9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Marco
M y brain was in a blender as I climbed out of the car and strode toward the warehouse. Definitely not the right mindset to be in when coming face to face with arms dealers in preparation for trading a wad of money for a bag full of retooled firearms. Pops would have flipped his lid if he had known I insisted on driving, but I needed to keep some sort of control when my mind was full of such pandemonium.
It was a mistake bringing Henny and Jericho along, too. It had been a rough couple days as I battled the tendrils of darkness creeping into my mind. Recollections of him in my apartment were the only bright spot as I tried to reconcile everything Gian had told me while also dealing with my father’s stress and unrelenting insistence that I step up and handle these jobs. Needless to say, I was on shaky ground and the last thing I needed was my body's betrayal. I wasn't gay. I didn't seek out men on a regular basis for sex. I never even indulged in sexual fantasies about men. But one brief fisticuffs in the garage had certainly gotten my cock’s attention. I didn't need this shit.
“Jesus, wait up.” A hand seized around my bicep and the unexpected touch instantly triggered my fight response. I whirled around with my fist cocked back and only stopped myself at the last moment as Henny’s eyes widened in fear.
“Don’t touch me.” I shook my hands out with a shaky exhale. “Don't. I can't handle it.”
“I get it.” Despite my warning, he stepped closer and rested a palm over my pounding heart. “I get that it's a lot. Running head first into a potential death trap is not the way to process it, though.”
“Don't touch.” I grabbed his wrist and pushed it away. “Please, Bran?”
I kicked myself for how easily the plea and the diminutive of his name fell from my lips. I hated myself for how desperate I sounded. I loathed the look of pity on his face.
“Yeah. I got you.” He let his arm fall to his side and searched my face. It terrified me to think of what he’d find there.
Clearing his throat, Jericho approached and nodded toward the building. “Sorry to interrupt you two, but we have company.”
I cursed under my breath and turned back toward the target. This was exactly why it was a bad idea bringing him along. This was a distraction I didn't need. I resumed my striding gait and met the men halfway. Again numbered two to one, I kept my head high and my stance confident. It was all a show. I felt the farthest from confident.
“Ahh, welcome!” The tallest of the group stepped forward, his hand outstretched to shake. “I'd invite you for a drink, but we’re very busy. Did you bring the money?”
I used every ounce of resolve not to break the greasy haired, beetle-eyed fucker’s hand when he refused to let go. I nodded with a faint grunt as I indicated one of his associates nearby. “That them?”
“Indeed. Easy as pie, no funny business.” He let go and motioned the man forward. Henny, thankfully serious for once, stepped up at the same time.
My heart was in my throat as I reached slowly to my back pocket while announcing what I was doing. Everyone tensed until the envelope became visible. Once I held it out, the man in front of me snatched it from my grasp and immediately opened it for a visual inspection. He knew better than to count it in front of me, just like I knew better than to pinch a few bills from the bundle. For all the rumors about how degenerate organized crime members were, there were rules even we didn't break.
With a clipped nod to his partner, the envelope disappeared into a coat pocket and the bag swung into Henny’s grip. I could tell it was heavy as fuck by the way his frame briefly sagged with the unexpected burden. We nodded to one another and the men around us turned to disappear, mine included. With one last handshake, it was our turn to part. I didn't know this man from any stranger on the street, but I knew instinctually in that moment that neither of us were eager to turn our back first. By unspoken agreement and a code of honor that dated back more generations than I could count, we turned at the same time. I didn't look back. I'd bet a lot of money on the fact that he didn't either. Only once I was finally back in the driver’s seat did I chance a glance at the warehouse, just in time to see the door close.
We exhaled a collective sigh of relief as I put the car in reverse and eased out of the shipping yard. I clocked at least four different security cameras on the way. Knowing that we'd be doing a lot more exchanges here in the future, I made a mental note to do more recon. For every camera I spied, I expected there were at least two more I couldn't see.
“Arms dealers? Really?” Henny’s head appeared between the front seats. “I mean, I'm glad it's not heroin, but really?”
“Yeah. Talk to my dad. I had the same reaction.” I flexed my hands on the steering wheel and instantly regretted the brief candor. These guys didn't need to know about my personal issues. Especially not Henny.
“Lucrative. You're going to want to get this thing tuned up.” Jericho slapped the dash with his fingers. “Literally every arms dealer has a locker, reinforced panels, and a much bigger engine. The tint could use some work.”
I glanced toward the strange man beside me. With his fawn skin and straight black hair, I suspected some Asian heritage. That was literally all I knew about him besides his name, though. Hearing him ramble on about cars piqued my curiosity. Gian loved his mods and aftermarket gear. Maybe that's why they were friends.
