TWENTY SEVEN
P oison led Gavin into her territory. The red and blue lights of emergency vehicles cast unnerving shadows across the wreckage. A flickering street lamp flashed as if sending SOS signals into the night. Though the fires seemed under control, the smoke still hung in the air like the breath of an ominous beast.
Parking in front of The Grave Bar, Poison stared at the chaos, guilt lighting every nerve in her body.
“What happened here?” Gavin whispered next to her.
She didn’t notice him walking up to her. Taking a deep breath, she slipped off her bike.
“Gang violence,” she answered with a straight face. “But it would be better for your own sake if you didn’t ask any further questions. Keep your nose clean,” she warned.
“Are you part of these gangs?” he asked, and she sighed heavily.
“What did I just say about asking questions?” She raised a brow at him.
“Okay, okay. Just one last one,” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “What can I do to help?”
“Are you on- or off duty?”
“Off duty,” he said.
“Keep it that way and I’m sure there are some civilians who need help cleaning up.”
With a nod, he jogged down the street and started helping a store owner board up their broken windows. The door to The Grave Bar opened next to Poison as Skel stepped outside, and spotted her.
“Who’s that?” he asked, flanking her, crossing his arms.
“A cop,” she murmured, and she felt Skel’s spine stiffen next to her.
“What the fuck, P?” he growled. “You involved with a cop?”
“Not here,” she hissed, tearing her eyes from Gavin. “We can talk inside.”
Turning on her heel, she walked into the bar, not waiting to see if Skel followed. She walked straight to the bar, where Marty was cleaning his shotgun. Hearing her footsteps, he gave her one look and placed two glasses on the counter, filling them with clear liquid.
“Thanks,” she muttered, knocking back the content of one of the glasses. “Would you mind giving us a moment, Marty?”
He nodded, stood, and cocked his shotgun before walking to his office door at the back of the bar.
“You can put the bottle on my tab,” she called to him, downing the second glass.
She grabbed the bottle of liquor and two glasses before walking to the pool table, where Skel stood bent over a city map of her territory.
“What’s the extent of the damage?” she asked, filling the glasses on the edge of the green baize.
Skel circled an area on the map with his finger. “It’s concentrated in this area. They moved slow but did a thorough job destroying everything in their wake.”
“How many families were displaced?” she asked, her heart breaking for the loss they had suffered because of her.
“Only three, luckily. They mainly focused on the businesses,” he answered.
She took a moment to look at Skeldon. If she hadn’t known him, she would have sworn he was military-trained. She had never witnessed such mastery over emotions or handling of difficult situations. He was a colonel at war, and every thought, every action was measured and calculated.
“Set the families up at the barracks until we can rebuild.”
Skel nodded and immediately texted their crew to help the families.
“Everyone’s insurance is up to date, so we shouldn’t have trouble on that front.”
“That’s good,” she answered, staring at the map again.
Skel turned and leaned against the table. With arms crossed, he stared at her.
“You mind telling me what’s going on now?” He studied her, and the intensity of his gaze made her look away.
Downing her drink, she poured another and retrieved her cigarettes from her backpack. Only once she perched on a bar stool, blowing out puffs of smoke, did she look at him again.
“You might want to sit down for this,” she said, sighing.
“Does this have anything to do with Reaper returning?” he asked, pulling a chair closer and sitting down.
She shook her head. “Yes and no,” she answered. “It is because of him, but he didn’t do this.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Skel said, leaning his forearms on his knees.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” she explained, suddenly self-conscious.
“The cop outside?” he exclaimed, but she stopped him with a raised hand.
“No, not the cop. I only met him tonight.”
“How does he fit into all of this?” he asked with knotted eyebrows.
“I’m getting to that,” she answered. “So the guy I’ve been seeing is Scorpion, leader of the Dune Demons.”
“How did I not know about this?” he demanded.
A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She knew Skel’s most lethal weapon was his information. He knew everyone, and everything and was her eyes and ears in the underworld.
“It was still very new,” she shrugged.
“So you broke his heart, and he broke your territory?”
“Something like that,” She drew from her cigarette again, blowing out clouds of smoke. “I killed his brother,” she stated. There was no reason to beat around it.
“Tidal? P, that wasn’t you,” he blurted, his control slipping.
“No, not him. His name was Double R.”
Poison explained everything to Skel. From meeting Scorpion, to Reaper showing up everywhere she was, to meeting Gavin and everything in between. Once she was done, the bottle of liquor was nearly empty, and Skel was quiet.
“Say something,” she almost begged. “I know I’ve done the crew and our territory a lot of harm. I will understand if you feel that you need to challenge me for leadership.”
That made Skel look up. “Are you mental?” he blurted. “Sorry.” He snapped his jaw shut and shook his head. “I just mean, I would never.”
“I don’t deserve to be the leader of the Silver Serpents anymore.”
“Spare me the pity party, P,” Skel said, staring at her. “This is not on you.”
“How do you reckon that?” she asked with raised brows.
“This is all on Reaper. He played you,” he stated flatly.
“The truth would have come out sooner or later,” she countered.
“I just want to know how he made the connection with Scorpion. You don’t think they are working together?”
