Beware 2: The Comeback (20 page)

“Stop doing that,” I snap, stepping forward. “Stop touching him.”

“I know,” Greg says again. “There’s someone else.”

I blink, speechless.

“Ace Crow,” he says so calmly that it makes goosebumps crawl on my skin. I glance at my purse, spotting the danger in Greg’s eyes.

“H-how do you know that name?” I ask.

He chuckles, pulling away from Aden and stepping forward. “Asking questions wouldn’t be very wise right now, London.”

“Greg, I—”

“NO!” he roars, causing me to flinch and waking Aden. “No, London! Don’t feed me the bullshit. I already know! You fucking betrayed me. Stupid fucking
bitch
!”

Aden stirs on the table before sitting up and looking at me. “Mommy?”

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, stepping forward. I start to reach for him, but Greg stops me, shoving me back. He then grabs Aden and picks him up in his arms, stepping towards the patio door. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“You lied to me. There’s a price for that.”

“Greg! Give me my son!” I demand, shouting.

Aden looks from Greg to me and instantly he tears up. “Mommy!” he wails.

“It’s okay, sweetie. He won’t hurt you.”

Greg laughs as if that’s a total lie. “That’s what I led you to believe? Funny.”

Eyes expanding, I watch as Greg walks to the door and twists the knob. Before he can get out, I turn for my purse and pull out the gun. I take the safety off and point it at him, teeth clamped. Greg comes to halt, looking through the corner of his eye.

“A gun? Who gave you that? Crow?”

I ignore him. “Give me my son.”

“Lifting his free hand in the air, he turns in my direction, a sneer on his lips. I don’t expect him to cooperate, but he places Aden on his feet, and once he’s down, Aden runs to me, clinging to my thigh. He cries, distraught, and it hurts my heart. My child in danger. I swore I would never let this happen. Anger seizes me, but I keep my gun pointed at Greg who stands in the middle of the kitchen, eyes dark, and lips pressed thin.

“Give me your gun,” I demand. He doesn’t budge so I bark, “NOW!”

He reaches for his gun, shaking his head and laughing silently as he pulls it out of the holster.

“Turn the safety on and slide it across.” He does so without a word. “Now,” I pant, gesturing towards the corner with my gun. “Back the fuck up.” Once he backs to the corner, I rush for him, pulling out his handcuffs. I order him to go down to the basement, waving the gun.

“Aden, stay up here. Okay baby?”

He nods, standing in the middle of the kitchen. I follow Greg to the basement. “Do anything stupid, and I will shoot you. I mean it.”

“I bet. Hanging out with a crazy fuck like Crow makes you do crazy things.”

“Shut the hell up,” I snarl. “How do you even know who he is?”

“Know things,” he laughs. “I know people that want him dead.
I
want him dead.”

He opens the basement door and takes each step slowly. I order him to go to the corner, near the barred window. Pulling out the cuffs, I cuff one of his wrists to it, and ask for the key. He hands it to me. He’s making this way too easy for me. What is he planning? “Why?” I ask.

“Why, what,
bitch
?”

My face contorts, anger flooding my veins. Lowering the gun, I punch him square in the face. It hurts like a bitch, and the crunch of bones makes me want to cringe, but I stay solid.

Laughing and recovering with a split upper lip and bloody nose, Greg says, “This was all planned, London. All of it. Me and you. I was ordered to watch you. Pretend to love you and Aden. Pretend I’m the perfect fucking man and a way for you to start over.”

Tears prick my eyes. I walk away from him with my gun still held up. I pull out my keys from my pocket, unlock the drawer of the desk, and pull out the diamonds, letters, and pictures.

I hurry for the staircase, but before I go, I tell him, “I was never in love with you anyway. How could I be? You weren’t him. I hope you fucking die down here.” I rush upstairs as he shouts and curses behind me. Slamming the door closed and locking the locks, I run to the kitchen for Aden and thank God he’s still there.

“Come on, sweetie,” I coo to him, picking him up in my arms. I put the safety on my gun as well as Greg’s, stuff them in my purse along with my keys and personal items, and then I rush out the front door.

