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“I’d kill you before you got your hands free,” I warn him.
He stops moving. “He wants me dead because I have evidence on them all,” he whispers. “Even the person who sent you.”
“Sorry, what?” I ask, thinking I didn’t hear him right.
“What do they call him on the streets? Um…Pops?” he asks, staring at me and waiting for a reaction. “I have enough dirt to send the force after them.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you do.” I give him a bored look. Pops makes sure everything is done and disposed of. He is clean, remarkably clean.
“His women. He loves his women,” he adds. And he isn’t wrong. Pops does love women. “They talk, you know. Some were even sent in to gather evidence.”
“Where is it?” I ask, standing.
“You’ll let me live?”
“Where is it?” I ask again. “If I have to ask a third time, I’ll cut your fingers off.”
He nods his head to the kitchen cabinet. I walk over and swing it open, and all I see are glasses. Swiping them out, they all fall to the floor and smash. The tinkling of glass shattering continues long after I view a small slot in the back. You have to be looking for something to see it. Pushing the wood aside, I pull out a folder of paperwork. Turning back around, I sit down in front of him.
The first thing I see when I open the folder is a picture. You can barely make out the image, but I know it’s me and my brothers. I glare at him and see his face redden.
“I wasn’t going to use them,” he adds. “It’s the others I want.” He nods to the folder. “Keep going.”
I do as he says, rifling through. There’s evidence of the governor with what appears to be a teenager. Jesus! What a fuckhead. No wonder he doesn’t want this information to get out. She looks barely seventeen, whereas he’s easily in his sixties. Then I see Pops right next to him, a smile on his face, and another girl next to him the same age as the other.
“That’s not all. Those two girls? They’re dead.”
Hearing that someone is dead doesn’t bother me.
“He framed the detective’s son because the son was dating one of those girls,” he says. “You killed him, the detective… I’m guessing under Pops’s orders. He likes you all to clean up his messes without any of you knowing why.” I look at the detective’s picture and remember him—he was begging us after he fought hard to get away. Told us he had dirt on everyone. We don’t deal with that—we deal with money and death, and we are good at it.
And he is also right—it was on Pops’s order we killed him.
“Did you also know he is training again?” he adds, and that makes my head swing to him. Pops quit training killers after us because he told us that we were all he needed.
I guess that’s a lie.
“To kill you.” He smirks. “It’s all in there if you keep going.” I stand, lean forward, and kiss his forehead. I like to stomp my kills to death, but for him, I’ll be gentle. Reaching for the knife in my pocket, with a movement so fast he doesn’t see it coming, I swing it in his direction and straight across his neck. He bleeds quickly, his eyes wide, and I watch as the light leaves them. Then I get my shit and leave, evidence in hand.
I’ll send the pyros to torch the apartment in case there is any more evidence.
Twelve
Kalilah
Kyson didn’t come back that day or that night. But the following day, when I go down to the kitchen, I find him sitting at the table. He has a look of confusion and anger written all over his face, his brows tight as he studies something on the table.
Nancy has been crushing the pain-reliever tablets and giving them to me. I feel better. Still incredibly sore but able to walk now without being in so much pain.
“You get lost when you went out?” I ask him, pulling up the seat next to him.
He doesn’t even look at me as he mutters, “You should be in bed.”
Nancy places a plate in front of me that is stacked with pancakes with blueberries in them, and they smell amazing.
“I feel better and am taking it easy. And do I have permission to leave?”
He raises his eyes from the papers in front of him and locks them on me. “Why?”
