Power (Romantic Suspense) (2 page)

“Rasheed likes him, a lot.”

“Do you know what I do there?” I asked.

“Rasheed is not sure.”

“I sit and keep a still mind.”

On the other side, Domingo shifted a little in his chair. “Noah, what does a Buddha statue have to do with us?”

I leaned back in my seat. “Because of this beef, I can’t sit in front of my statue. Because of this beef, innocent kids have died. I have to come downstairs and keep the club closed. I have to talk, when I would rather be still and silent. Because of this beef, I may have to kill a friend.”

Could I survive this? The whole situation had gone wrong. Brothers weren’t supposed to kill brothers. If I cried, I would’ve in that moment. But tears didn’t solve problems. Bullets did. I’d spent the whole morning hardening my heart, stacking bricks inside my chest.

Emotions made trigger fingers shake.

Both men stayed still. Frozen. Fear moved in both of their eyes. I bet they were wishing that their own soldiers had been able to come into my club. I bet they resented the fact that my own men had taken their guns in the guise of this being a peace talk.

I bet they were scared out of their minds.

Domingo decided to interrupt the silence. “Noah, we go way back. Way back, man. To the days, when you were just a skinny blue-eyed white boy that everybody tried to punk around the block.”

I cocked my head to the side. “But, no one punked me.”

Domingo had nothing else to say.

These were my friends in blood. We came from the same hood. Together, we rose from being in the right place at the wrong time and seizing the opportunities that came our way. As teens, we’d been runners for the big bosses—taking guns and drug money from here to there. One night, the three of us stumbled upon a gun fight in an alley. We hid behind a dumpster and watched one gang destroy the other. By then, we’d seen enough bullets slice the air and more bloodshed than most. By then, I’d become the nickname that most people whispered to themselves.

Beast.

One gang ruined the other, but they’d lost a lot of their own. Only two guys remained alive. Unfortunately for them, they’d been the wrong gang. The bosses had ordered us to collect, and I wouldn’t return to them empty handed. As the few survivors headed for their cars, I raised my own gun and shot them. Quick. Silent. And steady. Domingo pissed his pants. Rasheed rushed off to rob the dead bodies, and I grabbed the bags of guns we’d been told to deliver in the first place.

We were only fourteen, and everything had changed from there.

By twenty-one, my name put fear into men’s hearts and I’d earned a college degree. My family was good people, which was why I hid this life from them. Mom and Dad expected me to get an education, so I went to school during the day and ran the streets at night. My parents walked their own paths in life—didn’t look at television and barely read up on the news. Mom loved her garden. Dad enjoyed fishing, and they both remained enraptured by each other.

By twenty-five, I’d finished my master’s in business administration and had killed all of the same bosses that had ordered me around when I was young. I retired my parents and moved them out to the country. By twenty-five, I controlled Din City.

As a show of loyalty, I gave the North and South to the only two guys that I’d kept at my side—Domingo and Rasheed. As far as the sex game—brothels, prostitutes, and massage parlors-- I handed them over to Butterfly, making her the richest woman in Din City.

We are supposed to be family.

Now, two sat at my side with me between them, and loyalty didn’t flow like it used to. In fact, I didn’t think all three of us would walk out of my club, tonight. Too many had been killed, and they’d been dumb enough to let kids be caught in the middle of the gunfire.

“Come on, man.” Domingo’s bottom lip shivered. “Rasheed and I had your back and we’ve been here all these years. Blood was spilled, but no one has to die.”

I raised one eyebrow, already knowing the answer, but asking anyway, “Can you two just shake hands and move on from your beefs?”

“Sure. I can.” Domingo lied, “God says to forgive those that trespass against you.”

I turned to the other fool.

The dark man shook his head. “Rasheed cannot forgive.”

No hope for this. If I let them both live, then more innocent people will die over my love for them.

“What are my three rules?” I asked them both.

Domingo frowned. “One, no soldiers or runners can be female. Keep the women out of the game.”

That was why I didn’t touch Butterfly’s business. She had sole control of her women and we didn’t mix business together.

“What’s the second rule?” I asked.

Domingo looked away again. “Don’t kill kids.”

I held my hands. “Ten children have been buried over this dispute.”

That very fact made killing one of them bearable. I’d been having nightmares about dead kids. Blood coated their tiny faces. The children never spoke. They just pointed at me, screamed, and then exploded—their guts and shattered bones spraying and knocking me down. Little ones. Toddlers. Tiny mangled bodies. Innocent eyes. They haunted me.

I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. “And my last rule?”

Rasheed decided to answer. “No one kills without your permission.”

Which one of you will haunt me after your death? Which one will leave me alone?

I stopped tracing the trigger, gripped the handle, but didn’t point it at anyone. It was the same gun I’d used that first time at fourteen. It would be the same one I would use tonight.

“That day on Baker Street, when all those children died,” I said. “Which one of you was the one who shot into the crowd of kids at the playground?”

Neither spoke.

Why won’t either one of them own up to killing the kids? Make this easier for me.

A knock came behind us.

Then, even more noise.

“Trust me.” A female voice sounded behind us. “My friend knows the owner. He’s expecting me. He told me to come at this time.”

Who the fuck is that?

My soldier Fuji’s voice came next. “Ma’am, you can’t go back there.”

“Just give me a minute,” the woman said again.

Fuji, get her ass out of here.

More odd noises ensued. The whole time, Domingo and Rasheed glared at each other, and I tightened my grip on the gun.

“Ma’am!” Fuji yelled. “Stop it! No!”

Footsteps sounded next.

Is someone running in here? Who would be so stupid?

