Chapter Twenty-Six
Dominic
At two a.m., Emmy woke me up with a kiss, and I turned to him.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I reassured him.
“I know,” he whispered and kissed me again. “It has to be.”
We made love, hard and desperate, clinging to each other.
“I love you,” Emmy whispered. “I’ll love you forever.”
His words chilled me, as if he didn’t believe I was coming back, so I made light of it. “Don’t be so dramatic, Emmy. I’ll see you when I get home.”
He held me tight. “Be careful. Please watch yourself.”
“I love you too.”
At three thirty, the Suburban stopped in front of my house, and I walked down the steps. Big Dude in black and the other two were there as usual, along with someone new. A cold-eyed man with salt-and-pepper hair and an automatic rifle hanging carelessly from his shoulder.
“You’re Starr’s son?” he demanded.
“Yeah.” I folded my arms, pretending nonchalance while inside I quaked with fear.
“We got double the product today. Your father and Escobar will be meeting us in East New York.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t answer questions from punks.”
I seethed, but from the look on his face, I doubted he’d hesitate to use that weapon on me.
We changed for another unmarked truck at a rest stop but hit major traffic near the city, so it was almost two hours before we entered the meeting spot. The iron gates clanged shut behind me. I jumped out of the truck and pushed my sunglasses up on my head.
“Give him your phone and those glasses,” my father said, motioning to his security. “It’s not sunny, and you don’t need them, do you?”
I did as he requested, keeping my face neutral as the man ground the lenses under his boot. They kept my phone. I still had the camera lenses in the magnetic earrings and in the flat disc of the necklace I wore.
“You got all the goods?” my father asked the cold-eyed man, who nodded.
“Take a look for yourself.”
My father motioned to his guys, and they climbed in the truck and began pulling out the boxes. My eyes widened when crates I hadn’t noticed were pulled out and pried open.
Guns. AK-47s. AR-15s. Tons of ammo.
Shit.
“Whoa, I didn’t sign up for this,” I blurted out.
“No one cares what you think you got yourself into. You belong to me now.”
I winced but kept my mouth shut and watched as they went through each box, checking everything.
I anticipated it would take at least two hours, and I leaned against a pillar, watching them all.
I scanned the room and did a double take.
Two detectives were loitering in the corner—Brian Hoffman and Ryan Gallagher.
I knew them. They caught me looking at them, frowned and split up, but stayed far away from me.
Were they undercover or working for my father? I hated that I now suspected people I’d known to be good and decent. Seeing what I’d had for the past few weeks made me question everything and everyone.
“You’re coming with me,” my father stated.
I didn’t like the crafty smile, but I remained calm.
“Okay.” I followed him to his Denali, which had tinted windows I was certain were bulletproof.
I climbed into the back seat, flanked on one side by his personal bodyguard, who’d enjoyed beating the shit out of me the last time, and on the other by Cold Eyes from the truck, the machine gun still at his side. My father sat in front.
“What about my money?” I asked, figuring that would be a normal question to ask.
Cold Eyes pointed his gun at my head. “When we say so.”
We drove to a tenement in Brownsville, and my father said, “Lots of college kids come for their fix that Mommy and Daddy don’t even know they’re paying for.”
We got out, and with the muzzle of the bodyguard’s gun in the small of my back, we walked inside.
Music blared, and in the dim light I could see long tables where people bagged pills of all kinds.
My stomach turned. I’d been to plenty of drop-offs over the past few weeks, but this was the first time I was seeing the next step.
“We’ve got three floors working. One for pills, one for heroin, one for cocaine.
There’s a meth lab in a safe room. We get a million a month from this place, and there are plenty more houses throughout the city.
If you’re going to be involved with the operation, you need to know what it is from top to bottom.
You can’t just be the delivery boy and expect to collect the big money. ”
I nodded. “Understood.”
I noticed several men standing around, not working with the drugs but obviously there as security. I wondered if they were cops as well.
My father continued. “Anyone wants to set up a big business, they know they need me to be able to do it. I’ve been doing this a long time.”
“Even when you and Mom were married? You said you loved her, yet what you did put her in danger. Didn’t you care?”
His blue eyes glittered. “Don’t you dare lecture me.
I never would’ve let anything hurt your mother.
