21. Tim
21
TIM
LOYALTY
“ L ast chance to come get your boy.”
I glance up from the beer I’m mid-pour and stop on a pair of angry, black eyes and the thick jacket covering most of his bulk from the half dozen cops he walks among. I don’t know the guy standing in front of me. Never seen his face before in my life. And yet, I know exactly who he represents.
“Mr. Booth is experiencing a particularly stressful day today,” he grumbles. “And he’s collecting debts, whether they’re due or not. We’re done listening to Duane Emeri’s bullshit excuses.”
“Duane has no debt.” I reach across, viper-fast, and grab the dude’s wrist before he can pull back. “I’ve paid them. Which means you’re a stupid man for stepping onto my property and slinging threats. Did no one warn you what would happen if you did that?”
“You paid last week’s debt.” He snaps his hand away and smooths his jacket down. Lest the cops catch the long-barreled weapon strapped to his ribs. “That stupid ass kid spent all of yesterday inside clubs he wasn’t supposed to be in.”
For fuck’s sake. Anger roars in my blood and singes the hairs along my arms. “I told your guys to stop letting him in. Whatever debt he racks up because of your negligence becomes your loss.”
“I think you misunderstand the purpose of running certain establishments. We welcome the dumbasses in, Malone, and then we collect from wherever, whoever we need. Consider this a professional courtesy—Mr. Booth does not wish to be at odds with you. In fact, he has expressed a certain…” He considers his words carefully. “Desire, to be friendly. Should you wish to sit down and talk business, he’s ready and willing to host that meeting.”
“No thanks.”
He tsks, shaking his head from side to side. “The offer remains open. But in the meantime, we will collect what Emeri owes. It’s the nature of business. Surely you understand.”
“I understand Booth knows not to become my enemy.” I lean on the bar and stare into his eyes. “I also understand Booth is smart enough to stay on my family’s good side. If he wants to remain off my hit list, he’ll walk away from Duane Emeri, and he’ll make fuckin’ sure to not let him step inside a gambling hall ever again.”
“You ask too much.” Grinning, he grabs the lapels of his jacket and snaps the fabric into place, the collar flipping up and shielding the back of his neck. “I’ll pass your message on to the boss, though.”
The fuckin’ boss.
They’re children, dressed up as gangsters.
“Keep Booth away from me and mine. I won’t say it twice.”
“Mmhm.” He turns on his heels and whistles his way to the door.
“You okay, Boss?” Daisy walks behind me and drops a glass beneath the beer tap I stand over. Because we have customers, and I’m not serving them. “Looked kinda serious.”
“Did you see his face?”
She frowns, her brows pulling in tight and her bow lips flattening into a line. “Yeah. I saw him.”
“Remember it. If you see him again, inside or out of this bar, stay vigilant. He’s looking to piss me off, and I doubt that’s the last I’ll see of him.” I yank the hand towel off my shoulder and drop it on the bar, then I spin on my heels and pull the phone from my pocket. “I gotta head out.”
“No problem.” She’s good at her job. Fast and personable, so the customers like her and continue to come back. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
“Thanks.” I stalk toward the doorway leading up to my apartment and start up the stairs, dialing Felix’s number as I go.
“Hey.” He answers on the fly, moving, walking, conducting business now that he’s back from his honeymoon. “You okay?”
“No ‘ tickle my balls, my big bro is calling me ’? Are you sick? ”
“Busy,” he grunts out. “Some motherfucker took a shot at Cordoza this morning.”
“What?” I stride through my apartment door and slam it shut at my back. “Did they hit him?”
“No. But his army is mobile, and he’s pissed. Big pissed. It’d do me good if you had a sudden change of heart and came back here to be Tim the Third. I’m doing the job,” he clarifies. “But the city wants a Tim. That’s who you were born to be.”
“I’m not coming back. But I might have to be the Copeland City Tim if shit doesn’t calm down soon. Six of Nathan Booth’s foot soldiers were popped this morning in a drive-by. And now he’s got his remaining men on the streets, collecting every cent owed. Since I guess he’s preparing for war and needs money for that shit.”
