Chapter 19
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
LYDIA
Berlin and I walk outside of The Veil, his arm slung around me in a casual display of friendliness.
He is the only person on earth aside from Lele that I’d let touch me like this. He’s the only person on earth I’d let run a place I own so I can stay away from this side of town and honor my uncle’s wishes.
The Veil is mine, but Berlin minds it.
It’s raining, a gentle drizzle, and as we head toward the side of the club to stand beneath the awning, I glance at him.
His deep brown eyes are scanning the parking lot. The man is always on alert, and when he’s like this—working—I consider what it might be like to marry him. It would help both of us, I know that, but at what cost?
He’s taller than me, tight muscles and covered in tattoos. Curly brown hair, olive skin, fucking gorgeous.
But he’s a man whore and I don’t want to become a jealous, murderous wife.
I know what these men are like.
I was raised by one.
“What is it?” I ask him as I keep my eyes on his, but he’s still ensuring we’re alone even with our spines to the side of the building.
He finally looks down at me and pulls me closer.
I turn my body, one palm pressed to his hard chest.
“What did you do last night, Lydia?”
I smile at him. “What are you, a fucking narc?”
He doesn’t smile back. “You’re getting too much blood on your hands.”
That isn’t true, but he doesn’t need to know anything about this. “Tell me what you wanted to say.” I curl my hand into the fabric of his shirt. “You said it was about Lele which is the only reason I’m out here talking to you.”
“The only reason, huh?”
I roll my eyes but breathe him in despite myself. He smells like cigars and expensive cologne and it might not sound like it, but it’s a heady combination.
He rests a hand on my hip.
Part of me wants to melt.
Let him fuck me against this wall.
But that’s my libido talking.
I narrow my eyes and he grins, his handsome face more open for it. But in a heartbeat, the smile is gone, and he says, “Your uncle went to Astor.”
The hospital.
My pulse thrums fast in my chest. Lynx didn’t tell me he stopped by.
It seems as if Lynx isn’t telling me a lot of things. He’s been dead silent. If he died, I wouldn’t know the difference.
But the guards around Lele’s bed are mine.
“When?” I ask Berlin, my mouth gone dry.
His fingers curl against my hip, right there at the waistband on my trousers. It’s not sexual. It’s like he’s keeping me grounded.
What I didn’t ask was, how do you know?
And we both know that.
“Last night.”
I think of Fox asking when the last time I spoke to Lynx was. Of the damaged windshield. The strangeness.
“I saw him this morning,” I tell Berlin about my brother, as if to reassure myself he’s okay. Because he has to be okay. There’s no other option.
Berlin says nothing.
It feels a little like I can’t breathe, but I am composed enough at all times to look him in the eye and say, “Stop wasting my fucking time. What is it you really want to say?”
Berlin swallows. His neck rolls and he glances over my head.
This man doesn’t get nervous, but right now, that’s all I see.
“Don’t trust him, Lydia. I know he raised you. I know he gave you what you have.” He stares at me in the dark. “Don’t trust him.”
“You have to tell me something more than that.” Even as I say the words, Eve’s warnings ring in my head, but I want to know what Lynx did at the hospital to make Berlin, of all people, so unsettled.
He bows his head and brushes his mouth over my hair.
I jerk back but he doesn’t let me go. “Don’t kiss me again,” I snarl at him, my chest heaving.
His fingers press into my hip bone. “Your uncle,” he speaks slowly, carefully, and he doesn’t let me go. “Brought a man with him.”
I tense.
Hold my breath.
“A man you’re not allowed to touch.”
Storm.
But Berlin keeps talking. “Hawthorn Leary once flooded a toilet by trying to flush a man’s head down it.” He lets me go all at once, his lips pressed together as he watches me take everything in. “Why would he need to see your brother?”
“Tennessee owns the marina; he’ll be there himself.”
“Tennessee, huh?” I force lightness into my tone in the darkness of my car and glance at the hilt of the knife strapped to my thigh.
It’ll be hidden beneath my black latex trench coat when I get to the marina.
I’m meeting a man I don’t know tonight at Cathedral Bay, right by Coven Lake, and The Veil has disappeared from my rear view.