“Is that something you can do?” I kept my eyes glued to the road in front of me.
“For a price,” Jericho quipped back.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” I scowled briefly at the man and turned my frown back to the windshield. “Gimme a ballpark.”
“Five Gs base, probably higher.” Spoken with the confidence of a man who knew his shit.
“Sold.”
I caught Henny’s glare from the rearview mirror. “Nice, wonderful. Please, your Highness, continue to do whatever the fuck you want with my car.”
“A car provided to you by my father?”
He grumbled under his breath and slouched in the backseat. It was too easy to be a prick with him. Defensiveness was the only weapon I had left in my arsenal. Even that one seemed flimsy.
Our next stop was a lot closer to home, but no less nerve wracking. The job was only considered complete once the goods were with our distributors. I hated dealing with that rough crowd of thugs and dealers. They dealt all sorts of shit for my father—drugs, papers, money, protections. Apparently, they would also be dealing in firearms now. I swung the SUV into an underground garage that promised cheap parking in midtown Manhattan but was miraculously always at capacity. The front was an effective one. As I pulled up to the gate guard with a nod, he pointed to the left and pressed a button to open the barricade.
The space was a lot dingier and darker than the garage under my building. Cars of every make and model filled the parking spaces. I had it on good authority that at least half of them weren't even operational. Those that were still functioning served as runners and convoys for deliveries. It was all for show. Smoke and mirrors was the name of the game in the underworld. The echoing rumble of the engine bounced off the low ceiling as we cruised deeper into the parking garage.
I eased around the last corner and stopped the car in front of a motley collection of card tables and plastic lawn chairs filled with people. The place was a fucking wreck. Garbage, empty beer bottles, and crates of God knows what turned the parking spaces into a makeshift holding area for stock with a recreational space in the middle. I laughed at the plethora of scales and baggies that were swept into waiting totes upon our arrival.
These were my father’s people, so my nerves were not nearly as amped as they had been. I was still wary, though. I always was. My anxiety ratcheted up even higher as the group meandered closer as soon as I climbed out of the SUV.
“Marco, I almost thought you chickened out.” The leader of the group, Pacio, reached out to shake my hand. His clammy mitt and sweat-streaked face instantly soured my gut. The hand on my shoulder as he clung to my hand set my nerves on edge.
“You know the deal. We’ll be back in a week for the money. Depending on how it goes, we’ll be bringing another shipment too.” I nodded toward Henny, who lugged the duffel bag from the backseat and hoisted it to the nearest table with a grunt. The ominous metallic clatter from within the bag grated like nails on a chalkboard all the way down my spine and back up again.
“Sounds good, baby boss.” Pacio clapped my shoulder again before releasing my hand. “Here’s something I'll give you for free—watch your back out there, kids.”
My head tilted just a bit as I eyed the man’s back. He was too busy rifling through the firearms to notice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
With a glance over his shoulder, Pacio smirked. “Moretti’s guys are talking shit. Seems our little alliance buddies aren't too excited about all the changes on the horizon. Watch your backs. It's going to be popping out there.”
He laughed, brassy and big and loud, as he waggled a gun from the bag at me. I took an instinctive step back. My instincts also drove me to shove Henny behind my body. Pacio guffawed in delight, the rest of the thugs and goons joining in until the underground garage echoed with their hyena cackling.
“Noted. If that’s all, we’ll be on our way.” I gave Henny another push toward the car. “See you next week.”
“Ciao, baby boss!” The laughter continued, each abrasive sound clawing at my ears and constricting my chest. Even after I was behind the wheel with the doors locked, the grating sound echoed in my head.
I only took a full breath once we were back on the street level. A quick glance at the rearview revealed Henny’s unwavering stare. Jericho, busy on his phone, muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” I prompted, waiting at the mouth of the garage until traffic cleared enough for me to pull out.
“Something came up,” he mumbled, turning in his seat to address Henny. “Are you cool with postponing our plans?”
“Lemme guess, you got the call?”
He nodded in response, a smile playing over his features. “Big pool tonight. I could really use the money.”
“It's cool, man.”
“Care to share with the class?” I glanced between them with a sneer.
“I've got a… thing.” Jericho squirmed in his seat, the leather of his jacket squeaking against the leather of the seats.
“A street race. He's big on the scene.” Henny leaned forward with his elbows on the front seats. “Mind taking us back to the apartment? I'm assuming you're repossessing my car indefinitely.”
He was so close. Too close. The cloying, distracting scent of his cologne tickled my nose and caused a traitorous warmth to settle low in my gut.
“Address?” My voice squeezed from my throat, gruff and crackling.
