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I don’t want to lie or make promises I can’t keep, and I can see how much she loves her big brother. “I’m not sure I know what love is. What I do know is that when he’s not with me, I feel like part of me is missing. Trusting is hard for me, but Hammer makes it easier. Is this love? I’m not sure, but I’d rather be with him than anywhere else in the world.”
Izzy throws her arms around me, and I reciprocate. “You love him. You just can’t say it yet,” she whispers. I close my eyes, letting her warmth fill me up. She’s sunshine and happiness in one little package, and it’s infectious. You can’t help but feel good around Izzy.
Do I love David “Hammer” Alexander Malcolm? My illusion of love comes from fairy tales. I was the Deleigh princess, and I was going to meet a prince from the same social circles. Our eyes would meet across a crowded ballroom, and it would be insta-love. He’d sweep me off my feet, and we would live happily ever after in a mansion, with two or three kids running around on Christmas morning with a mountain of presents to spoil them. That was my idea of the perfect family.
How quickly that fades when you’re the scandal of the elite circles you thought you belonged to. Instead, I have a man who lulls me back to sleep on bad nights when I can’t stop my mind from reeling. He cooks in my kitchen with me, being careful to read Grandma Nora’s instructions to the letter, along with the anecdotes in the margins. And he gives me the most awesome orgasms I’ve ever experienced. Although, before him, the only ones I experienced were with my own toys.
Hammer has given me himself, and his Pride family, unconditionally.
TWELVE
Part One of the Plan
HAMMER
With Francesca safely back at home, I’m working the next skip with Roscoe beside me in the truck. The guy we’re after was spotted at his girlfriend’s house in the early morning hours. He may be gone by the time we get there, but it’s a place to start. Based on past experience, men like this tend to go back to the place where they feel loved.
I kinda feel sorry for the kid. He’s had a rough start in life and has been bounced around from foster home to foster home all his life. That’s no excuse for dealing drugs to a bunch of kids, though. What started off as petty theft is escalating fast.
Personally, I think he’d benefit from a prison work program. I’d put him in a place where he can see what the shit he’s been pushing does long term. Maybe that’ll scare him straight.
“Hate to say it, man, but this guy’s crossed the line. He moved on to survival and all he’s thinking about is not getting caught and how he’s going to make the next big score so he can get out of town,” Roscoe says. He’s probably right. Nah, he is right. I know it, I just hate that he is.
“Yeah.” I sigh.
“Wildcard and Priest are already digging into his suppliers. They’re going to be local low-dealing thugs. We want to catch him alone.”
“Agreed.” I turn onto the street where his girlfriend’s apartment is and slow down, taking in the surroundings. “Not a lot going on.” I look around and park across the street facing the apartment building.
Roscoe looks at his notes. “Third floor, corner unit.” He points to the window on the far left. “That should be it.”
“Let’s sit tight. She’s supposed to be at work. Get Wildcard to check. It’s best if she’s not there,” I tell him.
“Right,” Roscoe replies and makes the call. “Yo, yeah, we’re here. Can you check to see if Elaine is at work?” He pauses. “We don’t want to make a scene in front of her if we can avoid it,” he explains. He jerks his chin to me. “He’s making the call.” A few seconds later, Wildcard confirms her shift starts in half an hour, and right on cue, Elaine comes out through the doors in her uniform and walks down the street to the bus stop.
“Let’s do this,” I say. We both get out of the car and head for our skip.
Not ten minutes later, Jack Garfield is sitting in the back of the truck in cuffs with Roscoe beside him and we’re driving home. He didn’t even try to flee. He sat dejected at the kitchen table and wrote a note to his girlfriend, telling her to move on because he won’t be back.
Jack’s been nattering nonstop in the back seat, talking about how much he loved his girl and wanted to give her a better life. “I fucked us up. Best thing I can do is let her go,” he says.
“Five to seven years is a long time to ask someone to wait for you,” I say. “She’d wait if she had something to wait for. Did you ever ask her what she wanted?”
“Why are you engaging in this?” Roscoe asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my marbles.
“Don’t all women want the good life?” Jack sneers. “I didn’t have a daddy to pay for my education. What I have is what I learned on the streets.” He’s trying to justify his actions, and I won’t tolerate it.
“Plenty of people go to school on their own. But that’s not your problem. Your problem is that you want it fast and easy. There’s a price to pay when you’re caught feeding kids the drugs you’ve been pushing. You have no idea what’s in the shit you’re selling. Thousands of kids are dying every day due to the fentanyl-laced drugs they’re ingesting. What sucks is that they have access to illegal drugs at all, but a grown-ass man who’s capable of so much more and is making dirty money off those kids is just pathetic,” I tell him.
“What? So, you’re going to be my conscience?” Jack bites back.
“Hell, no. I got better things to do with my life. I figured you would too. Wouldn’t you rather be sitting with your woman tonight than in a stinking prison cell with a man named Tommy Two-Dick?” I pause. “It isn’t too late if you want more. You gotta wake the fuck up, serve your time, and come out with a plan.”
“Ain’t no one going to be waiting for me when I get out,” he mumbles.
Roscoe says, “You serve your time. I’ll come see you once a month. Stay out of trouble. When you’re free, we’ll talk. But I swear to you, man, you fuck up in there, I won’t be back.”
A couple of hours later, we deliver Jack to the authorities, and we head back to the compound. “Do you think he’ll make it?” I ask.