After buckling Aden in his car seat, I climb in the front seat and start the car immediately, whipping out my cellphone. I start to pull out while scrolling through my call list, hoping to catch Ace before he gets too far, but a black truck comes to a screeching halt behind me, and a sharp gasp fills the car. “Mommy! What’s happening?” Aden cries.

“Nothing, baby,” I tell him. I’m lying. Too much is going on, and I’m fucking terrified. The person steps out of the car, marching for my side. Putting the car in drive, I drop my phone and make a sharp right turn, rolling through the grass and over the sidewalk.

Relief courses through me when I make it onto the street, but that relief rapidly vanishes as two black SUVs appear ahead, tires skidding as they turn and block the road. My heartbeat picks up. Terror assaults me. Aden cries harder in the backseat, and I want to take care of him. I want to keep him safe, but I know I no longer can. The guns I have won’t stop these men. Nothing will stop them. Not until they get the person they want.

Ace.

Before I know it, my window shatters and glass flies onto me, piercing my skin. I scream as the door is yanked open and my body is snatched out. Greg laughs as he pulls me against him, but I fight for my life, scratching at his face, his arms, everything. I hear Aden crying in the car the more I fight, but then a gun goes off, causing me to go completely still.

Footsteps crunch across the asphalt, rapid. My heart races as Greg keeps me hoisted in his arms, gripping mine. I keep fighting, for my son, for myself, but its no use.

“Stop, London,” a voice demands. I come to a total standstill as I turn towards the voice, and when
he
steps into the light, I can’t fucking believe it.

“Oh my God,” I breathe.

He smirks, and lifting his hands in the air, he says, “Surprise.” Then his face stiffens, arms dropping. “Take her out.”

“No!” I scream as he goes for the back door of my car and pulls Aden out. Aden weeps, calling for me, needing me. My stomach knots, brewing with extreme frustration. “Please, no!” I scream again. “He has nothing to do with this! Let him go!” Tears slide down my cheeks. “Not my son! Please!” I fight my hardest to set myself free, but in less than five seconds, after Greg curses beneath his breath and I watch the man in charge walk away with my sobbing son as if he can’t even hear me, I black out. I’m not sure why or what it’s from, but I drown in a sea of darkness.

A suffocating, petrifying sea of black.

Blood On The Leaves – Kanye West

“I can still trust you, right?” I turn my head, looking Trent over in his navy blue suit as he starts the car. When I ask, he whips his head, green eyes wide, face blank. Then, he blinks, sighing.

Running his fingers through his ash-brown hair, he asks, “Do you believe you can trust me, Boss?”

“Not sure who I can trust anymore.” I look out the passenger window, watching as the busy New York pedestrians rush across the street as the light flashes from red to green. Smoke billows out of manholes; the air smells of hotdogs, pizza, and a slight trace of cigarette smoke. Oh, how I’ve missed the city.

“I know.” Trent speaks again. “I’m sure when you saw me you thought I was a threat.”

I don’t say anything.

He continues. “Ace, what we had with Crow… that shit was real. I never thought I’d see the day that it all went to hell. We were strong and too fucking smart—”

“But someone outside of Crow was smarter.” My face hardens as I watch him, jaw locking. Trent grips the wheel, his line of sight maneuvering from the pedestrians to the cars. Silence occupies the car for several seconds. He doesn’t dare look my way. “I trust you,” I state, terminating the silence.

He looks my way, surprised. “Sure?”

I nod. “I hired my men to fight for me. I hired men I trusted. Jonah and Krane were my only faults, and Jonah had his reasons but Krane… he obviously worked for someone who had bigger plans for him. It wasn’t just about getting revenge on Jonah. Went to shit for him, but I know you would never do that to me.” I cap his shoulder. “Let’s figure this shit out and get the hell on with our lives.”

He grins, nodding. “There’s one thing,” he starts as he reaches for the stick shift. I look up at him, my eyes telling him to continue. “After this job is done, I’ll be moving on too. I have a family now. A wife. A daughter and a son. Four and six.”

“I heard.”

“They need me more than Crow.”

“I know. And with them is where you should me.”

“When it’s done, what will you do?” he inquires.