“For fuck’s sake. Who is this kid, anyway? He’s a nobody, but he’s still annoying the shit out of me.”
“My thoughts exactly. He’s a violent gangbanger who got lucky, selling drugs on our streets and getting away with it because you’re all the way over there.”
“And you’re right there! It’s one thing to say you’re out, but fuck, Tim! It’s a whole other thing to be the fat cat watching the mouse steal your cream.”
“I’m not gonna stomp these streets and be the fuckin’ heir. I don’t want it, Lix!”
“And that’s a choice you get to make. But you need to remember that your choice affects your family. Booth wouldn’t exist if you’d stepped up and made your presence known, so the fact he does, and now he’s out there screwing with people, that’s on you.”
“It’s not my fuckin’ job to sweep a city clean and keep the drugs out!”
“No. It’s not. But you have the power to do something about it, and you’re choosing not to. That’s on you. Meanwhile, I’m putting out fires on the East Coast, so if you’re done wasting my time…”
“You’re a fucking asshole, Lix. You come out here with your obnoxiously cheerful bullshit and you pretend you’re better than the dude who came before you. But you’re still his son, and when you have to choose between business and family, seems you’re comfortable choosing work.”
“I choose business because business protects my family. Don’t you dare question the lengths I’ll go to protect you ungrateful motherfuckers. I’m busy. So unless you’ve got something important to say?— ”
“Nah, I’m good.” I hang up and crush the phone in my palm, anger coursing through my veins and sparking at the ends of my fingers. Rage burns me up. Because I’m the prick for questioning Felix when I know damn well he’s done nothing but protect the rest of us. I’m a dick for calling him out when his world is currently on fire. And now I’m on my side of the country, not doing shit all about cleaning up the streets I was born to rule. “Fuck!”
I cross my apartment and jerk the fridge door open, for no reason except to expel energy and give myself a moment to think. But I shut it again and release my grip on the phone. Then I dial Archer. Because he’s both: Malone and cop. And I’m not entirely sure which I need more right now.
“Yeah?” The precinct bustles around him. Cops coming and going, and orders shouted across a bullpen I make a point of staying out of. “What’s up?”
“Nathan Booth.”
“It’s not my case, but everyone is up in arms about it. They’re putting a task force together to bottle this shit up. Lieutenant Fabian has excluded me, though. He says it gets messy when we go to court.”
“He’s not wrong. Did you hear about Cordoza yet?”
He stops. His breath stops. His entire fucking life stops, if only for a second. “What happened to Cordoza?”
“Someone took a shot at him. Lix just told me.”
“He dead?”
“No. They missed. But Lix is stressed the fuck out, and now I’ve said some hurtful shit and left another scar on his heart. I was named after the old prick; it’s fitting I’d be just like him.”
“A name isn’t a destiny. And whatever you said can be fixed. Does he know who targeted Cordoza? Are they dead yet?”
“Don’t know. I didn’t get to that part, and now we’ve hung up. Do you know who took out Booth’s men? Because last I checked, Booth was building a sizable army of runners here in Copeland. If someone else is taking a swipe, then that someone else is powerful and looking to usurp the leader.”
“Don’t know, but one of the investigating officers has an informant, and that informant said he heard it was one of Booth’s own men. Unhappy with management or some shit. No confirmation yet, though. The girls have the six bodies down at the George Stanley. Pisses me right off every time they catch these cases.”
“Yeah. Same. Aubree said they’re not tossing them back. They’re gonna autopsy them and process the case out. ”
“Stubborn.” He sits back in his chair and groans. “What do you need from me?”
“I don’t know.” I turn to my counter and lean over it. Pressing my elbows to the cheap laminate, and scrubbing my free hand through my hair. “One of Booth’s guys came into the bar a few minutes ago. Seems Duane Emeri has racked up another debt, and Booth is looking to collect.”
“Wait.” His chair squeaks as he shoots up tall. “What? Duane Emeri? As in?—”
“Aubree’s brother. He’s been a constant pain in my ass for months, screwing around at Sarge’s and getting his ass beat when he doesn’t pay. So I step in and take care of it.”
“Tim!” He shoves up from his squeaking chair. “Are you fucking kidding me? And you’re only telling me now ?”
