Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
PRESENT DAY
I spent the next week throwing myself into my work. I'd discovered the warehouse where the cartel was keeping our stolen ozone, and we were keeping an eye on it night and day. I'd also discovered the location of Benny, who was being tortured for information in a small but well protected house in the middle of their territory.
We would let the Fernandez's have him.
It was too late to rescue him, as they'd probably extracted the most vital details already, and his life wasn't worth starting a war for. They would kill him as soon as they were done with him, and that was good enough for us.
In the meantime, I was under attack.
Someone had cleared out my bank accounts and ruined my credit. All my credit cards were frozen. I had a few of my experts working furiously to trace the perpetrator, but if they couldn’t recover the money, I was fucked. I had cash in hidden accounts but was hesitant about using them in case I was being watched.
Fortunately, they hadn’t gotten to anything associated with the Kings but I was down to borrowing money from Coulter.
This person had also sold photos of me having sex with several people to the media. This person clearly had a score to settle with me, as they’d tracked down women I’d been with years ago, looking for every sex tape possible. The photos and videos were years old, but I was splayed out in the media like a man-whore.
It was something I didn’t usually care about, sex was something that should be celebrated, not shamed, but I was worried what Tatiana would think.
As, most importantly, she had disappeared from my bed, from my house, from my fucking life.
Out of everything happening to me, that was the worst.
I'd woken up to an empty house, furious that Phee hadn't seen her go. Both her and Rook weren't answering my texts, except to reassure me that she wasn't back to using. I was officially shut out.
I'd opened myself up to her and she'd shut me down.
Clearly, my mom knew my life better than myself, the memory of her voice unfurling into prophecy: You're rotten to the core, Knight. No woman will ever love you.
She was right, because not even she had ever loved me.
I'd been surrounded by them my whole life. Heir to the vast Cadwell estate and best friend to the King prince. My bank accounts were bigger than the GDP of some small countries. All this drew the attention of the women surrounding me.
They loved the expensive gifts, the social status, and the doors that opened when they were by my side.
And yet, I knew that each and every one of them would leave me in a second if another, better, offer came by. I knew it by their wandering eyes when we were out. That ever present look on their face--expectant, greedy, and always looking for something more .
Their look of adoration was fake, even if their orgasms weren't.
There had only been one women in my life who'd liked me for me, and I'd betrayed her in the worst way possible. And now, she was done with me.
I’d decided to give her what she wanted. Our standing meeting was tomorrow night. I would go there and say my goodbyes, then let her move on with her life.
"They're here." Coulter was suddenly by my side. We were at Prohibition, one of the King's most exclusive clubs, where we were meeting with someone from the Fernandez cartel. They’d gone through the channels to put out an official complaint about me.
Coulter placed a hand on my shoulder. "Look, I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but I have your back in there, okay?"
I nodded, grunting my thanks.
After a short squeeze on my shoulder, he turned, and I followed him to the elevator, where he used his special key card to take us up to the VIP section.
I entered the large, open floor, the sound of the dance music below still loud enough here that it vibrated through my body. We passed by a long row of a deep, royal blue seating filled with notable guests, including a popular singer, a talk show host, and a group of high powered Japanese business men. Hot girls were rushing around, taking drink orders in sexy, royal blue cocktail dresses and four-inch heels.
One of them winked at me as we passed by. A blonde with large tits and a tiny waist, holding a tray filled with empty glasses. At her look of interest, my eyes glazed over and I stared past her, focusing instead on the men waiting for us.
Four were sitting, legs apart, their elbows on the back of the sofa, a look of disgust on their faces. They looked like a cliché boy band, with matching black jeans, white or black tank tops, and buzzed hair cuts.
In the middle was the man clearly in charge. With dark eyes and long, black hair in two braids over his shoulders, feathers tied in the end, his gaze roamed over me the instant I came into his view, sizing me up. He wore a black leather vest, black jeans, and had a long scar across his shoulder that added to his menacing look. He was Ahanu, the man chosen to represent the cartel in these circumstances.
Coulter and I sat across from them. Their table was already cluttered with empty Corona bottles, squeezed lime slices, and white, sugary powder flaked across the table.
“How can I help you?” Coulter got right to business.
Ahanu studied him for a long moment, not speaking. Then, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on me. “Several nights ago, we discovered the dead body of Dario Walshman.”
"Who is that," Coulter asked, "and what does that have to do with us?"
"Dario applied to be one of our runners. He used to be a trucker along the southern route, and still had contacts there."
"And?" I asked, lighting up a joint.
"And, he's dead, that's what." Ahanu’s cold eyes bore into me. "And one of the neighbors pointed to you as the killer."
I didn't give him the satisfaction of answering, though Coulter did glance my way. He didn't know about my side projects.
"Knight's nothing special, there are a thousand men in the city who look like him." A grin snaked up my face at Coulter's diss.