Pressing my lips, I turn my head, gaze pointed forward. I don’t speak right away but he waits for my response. After giving it some thought, I say, “I’ll miss it, but I’ll be moving on too.” A ghost of a smile lands on my lips. “Like you, I have a family that needs me more than Crow. If anything ever happens to them because of me and my choices, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Trent relaxes, sitting back in his seat. I look his way, and he’s grinning, shaking his head. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he laughs, grabbing the stick and pulling off. “Just never thought I’d see the day Crow fell in love, had a kid… none of it. For a while, I thought you’d remain single. Alone.”

I chuckle. “Shit changes. She opened my eyes.”

“Yeah, I see. The old Crow wouldn’t be waiting around, watching Baker’s every move. He’d have already killed her by now.”

I nod, staring ahead at the crimson Audi three cars ahead of us. Stella Baker is in that car. That bitch. Walking around without a care in the world. She should be watching her back. This is far from over. “Yeah,” I sigh. “A lot has changed. Plus, I have big plans for Stella.” I glance down at the black bag between my legs. “Really big plans.”

“Think she’ll talk?” Trent questions.

“With what I have in store, she better.”

***

Baker is in her office until ten. It’s dark out, windy as hell. We’ve been parked at this curb for six hours. I’m tired, irritable, and I’m getting impatient. A part of me wants to run upstairs, kick her fucking door in, and snatch her out of there, but I know that isn’t wise. It’ll cause too much of a scene. I can’t afford to be caught right now. Not when I’m
this
close.

Trent is asleep in the driver’s seat, but when I see the doors of her building slide open and watch her walk out with a briefcase in one hand, her cellphone glued to her ear with the other, I reach for Trent and shake him. I don’t take my eyes off her. Trent perks up, swiping at his eyes and looking at me. When he realizes what I’m looking at, he looks as well then starts the car immediately.

Baker pulls off. “Follow her.”

He pulls off, tailing Baker as she makes a right turn. He doesn’t get too close, always making sure to keep at least three cars between ours and hers. After following her for approximately ten minutes, she makes a left turn, and a tall, silver building with tinted blue windows appears.

Condos.

She lives here.

Trent stops right before reaching the entrance, turning his headlights off and watching as Baker hops out of her car and tosses her keys to the valet. She’s still on the phone, completely oblivious.

After putting my black gloves on, I clutch the door handle and push out of the car. “Let’s go.”

Trent follows closely behind, slipping his gloves on as I pace towards the entrance. Once I reach the front door, I slow down, walking in casually. Condos like these, the ones that cost close to eight thousand dollars a month to rent out,
always
have security watching. We can’t look too suspicious. “Keep your head down, gaze away from the cameras,” I inform Trent. “There’s one to the left, behind us, and to the right of the elevator.”

Classic piano music fills the lobby area as we walk in. Spotting Baker at the elevators alone, now texting, Trent and I make our way towards her and seeing her, so alone—so fucking defenseless and so easy to kill—causes something to snap inside me. I’m on full throttle. I feel as if I can no longer be controlled, like I’m here, meant to do what I have to do. Meant to do what I was raised to do.

Kill.

Rage consumes me. I frown at her back, but I contain my composure.

Meeting at Baker’s side, I stare up at the descending numbers. Trent steps to her right. I speak. “Stella Baker.” I sing her name, but it’s not delightful. It’s dark. Throaty.

Her body goes absolutely still, and with shaky hands, she lowers her phone. Before she can put it away, Trent snatches it away from her, tucking it in his back pocket. She gasps and takes a step back, but I tell her, “If you try to run, if you even try to scream, I will put a bullet in the back of your fucking skull. Stay still. Remain casual.” After I speak, the elevator doors slide open, and I place my hand on the small of her back, purposely shoving her into the cart.

Before walking inside, I take a quick look around. Trent goes for the camera of the elevator, reaching up and turning it in the opposite direction. I step inside the elevator, and when the doors close, I step in front of Baker, nostrils flared, jaw ticking like never before. She stares up at me, shaking like a leaf trapped in a hurricane.

“What floor?” I demand.

