taken over my guard. Did he just disobey my order to defend her honor?

I placed Mary Jane in the limo and climbed back out to ask Crusher one more thing, “Hey, did Fuji break something?”

“Yeah. Both legs. The guy probably can’t write with his hands either. And Fuji is sure he cracked his jaw, but he wanted me to make sure you knew that he didn’t kill him.”

Yeah, motherfucker. You didn’t break my rule, but you did ruin my fun. And Mary Jane’s going to be pissed.

“Fine.” I frowned. “Tell them to make sure this Harrold understands that he’s not to communicate with Mary Jane and then, let him go. We don’t need to go to Manny’s now. Just take us home.”

“Let him go?” Crusher frowned which was never a great sight.

“Yes.”

“But I had my cds out.”

“Just fucking play them now. You don’t get to hurt him to the songs, but you can listen to them as we go home. Just don’t fucking play them so loud,” I said through clenched teeth. “And make sure Fuji doesn’t break anything else.”

“But. . .”

“What?”

Get over it. You can’t kill him tonight.

“Nothing, Boss.” Crusher rushed off to grab the blanket.

I knew what my bodyguard had probably figured. If not for Mary Jane, Harrold would’ve been another body in my freezer tonight. It might’ve been a bit much, but Harrold had the gift of bad fucking timing. Sending that picture of her, while I dealt with Domingo face-to-face, guaranteed that he would be priority number two on my shit list.

The fact that he’d even snapped a picture like that made me want to choke him. That beautiful sex of hers bloomed in the image—moist and dripping honey on the folds. The damned image had made my cock hard.

Why the fuck did I give in to her? Harrold better not fuck up anymore. I know that. If he does, I’ll slice him from ear to ear.

I got inside of the car. Still sleeping, Mary Jane groaned a little and slumped against the door on her side. It looked uncomfortable, so I did my best not to wake her as I lifted her up and brought her to my side. I’d only been trying to give her a better position, so she wouldn’t wake up sore.

But then she groaned again, opened her eyes a little, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You know what.”

“Is the thanks for my tongue?”

“That, too.” She yawned and rose, scooting closer to me. “I heard what Crusher said. Thanks for letting Harrold go.”

“Did you hear that your favorite bodyguard broke his legs and hand?”

“I heard.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and curled her little body toward me.

“Are you pissed with Fuji?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Fuji is my friend. He can do stupid violent things, but I won’t date a guy that’s violent. That’s just crazy.”

Dating? Are we dating?

She rested her head on my shoulder and snuggled some more, making me forget what I was thinking.

“I’ve got you, Noah.” She yawned. “Just let me take a quick nap and when I wake up, I’ll take care of you.”

You’ve got me? How cute. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I planned to taste and fuck you later. Take your nap.

She fell asleep on me, whispering, “So good.”

My body stiffened. I didn’t cuddle. It wasn’t my thing. But I couldn’t move her away. No reasons came to mind, but I felt it deeply inside. I couldn’t move her away. She felt so soft and warm against me.

Dating?

“What an interesting day.” I covered her with my jacket and lowered her dress over her legs. My heart blared in my chest and I counted the beats along with her soft snores, seizing the only time I could to meditate and keep my mind still. My fingers itched to write a list on who I needed to kill tomorrow. A list on things to do next week. I had no idea what I would write. Sometimes, I only needed the action of the pen touching the pad to make me feel better.

My cock grew even harder as Mary Jane’s soft breaths turned into light snoring.

The idea to write a list went out the window.

Focus. Meditate. That way I’ll be still and won’t wake her.

Crusher started the limo and we drove away.

I counted my breaths and stilled my mind.

One. Two. Three.

Many issues still awaited me today. I had to kill Domingo. There was no denying that. Earlier that day, I’d planned to shoot whoever was responsible for murdering the kids. Now, I was sure Domingo was guilty. He stabbed Rasheed, removing my ability to investigate further. And he’d clearly gone crazy. His mother said he went loony right after the innocent kids died. She even suspected that he’d been involved, a woman who knew nothing about the game, but a great deal about her son.

Domingo had lost his mind—painting himself like Jesus, forcing his son to wear a crown of thorns, and scrawling biblical scriptures all over the house. He’d always been religious, but not bat shit, crazy religious. What kind of birthday party had that been? What was his behavior doing to his kids and family?

Domingo had enough power in the North that he could terrorize a lot of people in the name of Jesus and the cops wouldn’t do much about it. I’d given him that power and now, I would take it back.

It’s time, Domingo. If only so your kids can have a better life. If only so the children of this city can walk the streets safely.

Innocents were never supposed to be slain. Only us. We chose this life. We would die by it. But the kids, women, and the ones who never involved themselves in the game, they were never to be touched. Unmarked. Never involved. Blind to the darkness. Clean from all the blood.

How did we all change so completely, Domingo? And why were Butterfly’s girls there? Is she wondering who will run the city? I should pay her a visit.

Guilt and sorrow resided in the bottom of my gut. Of all the kills in my life, this one twisted me badly. All of them gave me nightmares. It was another reason why I didn’t have women sleep with me. The last thing I needed people whispering about in the streets was how the Beast woke up screaming and covered in sweat every morning. Meditating helped stop the nightmares, sometimes.

The odd night carried on.

Crusher continued to drive us home. He finally got to play that goddamned cd of his. Disney songs boomed from the front. He began with
A Whole New World,
hinting at his good mood. His two favorite musicals were
Aladdin
and
The Little Mermaid
. Anytime those songs played, he’d be grinning and crooning along with the lyrics. Nothing was as sinister as Crusher singing
Under the Sea.
It was one of the few things that really scared the shit out of me.

