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I was surprised he didn’t start spinning around with his arms wide while holding the bloody nail file like he was in a demented version ofThe Sound of Music.
“It’s only a matter of time,” he said. “They’re most likely already on their way.” He pulled the gun from the back of his waistband and waved it in the air. “I’m ready for them. I want them all dead but Perry, then he’ll see what I’ve done to be with him. The lengths I’d gone to just for him.”
This guy needed to be dead. Not committed in a psych ward. Not held in prison waiting to stand trial. Dead. Because I didn’t think there was any other way he’d stop. He’d proven he was a master manipulator. Not only did he fly under the radar at Dexen’s club but also at JJ’s shop. They were two men I wouldn’t want to fuck with, yet Emerald did. He had to have been smart to get his aliases in place for background checks. He had to know how to control computer systems.
“Now, I have something else in store for you.” He went over to the trunk of a car that was sitting in the bay next to the one I was hanging in. Emerald unrolled a piece of fabric and pulled out a needle. Taking it between his fingers, he plunged it into a small brown vial, drawing liquid into the syringe. “This will make you sleepy for a bit. If I accidentally give you too much… oops!” He laughed that crazy laugh and came closer to me.
This time I didn’t care how much it hurt to move. I swung the best I could, kicked out, did what I needed to but, in the end, it wasn’t enough. Emerald went behind me and jammed the needle into the outside of my thigh.
“There,” I heard him say before he came back into view. “In about ten or so minutes you’ll start to feel sleepy. But don’t worry, you won’t remember what’s going to happen, which is probably good because I plan on walking out of here with Perry and killing everyone else. You’ll live… maybe… just so you can see the carnage I brought to your life.” He pulled the chair over and sat down again. The needle was back on the car trunk. The gun rested on his lap. And that bloody file raked over his nails like he didn’t notice the gore on it. “We could have made a lot of money if we danced together, but you didn’t want that. You had to command the whole stage. I should shoot you and be done with it, but then I lose my bargaining chip. As long as you’re alive, I can get what I want.”
God, why did I open my fucking door today? Why didn’t I leave for work earlier? Why didn’t I fight Emerald? If I lived through this—if we all did—I wanted Dexen’s brother to train me, to teach me how to kick ass. I sure as fuck never wanted to go through this again. I could also hope once it was over, someone killed Emerald, preferably with his nail file to his jugular.
29
PERRY
As a teenager, my dad tried to explain to me what it meant to be in the mafia. I’d heard rumors around school, kids talking and whispering about me. Not JJ because Jordan had him schooled at home with a private teacher. He didn’t risk his son being out in the public school. God no. I always knew Jordan was protective of JJ but couldn’t understand why. Now I knew it had nothing to do with an overprotective parent, but someone who was concerned with their image and how everything JJ did reflected on Jordan.
It was right before high school when my dad explained things to me. What it meant to traffic guns and drugs like Jordan did. He wanted me to understand, so I could grasp it. Did it scare me? Fuck yes. But I also knew Jordan had never been mean to me. Had never tried to hurt us, so I had no reason to fear him per se.
The older I got, the more I picked up at family gatherings. Jordan liked to talk business with Malik. He either didn’t think I was listening or didn’t care. I heard a lot of the things he said, and I would try to process them.
Then my dad died, and I didn’t have the buffer from Jordan any longer. I didn’t have the safety net of my dad protecting me because he did. He was the opposite of Jordan. Now I had to deal with my uncle. I had to be the one to talk to him at family gatherings. I was the one who had JJ as a partial owner in my company.
It was in the back of Peyton’s Tahoe when these memories entered the forefront of my mind. While I hadn’t witnessed the harsh reality of what Jordan did before, I was getting a taste of it while watching JJ and Greer make sure their guns were loaded as they flexed their hands, getting ready. Peyton already had his loaded.
The three of them made plans while we drove. JJ told them access points and what the best option was to enter his shop undetected. Greer opened the glove compartment and pulled out another gun. I knew it was in there. But he fucking handed it to me.Me!I didn’t want a gun. Sure, I’d learned how to properly use one. That didn’t mean I liked it. I didn’t shoot for fun or because I had to. The thought of doing so made my stomach churn.
“You have to take it, Perry,” Greer said. “We don’t know what we’re walking into, and I want you armed. You know how to use it.”
I stared at the gun like it was a live grenade waiting to go off.
“Perry.” Peyton’s voice snapped me out of the trance. “Dom could be in trouble. Do you want to go in there armed with one of his pencils or a gun to go after someone who could potentially be hurting him? You can hit a bull’s-eye. You’re a bit rusty but you’re not a wild card. You’ll be able to hit someone if you need to. Plus, we need you to be able to defend yourself.” When he said it like that…
I hesitantly took the gun from Greer and gently held on to it. I didn’t want to have this, yet the thought of Dominic being in trouble made me grip it tighter.
Peyton pulled the Tahoe up to a curb about a block from JJ’s shop as to not give us away.
East Dremest wasn’t run-down, dirty streets, drug deals on every corner, and gangs fighting it out. There wasn’t garbage on the ground or homeless men and women on the streets. Jordan had shelters for them and programs in place to assist them. That was one of the things about my uncle, he did do good sometimes. He wasn’t all bad. Unless someone looked at the heart of it then they’d see he did this for himself, to keep his turf clean, to have another layer of goodness to hide his evilness under.
JJ’s shop was in the low-income end of East Dremest. He could have opened it anywhere, but he chose there. I wondered if it was so those who couldn’t afford the pricey repairs of some garages could have access to his. The more I learned about my cousin, the more I saw he was a complex man, who just needed his layers peeled back to get to the very heart of him.
We were about to get out of the SUV when JJ’s phone rang. He put it on speaker. Another reason to think JJ truly had nothing to hide and didn’t have anything to do with Dominic being down here.
“Yeah?”
“Jay, are you in the shop?” the man on the other end asked.
“No, Val, but I’m about to go in.”
“Don’t. I’m going to check it out. I was driving by, and the lights in the bays were on so I stopped. We closed up over an hour ago. No one should be in there.”
“Val, there may be something happening in there and we can’t rush in. We have to be methodical. A life might be on the line.”
“Got it. I’ll meet you along the lot side.” He hung up.
“Son of a bitch. That kid is going to lose his head one day.”