My answer came next. Sure enough, some unlucky, black woman had raced into my club. The wrong club at exactly the wrong time. Fuji’s huge behind thudded after her. The fat man had been a defensive linebacker in college. Now, the pounds had packed on in his non-athletic years. He could shoot a gun and get the bullet to the center of heads. He could wrap his hot dog fingers around any man’s neck and squeeze until bones cracked.

Fuji could do a lot of things, but apparently he could not chase down a beautiful woman and catch her.

Caramel skin and brown kinky curls bouncing, she jogged into the room, passing the bar on her left and then us on the right. Probably not noticing the gun or us, she climbed up on the stage and set a big knitted bag down at her feet. “Oh my God. I’m so, so sorry. I know you said three o’clock. And it is so not three o’clock.”

What?

Like some sort of hippy, she wore sandals and jeans tattered at the bottom. A white crocheted top finished the outfit. It did nothing to support her breasts that hung like melons in front of her.

Who the hell is this?

She hurried and grabbed the microphone, working fast with putting it in front of her and clearing her throat. “Hello? Hello?”

She tapped the top of the microphone again. “I don’t think this is on. That’s okay. I can yell out the jokes.”

Jokes? What the fuck?

Finally, Fuji got to the stage or more like his fat ass doubled over on the edge, huffing and puffing. “Boss, I tried to tell her not to come back here, but she slipped by me and then dashed away. She’s too fast.”

“I ran track and field in high school.” She beamed on the stage. “Won a lot of medals, too.”

No one said anything. Everyone, except her, turned to me.

“So.” Sighing, she rolled her shoulders a little. “Okay. Let’s get this audition started, right? Who’s ready to laugh!?”

How the hell has she managed to live this long? Does she not see the gun or the big scary guys in the room?

“My name is Mary Jane, which yes, means my mother smoked weed during the entire pregnancy.” She winked at Fuji. “Since there’s only a bunch of men in here. Let’s get sexist! What’s the difference between a g-spot and a baseball?”

No one said anything. All of the men’s eyes remained on me. All I had to do was nod and she’d be dead by any of their hands. But I had nothing to say. For some strange reason, my heart boomed in my ears, as if I feared something.

No. It can’t be fear. I haven’t been scared of anything in years.

“Come on. What’s the difference between a g-spot and a baseball? Anyone?” She glanced at Domingo’s priest collar and blushed. “Uh. . .oh. We’ve got a holy man in here. Well. . .the difference is, a man will actually take the time to find the baseball.”

“Get it?” She pressed a button on her belt and a drum sound exploded in the room. It was so startling, I almost pulled the fucking trigger.

“Who’s ready for another one?” she asked.

Fuji touched his holster. “Boss, can I kill her?”

I shook my head
no
.

“Wow! Kill me?” Mary Jane raised her hands in the air. A nervous laugh left her lips. “This is a tough room. I mean, most people throw tomatoes, but we’re getting raw here.”

“Excuse me.” Clearing my throat, I got her attention.

And she finally focused her gaze on me and slowly second-by-second, her eyes lowered to my gun. And in that moment, I would’ve bet a million dollars that she wished she hadn’t barged in here after all.

Several silent seconds passed.

“I think I have the wrong club,” she muttered.

“What gave you the first sign?” I asked.

“Umm.” She put her hands in front of her as if she could stop the bullets that might come her way. “Umm. Well. . .I don’t know what the first sign is. You see. . .I’m. . .a little blind. My eyesight is really bad. For example, I have no idea what any of you look like.” She backed up and edged toward her purse. “I don’t even know what you could or could not be holding in your hand or anything. I can’t even remember any of this.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So you’re blind and have amnesia?”

Her voice lost its confidence and came out shaky. “Yes. I’m a blind amnesiac. That’s how I’ve managed to stay so safe in Din City for so long. I mind my own business. I keep to myself. I don’t say anything to the police. Ummm. Not that I would need to talk to any police. In fact, let’s not even talk about the police.”

“No, let’s not talk about the police.” I signaled at the big guy. “Fuji, get her phone and wallet and then take her upstairs to my apartment. Oh, yeah and take that damn belt off of her and destroy it.”

“Wow,” Mary Jane said. “I’m good. I can just go home and mind my business.”

I pointed the gun at her. “Naw. You’re not good. I think you need to go upstairs and relax. You look sick.”

“Please, I swear I won’t—”

“I know you won’t. Additionally, you can’t see it, because you’re blind, but I have a gun in my hand,” I told her. “I don’t like hurting women, but I will, if necessary. Is it necessary?”

“No. Hell no to be exact. I’m all about no one hurting women either. I support that shit.” She picked up her bag and turned to Fuji. “So. . .I’m ready to check out this place.”

Not so smart, but definitely a fast learner.

She turned away from me and I couldn’t help but catch her round bottom in those jeans. If it had been another night, in another club, I would’ve spent a few minutes talking to her. Not for too long though. I never had to work hard with a chick. But it wasn’t another night, and this was my club.

Even worse, she’d already seen too much. Something had to be done with her, and I didn’t think I liked the options. I watched her bottom swing from side-to-side as Fuji led her away and they both disappeared up the staircase.

Nice ass.

It was that very ass that triggered the problem for the next couple of days. Because as soon as my focus left the men, Domingo seized the opportunity and shoved the table toward Rasheed, knocking him and me to the ground.

“Fuck!” I still had the gun, but those few seconds had given Domingo time to grab a knife from his ankle. He charged around the table and stabbed Rasheed in the center of his forehead.

Rasheed! No!

Blood dripped from my friend’s forehead as life left his eyes. My heart pounded. Dizziness ensued. I had to blink through my phobia. Change my thoughts to something else, and in that moment it was easy. I wanted revenge.