18. Levi
LEVI
T he Columbia Club.
I’ve always hated the place.
“How quaint,” Christian remarks, following behind me. I’m not stupid enough not to bring a second.
Christian and I get yearly invites to join, despite rejecting them every time. Now, standing in front of the old brick building located in the heart of Seattle, I find my skin is crawling like I’ve been swarmed by a thousand fire ants.
The air feels . . . pompous. Thick with expectation and pansy-assed men who would rather pay someone to hold their dicks for them when they piss than get their hands dirty.
The Cross’s prefer the dirt and grime. The Columbia Club is for men like our father, who hire men like us to do the dirty work for them.
I don’t belong here.
I stride up to the front door, and the doorman holds out a hand to stop me.
Of course he does. I don’t fit the part.
Black hoodie. Dark jeans and boots. I don’t use gel of that fancy pomade shit in my hair, so it’s wild and unkempt. The scar on my lip, ironically, from Dad’s Columbia ring, which he was so proud of.
I’m exactly the type of man this club was created to avoid.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
Both of us answer in unison. “No.”
I move to step past him, but he remains determined to be in the way.
“Ten o’clock meeting with Palmer,” I grunt.
He glances at the Rolex on his wrist. “It’s fifteen after.”
“Which is why you need to get the fuck out of my way.”
If he were wearing pearls, he’d be clutching them, judging by the shocked expression on his face. How dare I use a curse word on the great steps of douche?
“I can’t let you—”
Fortunately, Christian’s only knocks him out.
The guard dog hits the ground like a bag of bricks. I look at Christian. Cock a brow. Christian shrugs.
“He was in the way.”
He’s not wrong.
I stroll through the front doors, whistling under my breath. The club is situated in an ancient brick building in the heart of downtown Seattle. Men from all over the country come here to join its ranks, but few are actually let in.
Surprisingly enough, you can walk right through the front door if you know how to fight.
I’ve never understood the need for the extravagance that this place is made of.
As if the world didn’t know they were rich, the men who created this place needed somewhere to come when they wanted to cheat on their wives with each other.
To bring their mistresses or to discuss business that the public can’t hear.
It’s all a bunch of bullshit, and from the moment I enter, I’m on edge.
I pass by a few rooms off the main foyer, ignoring the prying eyes that follow me as I walk.
Most are gathered in a large room lined with plush couches and oversized televisions showing the game.
I’ve never been one to care about football.
I’ve always had more important shit to worry about, I guess, but the sound drifting out the French double doors reminds me of a different time when life was simpler.
You know, back when I had shit figured out and someone wasn’t investigating me for murder.
I make my way through to the back, where I was told he’d be, nodding to a man whose eyes follow me as I go. He nods back once, his expression guarded, before he walks away.
I push through the double doors at the end of the hall and step into a den filled with smoke. Men have cigars hanging from their mouths, and the air reeks of booze and elitist ideology. They’re all gathered around a pool table, while a few of them cheer on Palmer and another douche I don’t know.
They don’t notice Christian and me when we walk in, too immersed in watching Palmer stroke his ego to see me join their group.
That’s fine. I’ve learned how to be patient.
I merge into the crowd while Palmer lines up his shot. The fucker grins when he sinks the six ball into a corner pocket and takes a bow for his posse of undulating scrotums.
“What did I tell you?” Palmer drags the poor girl next to him under his arm. “I’m the fucking best.”
Jesus, I fucking hate this guy.
Man, let me tell you. The silence in the room when I start clapping is something to be reckoned with. Everyone turns to look at me, their eyes going wide. It’s even better to watch the smile fade from Palmer’s face when he sees me standing across from him.
“Looks like someone’s been practicing.”
Palmer’s glare intensifies.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Cross?”
I smile, holding out my hands with a shrug. “Just came to have a little conversation. It’s been a long time, buddy. We should really catch up.”
Palmer’s jaw tenses, and his little lap dog, Swanson, steps up to bat first.
“You aren’t welcome here.”
I can’t help but chuckle under my breath.
“You think that’s funny?”
“The thought that you think you’ve got enough balls to throw me out is.” I round the table slowly, my hand gliding along the felt. One look at Christian and he knows what I’m going to do. Fortunately, he doesn’t try to stop me. “How tall are you now, Boy Wonder? Five-one, five-two?”
“Better yet, how has your life been since you left the Lollipop Guild?” Christian chimes, and I’m reminded why I love my brother.
Swanson’s face turns red, but luckily for him, Palmer stops him from going any further.
“Enough,” he hisses. “What do you want, Cross?”
“Now, is that any way to talk to your best friend?”
“You’ve got five seconds to tell me what the hell you want before I tell Matt you’re causing a disturbance.”
Alright, dickhead, if that’s how you want to play it. . .
“Right,” I smile. “How could I forget. Lying is your specialty.”
I look at the camera in the corner of the room. The light is still red.
“You see, Palmer, the other day, my girl came home and said someone was following her. She couldn’t tell me who it was, so I did some digging. Turns out, they’re saying their name is Black. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
He stares at me coldly for a moment, his eyes taking on that sinister gleam that not many get to see. Then he makes the mistake of laughing under his breath.
“Should have known you’d go after the little mistake,” he says darkly.
A few of the men chuckle in the group, following Palmer’s lead.
I chuckle right along with them.
Three . . . two . . . one . . .
The light turns off on the camera in the corner of the room.
And then I swing.
The number eight-ball in my hand smashes into the side of his head, sending him stumbling back.
“ Fuckkk . . . ” He groans in pain, doubling over to clutch the spot. Too bad we’re just getting started.
“Don’t even think about it,” Christian warns Swanson, when everyone else backs away from Palmer.
Walking over to Palmer, I grab his hair, yanking him up, and drag him to the pool table. He’s still disoriented when I shove him face down into the slate, his slobber coloring the felt.
“What the fuck?” he curses, trying to fight me off, but I’m bigger than him. Funny how now that the shoe’s on the other foot, he’s not so tough.
I stoop down in front of his face, close enough so only he can hear what I have to say.
To be honest, I wanted to string him up by his balls when I read those messages on Ava’s phone earlier tonight.
What I’m going to do to him is child’s play compared to what will happen if he goes near my girl again.
“That was for thinking you could fuck with her.”
I drag his head back, shoving his face harder into the slate.
“That was because you’re a lying piece of shit.”
Yanking his head away from the table, I bring my knee to his face, ignoring the pain when I hear the sound of his bones crunching fill the air.
Yanking his head away from the table, I bring my knee to his face, ignoring the pain when the sound of his bones crunching fill the air.
“And that’s just because I don’t fucking like you.”
He collapses to his knees, his nose gushing blood down the front of him. He glares at me, his entire body shaking with rage when I crouch down in front of him.
“The next time you come near her, I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.”
I shove away from him and stand, reaching into my back pocket and pulling out the flash drive he sent her after.
“So you don’t have to send any more girls to my house to do your dirty work for you.”
“You think she’s safe in your castle, Cross?
” he cackles from behind me when I stalk towards the door.
I turn, my gaze locking on his. There’s blood seeping from his nose down into his teeth, making his smile all the more sinister.
“It doesn’t matter what you do to protect her, sooner or later, someone’s going to come for her, and there’s not a damned thing you can do to stop it. ”
All I can do is laugh under my breath.
“Good luck.”