"Whatever. Listen—the rumor is the brother borrowed the money from us to buy a large shipment from the cartel."
Now that was interesting. "Cocaine?"
"A mix, I heard. Coke, dope, weed—the kid bought a lot. He should have made a nice return on his investment, even after paying his dealers, the loan to us and the balance to the cartel,"
"But?" He sensed this story had a hell of a twist coming.
"The dumbass got robbed." Devil paused a moment, as if waiting for him to put the puzzle pieces together.
"By the 1-8-7 crew?"
"That's the rumor."
"Uh-huh." He crossed his arms and stretched out his long legs as far as they would go. "This was no coincidence. The same gang who ripped him off just happened to steal the car we repossessed from him? I don't buy it."
"You shouldn't. The stories I heard about the brother? He's a bad seed."
"I know. He hurt Aston. More than once," he added, certain the few instances she had told him were just the tip of the iceberg. "He thinks he's smart, playing all of us off each other. He borrows the money from us with no intention of paying it back and used a car that didn't belong to him to pay the balance so he wouldn't take the hit. Then he has his little asshole crew steal the cars from us. So now he has money, cars to sell and the drugs. But the cartel—Lalo's men—will tear this city up looking for the people who stole their product. He has no idea what he's done."
"If he does know, he doesn't care." Devil pointed to the glove box. "The rest of our men are waiting for us at the 1-8-7 headquarters. We'll knock them around and get our cars back."
"I suspect one of the boosters betrayed us." He found a clean piece and ammo waiting for him. "They knew which storage center we were using tonight, and they were the only ones we didn't have eyes on all night. They could have gotten keys made easily."
"I figured as much. I sent Karl and Peter to round them up and take them to the warehouse." A harsh laugh escaped Devil's throat. "They'll probably piss themselves when they see it."
Ben had seen harder men than the boosters do the same thing when faced with the place. The mention of the warehouse and the things that had been done there brought silence to the cab of the truck. He couldn't help but think about the young kids who were about to learn a painful lesson about the ugly underworld they had chosen to infiltrate. This wasn't a game. The sooner they learned the harsh realities, the better.
When they arrived at a rundown dance club, the parking lot was empty except for an SUV and two cars. They had passed three vehicles carrying their own men two blocks down the street. One of them went round to the front to block the entrance. The other two followed them into the lot so they could hit the upstart crew hard and fast from the rear.
At twenty-seven, Ben was younger than every other man in the crew, but they looked to him for guidance because he had earned his spot as mik for their crew by getting his hands dirty. He made a gesture that said not to kill anyone. There would be blood and pain, but he didn't want the mess of cleaning up anything worse on his hands—or his conscience.
When Devil used all seven feet of his beastly body to kick in the door, Ben heard Aston's voice urging him to be careful. Like a bunch of cockroaches hit with a beam of light, the twelve guys getting high and drinking after hours scattered across the club's main floor. There wasn't anywhere to run, of course, but that didn't stop them from trying. The pounding, thumping bass of hip hop music covered the clash of vicious fighting. For a band of street-wise punks, they were terrible fighters. Only one of them, the youngest one, got in any good licks. Seeing one of their own teetering on the edge of being shanked, Devil stepped over and slammed his massive fist into the face of that kid. The smaller body dropped to the ground.
Ben caught a familiar younger man by the back of his shirt and jerked him close. It was the kid who had tried to attack Abby Kirkwood, the pawn shop owner under the family's protection, over some stupid beef about gold chains. Later, he had thrown a brick through her front window. The boss had beat the shit out of the kid for daring to harm an innocent woman and had warned him not to stray across the territory lines again. Apparently the lesson hadn't taken hold. This time it would.
Half an hour later, the crew was trussed up with extension cords and ropes and piled together in the center of the dance floor. Someone finally turned down the music. Ben cleaned his bloodied knuckles on a bar towel Devil had slapped against his chest and crouched down to stare into the panicked eyes of the 1-8-7 kids.