Berlin made me promise not to do anything rash.
I lie as easily as I breathe; but for right now, the promise is kept.
I force myself not to think about what Berlin told me or I won’t go to this meeting and I’ll fuck my entire business.
After this, I’ll speak to my uncle. Because after this, I’ll fucking hunt him down.
If what Berlin said is true—and I’ll easily be able to verify it—Lynx might be passing down the throne sooner than he thinks.
Tonight, the show must go on, Storm Leary will live another day, and the fate of his and his little girlfriend’s life hangs in the balance of my brother’s vital signs over the next twenty-four hours.
Most people don’t ever wake up if they don’t within a couple of weeks.
The window is closing in.
“What’s his real name?” My false nicety is gone as I speak to Rachelle through the speakerphone.
She’s quiet for a moment.
Rachelle Vyern handles operations in the piedmont region, Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill.
We’re equals, technically speaking. But in reality, Rachelle’s grandmother could have my throat slit within the hour if she wanted.
Risley Vyern holds the record for the most kilos of cocaine dealt over a lifetime in the entire southeast.
So if Rachelle doesn’t want to tell me Tennessee’s real name, I’m sure as hell not going to press her. If she was anyone else, yeah, but I pick my battles.
“Ten, actually,” Rachelle answers. “Doesn’t sound as odd though, does it?”
Despite myself, the smile returns as I take the winding roads to Coven Lake and the Bay. “Guess not.”
“He’ll talk your ear off but he’ll have good tips on suppliers for you.
The move from Garner to Asheville means he’s had to make connections to keep his operation running so he’s already got a base, just outside of your territory.
He won’t disrespect your jurisdiction. Give him some info on the undercovers and the boys and he’ll be a good asset. ”
I nod, unseen by Rachelle. “They seem to be leaving us alone for the most part lately. Haven’t heard much from my runners either but I’ll tell him what I know.”
“Nana wants to sit down with you soon.” Rachelle sighs as I try not to feel nerves light up through my bloodstream. “Something about hauling up to DC.”
“I don’t deal where spies and politicians play. They’ll turn on you in a heartbeat. Risley knows that.”
“But Risley wants to hop down to Mexico and retire so Risley said fuck the risks, the money is worth it.” Rachelle sounds like she thinks her grandma is crazy, the way she keeps punctuating her name, and I agree but I’m not arguing about it over the phone.
“She knows how to get in touch. Thanks for hooking this up.”
“Have fun.”
I end the call and glance in my rear view but there’s nothing save for dark roads and boulders along the mountainside.
A quick check of the clock and it’s just about midnight when my blue headlights illuminate Cathedral Bay’s gray and white sign, the obscure entrance right behind it.
I don’t turn on my signal as I pull onto the dirt road, trees arching over my car like gnarled fingers.
The moon is a sliver in the sky but with the forest around me, I can’t see a thing out here.
I crack my window just in case there’s anything I need to hear as I drive slow down the road. It’s a winding path and the further down it I get, the more the scent of the lake fills my lungs.
Before long, the black building that houses a small office and a larger area for mechanics to work on the boats looms into view.
There’s one vehicle that isn’t a ship, a nondescript white car.
Boring, and perfect not to rouse attention.
“Ten” probably makes what I do in a year, and it’s enough money to buy all this land with cash plus some, but it’s good not to look flashy most of the time.
Flashy is cocky is caught.
I pull up beside him in the dirt lot by the marina and glance out at the docks. A few ships bob in the water, more are wrapped in black plastic for the end of season, and the water is still and inky dark in the glow of my headlights.
I turn my head and look through the passenger window. Despite the fact the white car’s not tinted, I don’t see Tennessee inside.
That makes me feel uneasy. I’m not poking around this place looking for him. I don’t even know if I want any information he might have; I agreed to meet with him because I respect Rachelle. Otherwise, he’s not got anything I need.
I glance at the gun lying on my console and hear the water lapping at the boats out on Coven Lake, a few crickets out in October chirping away.
But when there’s a quick thud on my door, I don’t hear anyone sneak up on me and the gun is in my hand and pointed right at Tennessee as he backs away with his hands up, just enough room with the window down for me to fire a bullet in his chest.