"Except the neighbor specifically recognized him.”
"Is this all you have to go on?" Coulter leaned back in his chair, just as the waitress who’d been eyeing me earlier put down two glasses of whiskey. I picked one up, taking a sip but Coulter ignored his.
Ahanu jerked his head to the guy on his left—a man with a gold-toothed smile, gauze taped to his neck and a large belt buckle—pulled out his phone. He tapped on it a few times, then slid it across the cocaine riddled glass table, towards us.
Sure enough, there was a picture of me that night, squatting down, petting the yellow lab while he ate the steak I'd given him.
I smiled. "It's a good picture." I pushed the phone back. "But what does this have to do with you?"
"He was applying to work with one of us." The man with the large belt buckle took a sip of his beer, eyeing the blonde waitress’ ass as she walked away.
"And yet, he wasn't yet." I knew this for a fact, because Rochon always double, triple checked.
"Not yet," Ahanu answered, and the man with the belt buckle stared at us with a cold expression. The rest of the men were growing restless, and one of them kept eyeing the unopened baggie of pills on the table.
"And?" I tipped my head back, already done with this conversation. The loud music was giving me a headache. “You had no interest in Dario, and we both know it.”
Ahanu’s face darkened and I felt Coulter's shoe on mine, pressing down, warning me to chill out. Scowling, I bit my tongue, letting Coulter take the lead.
"You have a picture of someone who looks similar to Knight, next to a dog. This isn't proof that he killed the man, and even if it did, you have no claim on the man since he wasn't officially working for you."
"Why are we really here?" I leaned forward, putting my joint out in the ashtray. "Let's just call this what it is: a bullshit reason to meet with us. What do you really want?”
Ahanu studied me and it didn't escape my notice that the whole time, he'd paid particular attention to me , not Coulter.
He gave me a sharp grin, then turned to Coulter. "Knight has too much power. Right now, he can come and go into our territory without any repercussions. We want to renegotiate our contract with him."
"I practically own your territory," I scoffed, and once again, Coulter kicked my foot, making me grind my molars. I knew we were supposed to be playing nice until after Rose had her baby, but this was ridiculous.
"Just because you own certain properties in my territory doesn't mean you own the whole of it." Ahanu took a sip of his beer, tossing the empty bottle onto the glass table with a cling, his throat working before he lay down his cards. "I want you to sell us the properties located in our area. Then you'll have no reason to enter our territory."
I was seriously done with this motherfucker. Some of those properties were generational, in my family since before this dumb ass motherfucker was even born. How dare he demand this.
It was just a power play, and everyone at this table knew it.
Either that, or the person trying to destroy me was had access to the cartel, and this was another part of their plan. Maybe they took all my money in a bid to tempt me to sell my properties.
Regardless, I wanted to slit this motherfucker's throat open and watch his blood drain onto the grey concrete flooring. The only thing keeping me from leaping across this table to strangle him was Coulter by my side. I also had to keep Tatiana’s safety in mind. Even though we could never be together, starting a war against the cartel would put her in the direct line of danger.
So I forced down the itching in my fingers to kill this man and nodded. "I'll look into it."
I had no fucking plan on actually doing it, but I could pretend for a while.
Ahanu nodded, and I wanted to wipe the goddamn satisfied smirk off his face.
Asshole .
"All right, man," belt buckle sitting next to him said, his face splitting into a grin like they'd just won the fucking World Series. "Time to really party, eh? You going to bring us some more shots?"
Coulter stood, signaling to the waitress to bring another round of drinks.
I wanted to get the hell out of there but felt obligated to stay, otherwise the putas might feel dissed, so I downed the rest of my whiskey, then ordered another. I would stay just long enough to make them feel special, then make some excuse to leave. Coulter seemed to feel the same. He pulled out his phone and began tapping on it—most likely checking some secret video feed for one of his projects.
More drinks came and the pills came out. The music seemed to get louder and the four men loosened up, otherwise ignoring us, except for Ahanu, who only continued to brood at me.
I checked my watch, ready to make my excuse when suddenly, I saw something that changed everything. My phone beeped with a new text from Dante: Avery got source on heroin. Veracruz.
Hot, white heat rushed through my body.
This wasn’t about my property at all. Or even about the Kings.
This was a personal vendetta going all the way back to Cuba.
And this knowledge, combined with what had happened to Tatiana, changed everything.
Then, after a few moments, some girls showed up, and they began pairing off. One of the girls went directly to Ahanu, straddling his lap, pulling his attention from me. She had a tight, short white dress that rode up her ass, and she began to grind on him.
Belt buckle stood, being led by a girl wearing a tight purple dress and black stilettos out onto the dance floor. As they began dancing, she pulled her long, braided hair to the side, revealing a necklace.
The exact necklace I'd given to Tatiana for her birthday.