And they were just kids. They were nineteen and twenty years old, too stupid to know better than to poke the hornet's nest but old enough to understand this night could only end one of two ways.
"So, which one of you assholes is in charge now?"
The kid who had tried to hurt Abby raised his bound hands. "Me."
"You?" Ben glanced around the room, but no one else volunteered for the position. "Okay." He reached out and dabbed at the trickle of blood running from the nose of the younger man he had caught. It was a comforting gesture meant to be disarming and unsettling. "Where are the cars?"
The kid swallowed hard before finally admitting, "We stashed them. They're sitting in a junk yard."
"All of them?"
The kid shook his head, the gold chains around his neck rattling. "I gave the James Bond car to Lalo Contreras as repayment for a debt."
"Calvin's debt?"
"Yes."
"What do you know about him?" The kid hesitated so Ben gripped the front of his shirt. "You know what will happen if you lie to me."
He gulped nervously. "He hired us to break into his house and steal all of the drugs he'd bought from Lalo. He put us in touch with a booster from your crew who told us where to find the cars tonight."
Ben glanced at Devil who still had blood drying on his hands before looking back at the kid. "Where's the shipment Calvin had you steal?"
"I've got it hidden some place safe. He's supposed to pick it up tomorrow night."
"Well, you're going to take me to it tonight." Ben hastily formulated a plan to get Aston's car back. "You really thought you would get away with it?"
The petrified expression the kid wore convinced Ben this crew had never even considered they might fail. He didn't know whether to find that sort of bravery and confidence impressive or utterly stupid.
Ben rose to his full height and pointed at the youngest kid in the crew. He had finally come around after Devil dropped him with that punch. The little bastard probably wasn't even out of high school yet. "You're going to take my men to the junk yard to get our cars."
"Y-yes, sir."
Ben gave orders for half of his crew to head for the junk yard. One of his men asked if he should kill the kid and leave him in the trunk of a car, but Ben shook his head.
The rest of the men were left with Devil to guard their prisoners and the club. When he stepped away from the group, his scarred friend followed him. Before Ben asked, Devil presented him with the keys to his truck. "Try not to wreck this one, huh?"
"I'll do my best." He glanced around the club and then at the group of young men huddled together in the center of the dance floor. They were starting to separate into small cliques, wiggling away from each other and betraying their mistrust. It was a sad sight. There was no unity in this crew and nothing to bind them together. They would fracture after tonight and this upstart gang would be reduced to a cautionary tale. This is what happens when you raid an eagle's nest.
Addressing him in Albanian so their captives wouldn't understand, Devil asked, "What do you want me to do with them?"
"They're thieves." It was all he had to say.
"And the club?"
"Burn it."
As he left the building gripping his bound prisoner by the back of the neck, Ben experienced the briefest pang of guilt and regret at how easily he gave such terrible orders. He shoved the kid into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt. Not because he wanted to keep him safe but to deter him from trying
to bail while they drove.
The rap music grew louder as Ben backed out of the parking spot. No doubt Devil had turned up the volume to hide the wailing cries that would soon erupt when he unsheathed that wicked knife of his. His passenger noticed and swallowed loudly. "Are you going to kill my friends?"
"Not tonight," he answered honestly. "Do you know what we do to thieves?"
The kid shook his head so Ben lifted his hand and wiggled his pointer finger. His captive paled and looked sick. "It's a small price," Ben reminded him. "It's a hell of a lot better than a knife to the throat."
"Yeah," he weakly agreed. "It wasn’t personal, you know? We didn't want to cross you or Lalo, but Calvin is our boss—"
Ben couldn't help himself. He laughed at the absurdity of it. "He's your boss? What? You guys think you're starting up your own little mafia?" When the kid didn't answer, he realized that's exactly what they thought they were doing. "Are you really that fucking stupid? Do you know who runs this town?"
"Nikolai Kalasnikov."