Henny spit out the location and pointed to the right. I leaned over the steering wheel to put some much-needed space between us as I eased into traffic. It wasn't far to where they needed to go, but the congestion on the streets made the trip take twice as long. The side street was narrower, quieter, and not at all like the streets I typically haunted around my building. Sure, it was still Manhattan, but even this borough had areas that showed the vast distance between economic standings.
I'd barely stopped the car in front of a crumbling brick building before Jericho was jumping from the passenger seat. Without even a parting glance, he jogged across the street, climbed into a sporty little Nissan, and took off into the night. Even without a wealth of car knowledge, I could tell the engine was not the same one you’d find in any other car of a similar make and model.
“Okay then,” I grumbled. Henny chuckled softly, his voice too close to my ear.
“We should talk, eh?”
My eyes darted to the mirror and met his penetrative gaze. The last thing I wanted to do was talk. Despite my reticence, my mouth took on a mind of its own.
“Yeah,” I rasped. “Sure.”
“Park the car, Marc. We’ll head upstairs. I promise, I won't bite.”
I muttered vague swear words and threats under my breath before stealing the spot on the street that was once taken by Jericho's car. My limbs were lead. I remained buckled into the driver’s seat, even after killing the engine. Even as Henny climbed out of the backseat and headed toward the apartment's entrance. He flailed his hands in a “what the fuck” gesture before beckoning me to follow. Three deep breaths later, I exited the car.
Henny jogged up the stairs to the fifth floor walkup with the familiarity of someone who’d lived here for a long time. He waved for the keys in my hand and paused once he had the locks disengaged.
“Don't let the dog fool you. He's a sweetheart. It’s Lucy you need to keep an eye on.” He pressed a palm to the door and shoved it open. The second it slipped from the frame, vicious barking and the clatter of claws erupted from the other side.
“Shut up, mutt.” Henny darted into the darkened apartment and wrestled with seventy pounds of black and brown fur. I reluctantly slipped through the door and shut it behind me. The dog snarled like he was out for blood, my blood, until Henny bellowed a single command.
The dog’s ass hit the ground so fast, I boggled. All the barking ceased immediately, replaced by a pathetic whining sound that was almost comical for how dramatic it was. With a flick of the light switch, the room came into view. There was a television attached to the only solid wall in the space big enough to accommodate its massive size. A lumpy brown couch that looked older than I was sat opposite. Evidently, the apartment didn't have a full kitchen since a makeshift one had been erected in the corner. A hot plate, toaster oven, mini fridge, and microwave were stacked one on top of the other. A bookshelf beside the tower of appliances was cluttered with dry goods and a mishmash of different dishes and cups.
The harsh overhead lighting bounced off stacks of clutter. Car parts, books, boxes, and baskets were tucked into every square inch of real estate. My curiosity got the best of me as I peeked through the closest door—a bathroom half the side of my closet and filled to the brim with toiletries and towels and even more stacked milk crates was barely visible in the light that bled into the space.
“Yeah, it ain't much, but it's home.” Henny stepped forward and bent low to yank the fridge open. “Hungry? I got… breakfast burritos, leftover Chinese. Chips. Beer and soda, too.”
“Um… water is fine.” I stood awkwardly in the center of the claustrophobic room with my arms crossed over my chest. The dog, still sitting exactly where he'd landed, continued to whine like a puppy.
“Suit yourself,” Henny grumbled. My reflexes responded just in time to catch the bottle of water he tossed over his shoulder.
A flash of orange, black, and white zipped through my peripheral vision, and before I could determine what was happening, sharp claws dug through my trousers and sank into my calf. I cried out, more startled than pained, and tried to shake the monster sized cat from its hold on my leg.
“What the fuck?” I backpedaled and tried in vain to escape. The creature shook its head and tail in a strange, possessed fashion. The thing had crazy eyes and a strong as fuck grip.
“Oy! Lucy! That's enough.” Henny rushed forward and bent down to grab the cat’s scruff. “Stop, you nut job.”
Baffled, I watched as Henny plopped the cat in his arm and cradled it like a baby. He crooned and mollycoddled the beast with a bunch of baby talk as it gnawed on his hand and made all manner of growling, wailing cries.
“Marc, meet Lucy. Short for Lucifer. Hims my widdle baby.” Henny, apparently lacking all sense of self-preservation, cuddled the cat closer to smooch its head. Naturally, the cat reared back and bit the end of his nose.
“Baby? He’s a demon.”
“Yes, and I love him.” Henny tried to snuggle the animal again, but it launched from his arms and disappeared into the shadows with a yowl. “Bitch. Anyway… sit. We’ll talk.”
I eyed the couch and sighed. I had a strong feeling I would regret every single second of this decision, but I did it anyway. Fuck my life.