“No way,” she answered. “Meeting Scorpion was a coincidence. I can’t see how he and Reaper could have orchestrated that. Besides, Reaper has been out of the city for the past ten years.”
“Yet he still kept tabs on you. Why do you think he did that?”
She could see Skel trying to piece the puzzle together.
“I swore I would kill him. If I were in his shoes, I’d
have done the same.”
“Somewhere, we’re missing something. What’s Reaper’s motives for turning Scorpion on you?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she shrugged, emptying the bottle into their glasses.
Poison stared out the tinted windows; the sun’s rays didn’t have any impact on the dim interior of the club. The sun was up.
“Shit,” she hissed, looking at her watch. “I got to call in to work. I can’t go into the office today. There’s too much to do here.”
“Take care of it,” Skel said, rising from his seat. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
She grabbed her phone, amazed that the battery was still alive, and emailed her assistant, letting her know that she was taking a personal day and that all work-related emails should be forwarded to her personal account.
As soon as she was done, she walked over to Marty’s office, knocked on the door, and opened it. The old man was asleep in his chair behind his desk, cradling his shotgun.
Poison shook her head with a smile, closed the door, and got the spare keys under the counter. She’ll hand it over to Cat as soon as she saw her.
Walking out of the door, she locked it behind her and pocketed the keys. She found Skel in the street, giving her a questioning look.
“Marty is asleep,” she explained. “Didn’t want to bother him.”
“Best to not wake a sleeping dog,” he laughed. “He’s got an itchy trigger finger.”
“That he does,” she answered with a smile. “I’ll give the keys to Cat once I see her.”
“You know she’s going to want to know what’s going on, right?”
Poison sighed. “I know,” she said. “Busy-body that one.”
Skel gave a low chuckle as they walked down the street. “So, the cop?”
“What about him?”
“Is he going to be trouble?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered.
And she really didn’t. She didn’t know where she stood with Gavin, which frightened her. He didn’t seem like the type to just let things go, and he seemed too honorable to be bought. It didn’t help that Reaper assaulted a cop. Things would have been much less complicated if he had been a civilian. She had a feeling that Gavin wouldn’t take her advice and just forget about everything.
“I’ll handle him,” she promised.
“I know you will,” Skel answered, and his loyalty and faith in her tightened her chest.
“Poison!”
Poison turned in the direction of the voice calling her name as a dark head bounced her way. She couldn’t help but smile at Cat, her petite appearance making her look a lot younger than she was. Which only added to Poison’s protective instincts being heightened around her. Cat was family, her sister.
“Mi hermana,” she breathed once in earshot. “There’s a very cute guy asking questions about you.”
Poison’s blood ran cold. It could only be Gavin.
“Where is he?” she asked, walking in the direction Cat came from.
“At the florist,” Cat answered, pointing over her shoulder. “He do be very handsome though. He yours?”
“No,” Poison answered bluntly. Cat had a tendency to run with a story. “He’s a Normal.”
“Oh, ‘coz here I thought I saw him flashing a badge,” Cat said, mirroring her casualness with an added disappointed look that could rival that of any mother.
“You’re joking, right?” Poison knew it was redundant to ask.
“Mind telling me what’s going on? And why he’s calling you Minke?” she challenged, those perfectly manicured eyebrows scowling.
“As soon as I take care of him,” she promised, heading to the flower shop.
“This should be interesting,” Skel said with a sigh.
“Don’t worry,” Cat said, flanking her left as the three of them walked to the shop. “Nobody ain’t saying nothing.”
A bit of relief crept in at Cat’s words. She doesn’t know why she’s still surprised at everyone’s loyalty to her, even after all this time.
She took care of her territory. The areas under the control of the Italians, Old Americans, or Japanese lived in constant fear. They had to pay for protection, and if they didn’t, those services were turned on them. She didn’t expect any payment from her territory. They paid her if they wanted to give a donation, whether cash or favor, but she protected them without incentive. The only thing she expected from them was protection of her in return.
She found Gavin picking up flowers and debris in front of the flower shop. His face was covered in sweat and dirt, and the swelling of his eye was almost entirely gone.
“What happened to him?” Cat asked, and Poison caught her ogling Gavin.
“Cat,” Poison laughed, “You’re drooling,” she teased.
Cat gave her a big feline grin and pretended to rub the drool from her lip.
“I can’t help that he’s so yummy,” she purred. “And he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”
“Give me a break.” Skel rolled his eyes, and with a smile walked over to where Normals needed assistance.
“We’ll just see about that,” Poison said, wondering how strong Gavin’s moral compass was.
She indicated to Cat to stay behind as she walked up to him.
“Gavin,” she said his name by way of greeting. He
dropped everything in his hands as his face lit up at the sight of her.
“Minke,” he beamed.
“I hear you’re asking questions about me?” She cut to the chase. “What part of don’t ask any questions don’t you understand?”
“A lot of good it did me,” he shrugged. “No one here wants to tell me anything.” He seemed disappointed.
“That’s because around here, I’m known as Poison.”
Gavin froze, and she hoped to hell that her gut was right—that Gavin could be trusted.