"Did you think he was going to let some new outfit shoulder their way into the inner circle and upset the careful balance he maintains? Huh?"
"Calvin said that with Besian out of town and the cartel about to start a civil war, we could take what we wanted. He said this was the time to strike. He said—"
"I don't give a shit what Calvin said. I asked what you thought would happen if you made this move."
"I didn't think. I just…I wanted it. I wanted it all."
"That greed is going to get you killed."
"Tonight?"
Ben didn't answer because he honestly wasn't sure. Lalo would want the kid's head as a deterrent for anyone else who thought they could steal from one of his dealers. Though it wasn't a pleasant thought, Ben recognized that it would be easier to get Baby back from Lalo if he gave him the kid as a gift. Could he do that?
His lack of a reply silenced the kid who gripped the seatbelt with shaking hands. The sight of all that trembling made him remember the first night he had been thrown into the adult side of the jail. One of his mother's rich and well-connected customers had managed to get him out the next morning but that night he had been terrified. He hadn’t grown into his full height or bulked up yet so he was smaller and easily subdued, especially with the group of men jammed into that cell.
But Devil had been there that night. He had never met the man everyone in the Albanian crew called Dreq, but one look at that face and he had known. Somehow Devil had recognized him as Seline's son and Besian's sort-of ward. He had kept Ben safe that night. Two days later, Devil started training him to fight and build muscle. Within six months, he had been the mafia's newest enforcer. The rest was history.
"Left at the next light," the kid said finally. "You know Carston's Floors and More?" When Ben nodded, he said, "It's closed now and the building is empty. It's a good hiding place."
Within five minutes, they were parked in the alley behind the bankrupt business. The kid squeezed in through a broken window and Ben had no choice but to follow him. He did it carefully and with his weapon at the ready. If this little shit tried to attack him, he wouldn't hesitate. He wasn't going to let anyone rob him of the chance to slide back into bed with Aston.
The kid grabbed a couple of flashlights from a work table and handed one over to him. Ben flicked it on and used it to do a quick sweep of the place. Most of the inventory had been cleared out during the final blowout sale, but there were still pallets of tile, rolls of carpet and boxes of laminate flooring stacked around the storeroom. With a wave of his flashlight beam, he gestured for the kid to keep moving.
In the far corner of the storeroom, hidden behind rolls of thick, blue carpet, sat two pallets loaded down with more drugs than Ben had ever seen at one time. It was an absolute fucking fortune in product and the biggest take their family had ever gotten over on another crew. He prayed the extra cash would soften Besian's anger when the time came.
Digging out his phone, Ben called Zec and hoped the infamous international smuggler had landed in Houston. When the call went to voicemail, his hope deflated. Before he had tucked it back into his pocket, the phone began to ring and his hope flared to life again. "Zec?"
"I hear we have a little problem." The gravelly voice that greeted him inspired a chill deep in his chest. Though Zec had never treated him with anything but respect, he had heard about the man's peculiar appetites. There weren't many people who scared Ben but Zec was one of them.
"I took care of it. We'll have the cars in hand soon." He eyed the baggies and bricks in front of him. "I have something you'll want to see."
"Is that so?"
"Yes." He rattled off the address of the building. "I'll be here."
"Alone?"
Ben glanced at the kid who held the flashlight between his bound hands and swallowed anxiously. Glad they were speaking Albanian, he said, "Yes."
The phone call ended, and Ben tucked away the phone. He stared at the kid for a moment. "What's your name?"
"Tayshaun."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
Ben's jaw clenched. "Do you have family?"
"I've got a sister up in Dallas."
"That's it?"
"She's got three kids."
"And a husband?"
"No."
"Boyfriend?"
"No. She's alone. She works nights as a nurse in one of the emergency rooms there."
Ben's gaze slid to the shelves behind Tayshaun. He crossed to them, quietly and with purpose, and grasped the handle of the tile knife there. Tayshaun's breath hitched. For a moment, Ben thought he might try to run, but the kid finally found the courage to man up and face what was coming to him.