And all knew that if
Be Our Guest
played from his apartment, he was in the middle of torturing someone. I’d watched him do some ill things to that song and had to sneak off to vomit later.

Why is he in such a good mood?

Din City rushed by the limo’s window. Buildings towered and almost touched the stars glittering the sky. So late, the sidewalks were bare of the upright folk. My world had woken up. The thugs came out, yawning and hovering over street corners and hiding in the shadows of alleyways. Hookers strolled the boulevard, high out of their minds and barely draped in anything more than sheer tops and lace bottoms. Some stomped in their six-inch heels, waving to the car as we rode by. Soldiers from both sides—Domingo’s and Rasheed’s—prowled the bullet-riddled pavement. Their gazes went to the limo. I bet some shuddered and others considered running away.

Good.

Memories plagued me. My heart drummed even louder. I held Mary Jane’s warm body closer to me and shut my eyes to the world. For the first time since Domingo’s and Rasheed’s beef, I let myself succumb to anger and regret. I lowered myself into those emotions. Let myself feel for a few moments.

Why is life so fucked up sometimes?

So many memories. I thought back to that night in the basement with Domingo and Rasheed. I remembered the first time I had sex. The same night I’d introduced Rasheed to Vivian. We’d all ditched school and went back to Butterfly’s parent’s house. Back then, Butterfly and her cousins were just as wild as us. I’d taken Butterfly’s virginity. Domingo served as look out, making sure her abusive father didn’t come home. And we’d pumped our young dicks into their virginal wet holes, making harmonious music with the bed springs and their moans. Those were the days. Once, Butterfly’s father had come home too early and slapped the shit out of her. That was the last time he was able to use his right hand.

But still, so much shit existed between Domingo, Rasheed, and me. I’d hung out in the hospital and stressed out in the lobby every time one of them was shot or injured. I’d prayed in the chapel, each time. I’d cried in the darkness, each time. I’d thanked God that they recovered, each time.

For the births of their sons and daughters, I was there. For the birthdays and funerals, weddings and divorces, I was there. Half the time, I lived through them, remaining a bachelor, but happy to get a view of domestic life every now and then.

Rasheed’s murder scoreboard flashed in my head. He’d kept count up until his death. Even bringing it up when he walked into the club to meet with Domingo and me. They’d added large numbers in our years, but their beef had increased their kill count. Domingo had bragged how he was finally getting close to mine.

Rasheed: 42

Domingo: 58

Noah: 65

But now, I found the score board stupid. Who needed to brag about numbers, anymore, when we’d already won the game? We had the power. The money. The property. The police stuffed deep into our pockets. We even had a few judges and politicians. But still, Domingo and Rasheed beefed and remained unhappy, and neither could really say how the war began in the first place.

Well, at least something good came out of this. She’s got good pussy. I’m going to have some fun with her.

I almost wanted to drag out killing Domingo to keep her in my loft longer. There was no way she would stay at her own will. We were two different people. She didn’t have the stomach for my life and I probably wouldn’t have the stomach for hers.

She’d want me to get out of selling drugs and guns. She’d want me to do something less dangerous. Never. No one will change me.

I glanced at her sleeping form. The image of her racing down my hallway with a dildo in her hand like a sword triggered a grin.

No one can change her either.

Crusher rounded the corner and pulled into the back of my nightclub, while singing
Part of Your World.
It might have been the most frightening rendition of a mermaid I’d ever heard of. No matter how loud Crusher hit the notes, Mary Jane remained asleep, stirring a little bit as I carried her into the club, up the stairs, and directly to my bedroom.

“Boss?” Crusher stood in my bedroom’s doorway. “Do you want me to watch her?”

“No.” I lay Mary Jane on my bed.

“But she’s in here.” Crusher pointed his finger at my bed.

“I’m aware of that.”

“But this is your bedroom.”

“Yes, she’s in here.” I shrugged. “I want a close eye on her. What eye is better than mine?”

“I could get Fuji to watch her, if—”

I growled, “No one watches her, but me.”

Crusher widened his eyes in shock and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. Wonder didn’t compliment his scary face, it only darkened it more.

“What?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Nothing.”

“You have something to say?”

His cracked lips attempted a smile. Again, that didn’t compliment him either. The poor guy was just born with a monstrous face. One of his eyes was higher than the other, just slightly, but enough to freak others out. His head was bigger than average, too.

He’d always towered over us, even in kindergarten. By third grade, he had little biceps that scared the shit out of everyone on the playground. No one played with him, but me. I never understood why they were terrified. He had chin stubble in middle school. A full beard by high school. Freshmen year, he’d already stood over six feet and his voice vibrated dark and deep.

Humans judged people by looks and because Crusher didn’t have the right ones, they treated him like a monster—his family, teachers, and every girl he crushed on. They screamed and ran away. They persecuted him before he spoke a word. Before he could say hello, our parents thought he’d be a bad influence. Our teachers labeled him as the class bully before he stepped through the door.

They treated him like a monster, so that was what he became.

But I knew the truth—Crusher was a freaking romantic and big Disney musical fiend. He had three stuffed dwarfs that he slept with and if he couldn’t find them, he wouldn’t go to sleep. But he loved romantic comedies and had dragged me to the theater with him on restless nights. He’d also experienced the worst thing a child could ever deal with, but he’d dealt with it. . .in his way. Better yet, maybe the world hadn’t made him a monster. Maybe that day at Disney World had done it.