“Didn’t figure it was any of your business.”
“What about Aubree?” he growls. “Is it her business?”
“Nope. She doesn’t need to know her baby brother is a fuckwit, and she sure as shit doesn’t have to know she has a target on her back every time he rebuilds that debt. I’ve been taking care of it, and I talked to Duane last week, hoping to make him see sense.”
“But?”
“But he’s a moron. Emeri parents must’ve run out of brain cells by the time they got to the last kid, because Aubree got more than she needed, and he got none. The kid is too fucking young for the lines of credit he’s been given, and he’s too impulsive to get it under control. He thinks it’s cute that I’ll swoop in and clean up, because he knows I’ll do what I need to do to protect Aubree. Meanwhile, he keeps going back and losing more.”
“They’ll come for her if he doesn’t pay. Which means you’ll always clean up,” he growls. “Fuck, Tim. You’re on the hook for the rest of your life, or until he dies, or until you make a public claim and she becomes your wife.”
“Yeah, well…” My heart gives a heavy knock. “Yeah. Like I said, I took care of it.”
“Don’t fucking say it.” He steamrolls into an office and shuts the door so the walls rattle. “Don’t you fuckin— Cordoza? That’s the deal you made with Cordoza?!”
“Sort of.”
“Tim! And she doesn’t even know?”
“Small details.”
“Dude!”
“I thought they were small details, anyway. But having the marriage certificate doesn’t mean shit at all unless I claim her publicly. And I can’t publicly announce we’re married without risking death at the end of her scalpel. She’ll kill me for taking the choice out of her hands, and her feelings will be hurt when she thinks I did it out of duty over affection. Which means the protection I thought I’d bought counts for nothing unless I wanna get noisy.”
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.” He drops into another chair and scrubs a hand over his face. “So you and her now… Is it love, or to keep her safe? Are you actually in this relationship, or is it a show for Booth’s men, so they back the fuck up? Because if it’s the second, you’re gonna break her heart.”
“Can’t it be both? I’m in this relationship and I’m not giving her up, but I’m also putting things into place that ensure she lives to a hundred.”
“But those things aren’t in place till you announce it!” He scratches the stubble on his jaw, the noise filtering through the line. “Jesus. You’ve just tangled yourself up in a giant fucking deception. And getting out again is gonna cost you.”
“Yep.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know it. Add in that Duane thinks he’s got me by the balls, and now Booth is readying for war, and this entire fucking city is stressing me out.”
“So leave. Take Aubree on vacation and wait for the bullshit to blow over. Or stay, and make your announcements.”
“You know she’s not leaving without Mayet. And I can’t announce a damn thing without hurting a heart that deserves better.”
“Or you could ask her to marry you for real. Do up the wedding. Make it public and loud. That way Aubree’s an active participant, and your message gets out.”
“I’m trying! But weddings don’t happen in a week, and they never fucking happen if she won’t accept a man’s proposal. By the time I get her down the aisle, Booth will either be dead or ruling this city.”
“Sounds to me like you’re running out of options. Step up and take back your city, or sit down and let someone else do it. The latter puts your wife at risk.”
My wife.
I press a fist to my heart before it bursts from my chest and splatters onto the counter. Because those words— my wife —hurt and heal. They’re amazing and terrifying at the same time.
“Fuck, Archer. I have a wife.”
He chuckles, expelling his temper and relaxing. “Kinda offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding. But I’ll be sure to come to your funeral. We know you won’t survive when you break the news to her.”
“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” I draw a heaving breath and release it on a groan. “She’ll peel the skin from my bones and feed them to a cat. You think Mayet has a mean streak, but Aubree is just…”
“Ninja sneaky. The hits are harder because she appears like a cute little fairy princess in neon and glitter. At least my wife looks how she is. She has the resting bitch face and low tolerance for bullshit. We know what we’re getting with her.” He pauses for a beat, before coughing out a tormenting laugh. “You married her without telling her. And now you’re reaping the consequences. You didn’t see this coming?”
“Shut the fuck up.” I push up straight and circle my counter so I can head out again. “What do I do about Booth and Duane without blowing me and Aubree up in the process?”