"Can you make sure my sister—?"
"You can tell her whatever it is you want to say when you see her later." Ben snatched Tayshaun's hands and cut the rope binding them together. He dragged one hand to the nearest table and steeled himself for the blood that would soon cover its surface.
"You're letting me go?"
"I'm giving you a chance I never had." He pressed the edge of the knife into the kid's throat, nicking his darker skin and watching the blood pool along the silver edge of the blade. "If you're smart, you'll get out of town immediately. You don't call anyone. You don't text anyone. You forget about everyone you ever knew in Houston. You run to Dallas, and you never look back." He pushed the blade a little harder against Tayshaun's throat. "If I ever find out you came back here—"
"I won't," he swore it like a vow. "I'll leave right now."
"You had better. Lalo Contreras will have your dick for what you've done. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Ben tried not to think about where this sudden burst of mercy had originated. Less than a night in Aston McNeil's company and already he was getting soft. Besian would smack the shit out of him if he could see him now. Disgusted with his own weakness, he moved the knife to Tayshaun's finger.
Flattening his hand on the tabletop, the kid inhaled a shaky breath. "Do it, man. Just do it!"
So he did.
Chapter Five
My ringing cell phone dragged me out of a fitful sleep. Inhaling sharply, I scrubbed a hand down my face and reached for my phone. Without looking at the screen, I swiped my finger across it and lifted the device to my ear. "Hello?"
"Aston."
My stepbrother's deceptively warm voice jerked me fully awake. "Calvin. Where are you?"
"Well, it's an interesting thing. You see, I have Baby. In fact, I'm sitting in her right now. With a can of gasoline and a box of matches," he added with a shrill laugh. "Can you imagine the bonfire? It's going to be beautiful, probably even prettier than the time I burned all of your mother's photos."
My stomach churned painfully at the memory. He had gathered up every photo of her in the house along with her wedding dress and other mementos my father had kept for me, taken them outside and thrown them into a flaming fire pit. That had been the
night Daddy finally realized I wasn't being a jealous, petty little girl who wanted to break up his new marriage. It was also the last night Calvin had lived in our home. By the next morning, he had been packed off to a military academy. Not that it had helped any…
Tired of his cruel games, I sighed with resignation. "What do you want?"
"I want what's mine."
"And what is that? You were given everything that was promised to you in the will." I had given him more than that, actually, in the hopes that he would go away and never bother me again.
"I want my father's company." His venomous voice made me shudder. "Jack stole it from me the same way he stole my mother."
He sounded like a petulant child. It occurred to me that he might be a man in age, but he was perpetually frozen as a bitter, sadistic little boy. "Is that what this is about? Is this why you've been tormenting me since we were kids?"
"I tormented you because it made me laugh to see you cry. If you weren't so fucking weak, I might have stopped after the night I gave you to Russ, after your father finally understood what it felt like to have someone take something precious from you."
The way he spoke made me wonder what Russ had told him about that night. Had Russ lied about raping me to protect me from Calvin? Had my father gone along with the lie and allowed Calvin to think he had succeeded in his vicious trick to protect me? As far as I knew, Russ and Calvin had never spoken again after that night. Was there another man I owed a favor and a debt of gratitude?
"The company is gone, Calvin. It was completely dissolved."
"Not all of it," he argued. "Jack kept everything from the research and development department of Darbin Industries inside his safe."
I tried to remember exactly what the company my father had gobbled up in one of his acquisitions actually did. It was something to do with satellites. After Calvin's father had been arrested for drunk driving, the company's revenues had tanked. A few months later, he had died in a small-engine plane crash. Shortly after Daddy acquired Darbin Industries, he had started dating Marjorie. Calvin had been fourteen then. Had it looked as if my father was taking everything away from him? Even so, that was no excuse to do the awful things he had done.