Ever. But she betrayed me, and so did you.
All this could’ve been yours for the taking if you’d just helped me.
You could’ve stayed in the department and had a golden ticket working by my side.
Instead you thought you were smarter than me.
You turned people against me, starting with your mother. ”
My heart slammed, and I began to be very afraid. He was a paranoid sociopath and would have no regrets killing me if he thought I was against him. Time for my acting skills.
“I—you’re right. I shouldn’t have gone to IAB, but I didn’t know the extent of what you’d built here. It’s…incredible what you’ve got set up. No one would ever guess. It’s brilliant.” The words tasted like ash on my tongue.
“I know. All these low-life punks getting rich and living a good life while I busted my ass trying to shut it down. I finally realized if I couldn’t beat them, I was not only gonna join them, I was gonna own them.”
“Smart.”
“You think you’re man enough to handle it one day?”
“One day, yeah. After I learn what to do from you.”
God, I wanted to throw up.
“First you gotta pass the test.”
I blinked. “I thought these weeks of runs were the test.”
“Baby steps. You’re still on probation until you prove yourself.
Just because you’re my son doesn’t mean I trust you.
After all, you turned my wife against me.
” He tipped his head to his bodyguard. “We’re leaving.
Make sure you pick up the package.” The man nodded, and we walked outside to the Denali.
Again, we started driving. The bodyguard had a paper bag in his hand.
My father checked his phone and addressed Cold Eyes when we pulled up to the last run-down building.
“Last stop for you.”
“What? Why?” Cold Eyes seemed uncomfortable. “I should be with you in case something goes wrong.”
“And I want you here,” my father snapped. “So shut your fucking mouth and listen to me. Stay here and make sure we get the money from the 118th Street group. It’s supposed to be seven hundred and fifty K.”
“Duarte can pick it up. It’s dangerous for you to be out with only Morris here to watch you.”
“Are you running this operation or me? I say you stay, so you fucking stay. Got it?”
Cold Eyes opened his mouth, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” His brown eyes flickered to me, but he turned away.
We left Cold Eyes, and for the first time, my father sat beside me instead of in the front seat with the driver, with Morris on my other side.
“Where are we going?” A fresh wave of fear rolled through me. Something didn’t feel right. “Shouldn’t I be getting home?” Sweat poured down my back. We were driving into the city, which was a deviation from all the other runs. After a drop, we normally turned around to return upstate.
A gun was shoved into my side. “Shut up with the questions. We have a present for you. Morris, give him the bag.”
He put it in my lap.
“What is it?”
My father laughed. “Open it.” I looked inside and saw a baggie with pills and one with some powder. “Time to celebrate. Another thing about running the operation—you need to know your product. There’s fent, molly, and crank. Your choice.”
“You think I’m gonna take this crap? No way.”
The gun stabbed me in the ribs. “I don’t think. I know. Every step you’ve taken and every word you’ve said since you called me has been recorded. If you don’t do as I say….” He cocked his gun. “It won’t end well for you.”
“I’m not gonna do it.”
“Morris,” my father ordered, and before I knew it, Morris yanked my hands together behind me, handcuffing my wrists tight. He pinched my nose shut, forcing me to open my mouth and breathe.
“Always making it tough for everyone.” My father took several pills and stuck them into my mouth.
I spit them out. “Fuck you,” I snarled.
“Still making trouble.” My father sighed. “Morris?”
Morris punched me in the side of the head until spots danced in front of my eyes.
My father thrust more pills into my mouth—I didn’t know how many or which ones—and poured water down my throat until I couldn’t help but swallow some.
Next, he took a little of the powder and flicked it up my nose. I sneezed and sneezed.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I cried out.
“Because you disobeyed me from when you were a teenager. You encouraged your mother to leave me.”
“You did all this because Mom left you? That’s sick. You’re sick. I’m glad she got away from you.”
“I’m your father,” he hissed, his face less than an inch from mine. “You are my blood. You owed me your loyalty, and you failed. Now you pay the price.”
A curious lightheadedness flowed through me. I felt hot and cold and began to laugh. I knew I was high, but I was powerless to move.
We traveled on a highway, but I was flying in my mind and had no idea what was happening. More powder went up my nose, and something warm dripped from my nostrils.
“That’s enough. Stop here.”