My pulse thuds between my ears and I don’t take my finger off the trigger. Storm might’ve gotten one of my guns in the woods but I have plenty more and if I need to empty this one in Ten’s lanky form, I will.
I reach for the door handle and open up my car but I don’t lower my weapon when I step out.
Ten has a deep tan, wrinkles covering almost every inch of his skin I can see, body covered by a white, long sleeve button down and white pants that remind me of coastal vacations.
He’s in loafers although I can’t discern the color in the dark.
Salt and pepper hair, and as I blink in the night, I note the sideways smile on his face.
I’ll blow his head off if the first word out of his mouth isn’t “sorry.”
I nudge my driver’s door shut with my hip and aim at his chest with both hands around the Glock.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he says easily, his southern accent thick.
“I thought you’d hear me come up on you.
” His words almost sound like a scolding and I’m tempted to fill his heart with holes for the audacity but slowly, I lower the gun and just look at him, the trench coat covering most of my body but it doesn’t stop him from leering.
“You’re Lynx’s niece,” he says quietly with something like twisted reverence. “If I play my cards right, you think you could put me in touch with that son of a bitch?”
I lift my chin and smile. “No. Now, what do you have for me?”
He laughs, a rusty sound, then drops his hands but wisely doesn’t put them in his pockets. He glances over his shoulder at the lake a hundred yards from us. “I see the relation,” he says as he looks at me again. “How often you hear from your supplier?”
“Often enough.”
“How much you making after their cut?”
I narrow my eyes. “Profit margin? Why don’t you tell me what I could be making before I tell you anything or else this is going to be a waste of my time and people around here don’t like to waste time.”
“You’re something else, aren’t you?”
I hear a rustle in the woods at my back, just past where I pulled off from into the clearing of the marina. But between taking my eyes off Ten, whom I don’t like, and risking him pulling something over on me, I know what I’m doing.
Besides, his own eyes shift, then come right back with no change of expression.
Probably an animal.
I don’t say anything.
He chews on his bottom lip and I think he won’t either.
Then he sighs and says, “What color are your bricks?”
I almost laugh out loud. “Try again.”
“All right.” He stares right at me. “How many users dropping off like flies? How many ODs in this county? How long before it gets traced back to you? Anyone you know slipped into a coma?”
It takes everything in me not to react. But I don’t even grind my teeth. I just smile at him because either he did some digging or he’s spit balling. Either way, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of confirming anything.
“No one’s dying from my coke except from starvation and last I checked, that’s not a supply problem. Just the opposite. So if you wanna talk money, tell me the numbers. Otherwise, we’re done here.”
“Lydia Flynn, living up to your last name, girl, I’ll tell you what.” He shakes his head but he’s not smiling anymore. Instead, he takes a half step toward me and says under his breath, “Watch your back. Your family’s enemies are already becoming yours.”
My muscles tense.
For one dizzying moment, I feel as if I’m caught in some kind of trap. I half-expect someone to pop out at me from the woods behind me but I don’t dare let my apprehension show and I don’t look away from Tennessee. He wants me to blink, he wants me to pry, but I won’t do any of that.
Maybe I’ll call Rachelle back and see if she knows of a connection between my family and his.
Does he mean the Learys?
For one second, I’m back underneath Storm when he saved me from sprinting off that cliff.
He has no idea why I’m after him, does he?
But he’s about to fucking find out.
Either way, I don’t bother giving Ten the satisfaction of asking a single question.
I just watch him walk to his car, open the door, give me a two finger salute, then duck in, reverse out, and leave the marina.
I stare after him in the night until I can’t hear his weak engine anymore. Then I exhale and turn to my own car. It’s too dark to be hanging around out here.
Tonight I need to get home to Fox and have him figure out where the fuck Lynx is, then I’ve got to speak to my men at Astor Memorial.
I reach for the door handle. Open the Q up, duck down and place my gun in the console.
And just as I’m about to climb in, a hand comes to the back of my neck and shoves me down, laid out across both seats as a voice in my ear whispers, “Let’s talk profit margins from a dead girlfriend who knows too much, huh? ”