“S-seven.” She tries blinking her tears away. “A-ace,” she stutters. “H-holy shit.”

I don’t speak right away, just stare, which obviously intimidates her. As the elevator ascends, I can’t help but think of every way that I want to break her in fucking half, tear her limb from fucking limb. Calmly, I ask, “Why are you so afraid? Act like you’re staring at a ghost.”

A deep chuckle from Trent fills the cart.

“I-I thought you were dead. Everyone thinks you’re dead!” she replies rapidly.

“No, no.” I scowl. “You knew I wasn’t dead. Don’t play stupid with me, Stella.”

“Ace.” Defeated, she lowers her head and tears roll down her cheeks. She trembles uncontrollably, sobbing, begging.

“Why are you begging?”

“Don’t hurt me,” she whispers, holding her hands up, pleading. “Please… don’t hurt me.”

The elevator chimes, and the doors fly open. I grab her arm and shove her out, following closely behind. “No deal. You fucked with the wrong one, Stella. You don’t realize how badly I
need
to hurt you.”

“Oh, God!” she wails.

I cup her mouth, pulling her aside. “Shut the fuck up and tell me what your room number is?”

I uncover her mouth. “Seven-zero-seven.” She points down the hallway, and I grip her by the hook of the arm, rushing towards the door as Trent keeps watch.

I take her keys and unlock the door, and as soon as we’re inside, I toss Baker’s body towards the leather sofa. She cries out, crumpling to her knees as her briefcase slides across the floor.

Trent walks in, nodding as he shuts the door behind him, a sign that we’re clear. Shoulders hunched, I stalk towards Baker, yanking her up by the hair and rushing for the dining room table.

“Ace, PLEASE!” she cries.

I shove her in the seat. “Remember this table?” I question, gripping the back of her head and slamming her face on the glazed mahogany wood. “Bought this table for you, fucked you on this table, and you betray me?”

“I-I swear I didn’t know!”

“Didn’t know what?!” I bark.

“I didn’t know they wanted to kill you!”

I release the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of hair and snatching her back up. I can’t help but get up close and personal, feel her fear vibrating off of her. It’s been way too long since this has happened. My dark passenger, the darkness inside me, has invaded my entire soul, and he won’t leave until this shit is settled. “Who are
they
?” I rasp.

Her bottom lips quivers, and she shakes her head as blood spills out of her nose. I tug harder on her hair so that it’s no longer pain she’s feeling, but torture. “Ouch—Ace, please! No! If I tell you, he’ll kill me!”

I laugh, releasing her hair. “They won’t get around to killing you. That’s my job.”

Her head lowers, almost in shame. “Please,” she begs, her black hair shielding her face.

Impatient, I march for the black bag I dropped on the coffee table and pull out my Swiss Army Knife and a pair of pliers. When I flip open the knife, the sharp metal flies out, the sight of its glistening, pointy edge pleasing me. Trent comes my way, grabbing Baker’s hand and slamming the palm of it on the table. She screams, but he covers her mouth. “Shut up and be still,” he demands in a low growl.

Baker looks up, eyes wet and pleading. That puppy-dog shit won’t get by me. She played me. She fucked me over. She knows something. “For every minute of time you waste by not giving me answers, I will clip a finger off. If it reaches ten minutes, I run out of fingers, and you still haven’t given me the information I want to hear, I will bleed you dry.” Gripping her face tight in my hand, I ask through gritted teeth, “Do you understand?”

She nods, her hair flying all over the place.

Releasing her, I step back and walk around the table, listening as she moans in fear. I pick up the briefcase lying on the floor and bring it to the table. When I open it, I flip through the stacks of paper, lipstick, and some other junk until I reach the bottom.

A blue folder with my name on the tab.

My eyes flicker up to Stella, but hers are shut, most likely praying to be spared. Flipping the folder open, I look through its contents. There are pictures of the burnt alley. The brick walls are blackened, cars blown to bits, ashes and remains everywhere. On one of the pictures, there are white outlines of where each body was. Four of those outlines stand out to me the most. I remember the exact spots they lay when they died—how they died right in front of my very eyes.

Gerrick.