“You exert the fucking power you were born with. Or you tell her the truth. Personally, I’d choose the first. Way less likely you’ll die that way.”
“You’re not being helpful, dickhead.”
He laughs as I stomp through my door and drag it closed behind me. I jog down the stairs and make a beeline through the bar.
“You put yourself in this cesspool of stupidity. Not my fault you made impulsive decisions. You’re the oldest of us all. You should have that shit under control already.”
“It wasn’t impulsive. It just wasn’t well thought out. There’s a difference.”
“Potato, potahto. Does anyone else know? Felix?”
“No. Just me, you, and Cordoza. Aubree knows Cordoza gave me an envelope that night of Felix’s wedding, but she has no clue what’s inside it.”
“Watch your back. If I’ve learned anything about these women, it’s that they like to get involved in shit they shouldn’t. If she hasn’t snuck a look at what’s in the envelope yet, she’s planning to. Chances are she’ll drag Minka into it, too. Then I’ll have to provide my wife with an alibi for your murder. The fewer fake alibis I have to create in my lifetime, the happier I’ll be.”
“How many fake alibis have you provided her so far?”
He scoffs. “That’s between me and God. Where are you going?”
“I dunno. I guess I gotta figure out who is shooting at Booth before I can choose my next steps. If it’s one of his own men, then I’ll leave it alone and let them sort themselves out. If it’s someone else, I’m gonna figure out who the fuck they are and what their end goal is. And if Duane continues to make a mess of himself, I might put him on a plane to Jamaica. I’ll include the cement shoes and have him pen a letter to his sister first, letting her know he’s okay and not to call him.”
“Your marriage sounds healthy and long lasting. Way to go, man. You’re a pro.”
“Shut the fuck up and mind your business. Don’t tell Fletch this shit, either. The less people who know before Aubree, the safer the secret.”
“Sorry, bud.” Fletch laughs on Archer’s side of the line. “I already know your business. Mazel Tov. And don’t tell her. It’ll break her heart. Just marry her again and pretend it’s the real one.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I roll my eyes. “You, especially, have a vested interest in putting Booth in a cage. Why haven’t you done it yet?”
“Because there are rules about cops picking on guys without cause. I don’t have a case against the prick, and I already have a harassment complaint in my file because I was, quote-unquote, stalking him at his private residence .”
I move through the bar’s front door and emerge into the sludging snow. “You went to his house?”
He chuckles. “I was there to talk, seeing as how he and his men put my ex-wife in the hospital and are now, I suspect, keeping her drug addled and in their spare bedroom. But he called it harassment, and I can’t search his home without a warrant. Now the captain thinks I’m a troublemaker and hates me more than he hates the mafioso’s son turned cop. And I gotta say, that was a pretty high bar to jump.”
“He won’t say anything to Aubree,” Archer cuts in. “But you gotta take care of your business soon. Because these things have a way of getting out.”
“How can it get out if three of the four people who know are on this phone call?” I demand. “Cordoza isn’t gonna say anything, and I trust you two to shut your mouths.”
“I made no promises,” Fletch quips. “She’s my friend, and I care that she’s happy. Make things right or I’ll blab all over the place. You’re on the clock.”
“You’re a fuckin’ dick, too.” I drag the phone from my ear and kill the call, only to look up and find myself on the sidewalk. Buses and cars putter by on my right. People coming and going, but none really paying attention to me. Loads of those who walk by are in cop uniforms, or sharp suits as they head toward court. EMTs. Nurses.
Most are oblivious to the fact they stride around a man who was born to lay scourge on their city. Rule it, or burn it. They’re clueless to how close they are to the destiny my father wished for me .
And they have no fucking clue how hard I fight, day after day, not to give in to the one thing I was born for.
Every man wants power. Most bathe in it and swell fat with how good it makes them feel.
But if I allow myself even an inch, just a single day of sitting on the throne I was bred for, I’m terrified I might like it.
My legacy will be to spite my namesake. Not become him. But there are days like today, where those lines blur and I’m not sure which direction I should go.
“Fuck.” I bring a hand up and glance to my left. Where do I go next?