Chapter 5 #2
“Hmm,” I say, rubbing my chin. “Let's go find my sister then.” Meredith. Her name sounds in my mind. This is why I'm here at this shitty excuse for a bar. They're capitalizing on my enemies' casinos and local hotels. Hoping to make enough money to stay afloat.
Fucking Nathanial Franco. He’s taken over the city, snatching up any sort of real estate he can get his hands on and building casinos to enhance his cash flow behind legitimate business. And his three foster sons–Huxley, JJ, and Mack–are by his side, stealing what doesn’t belong to them.
Fuckers.
I will take down their kingdom piece by piece and burn them, too. Huh. Fire sounds mighty handy right now. I could just toss it on everyone and win the game of life.
This town has only had Franco and his gang running things for so long, providing jobs and financial security. Well, within the next year, that will be changing. Boss Man has a massive takeover plan, and I can’t wait to execute it.
Too bad Meredith isn't the only person who has gone missing after visiting this place. It seems Franco might be up to something more than casinos and ruining more lives than he already has.
I'll be back.
I grin when knocking sounds at the bathroom door and a drunken girly voice carries through the solid wood while urgently pounding against it. Right. We're in the women's bathroom. Or perhaps my ghost came back to visit and tell me she's back for good.
I don't think she knew who I was. But I knew who she was.
“Hey! You can't lock this door! I have to pee!” a heavily slurred female voice says on the other side, pounding harder. Sobs pour from her lips, which is usually music to my ears. From my enemies only, though.
“That's our cue. Let's go home,” Wilder says, tucking the memory stick into his jeans pocket. “Can’t bring any more attention to ourselves.” He gives me a look. A very judgmental look.
He's just jealous I lost my virginity in a bar bathroom and didn’t discuss it with him first. He’s my keeper, after all.
He feels entitled to my life choices and decisions.
Of course, Boss Man appointed him to that position basically from the beginning, knowing I’d go off the rails and murder a few people. Whoops.
“Home…” I trail off when the door swings open, revealing a woman with furrowed brows and a reddened face. She doesn't ask questions, barging past us and into a stall, muttering to herself.
I follow Wilder out into the darkened hallway, looking around. Her perfume hits me immediately, mixed with our combined scent. She was here, standing in this spot. I stop, inhaling her until it dissipates.
Something happens behind my rib cage. My heart. It pounds with exhilaration. Ready to track her down and take her again. Maybe keep her. Tied to my bed and never let her go.
Our history is rich. Combined. Only, I don't think she had a damn clue who I was.
Even better.
The fog my ghost left behind lifts. Rage consumes me, drowning out the creaking of my black heart.
Meredith. Her picture on the corkboard has disappeared. I want her front and center every time someone passes down this hallway. I want them to look at her and take notice.
Now, she’s gone.
I swivel my gaze from left to right. There's nothing here. Employee-only rooms line the hall. Rooms I'll upend when no one is looking.
X Marks the Spot is ground zero. I'm sure of it. Only, I don't have any clues except Meredith and her disappearance.
“It's gone.” I point to the board where millions of business cards sit untouched.
But my sister's face and missing poster have disappeared.
Much like her physical self. I frown. I know I put it up here a few days ago when we came in.
It was there when I dragged my little ghost to the bathroom. And now?
Gone. Missing. Disappeared right under my damn nose. I always promised to protect her after I found out she existed.
And look, I failed.
Wilder sighs, reaching into his back pocket and taking out another flier, and sticks it on the board again.
The same flyers we made. We had to. The police in this town are useless.
Deep in Franco's pocket. Well, some of them anyway.
Others are in our pockets. But it's been a long, hard fight to get Boss Man where he is.
I trust no one with this task. Not the police—they weren't helpful. Not Nathaniel Franco and his fucked up army. They're probably the reason she's gone. Hell, I hardly trust the man I pledged my undying loyalty to. My boss.
Only Wilder has my trust.
I barely trust myself in most cases.
Life is funny like that.
Trust is non-existent when you grew up as unstable as I did.
Just ask the woman I murdered as she begged me not to. Wait, you can't.
I shake my head, ridding my mind of the past.
“We have a small lead. We'll find her, okay?” Wilder slaps my shoulder a few times and pulls away with realization.
“If we don't…” I trail off as we saunter through the loud bar unnoticed.
“They'll face our wrath, Malic.” He raises a brow when the warm August heat hits us square in the face.
That they will. They'll meet the maniac bubbling beneath my flesh, aching to take his frustrations out on unsuspecting faces.
“How about a welcome back event?” I hum, following him to our vehicle.
Wilder nods. “You want everyone to be invited? Even…Them?” His nose wrinkles at the thought of Franco's special sons. His brother, Mack, included. Who knew two brothers with half of the same blood rolling through their veins could hate each other so much?
“Especially them,” I chuckle, slamming the door shut.
Visions of slamming my fist into their faces and watching as they bleed come to mind. Hate isn't a strong enough word for what I feel for the bastards in line to rule this town.
Huxley. JJ. Mack.
They can all burn with this place once I'm done with it.
They may be playing pretend at Greenwood U until they are needed to continue the family business. But what they don't know won't hurt them.
They know we're here. They know the gang we represent. They know us by name. But the game we're playing?
They don't have a fucking clue.
It's time to knock some crowns off three princes’ inflated heads.
“There's fucking nothing there,” Wilder says, slamming his laptop shut and tucking it under his arms. He flings the memory stick across the room, slamming it into the wall.
Indeed. There wasn't a stitch of a clue there on the surveillance footage.
Just Meredith walking out of the bar with no one at her side.
Or behind her. Or in front of her. She was alone.
Happy. Smiling, the entire time while she drank at the bar.
Nick, our overly friendly bartender, paid special attention to her.
But nothing suspicious. Or out of the ordinary.
It's fucking frustrating.
Meredith went to the bar to meet some friends. They left ten minutes before her, and then, she ceased to exist. If only we had footage from the outside of the building from the casinos across the street.
Easier said than done, but we’re working on it. Gathering more information and waiting for them to send us the intel we paid for on the down low. Patience is a virtue. But not in my case.
My fingers curl into fists. A heat works up my neck, spiking rage through my veins and pumping hard.
Meredith is out there somewhere. Alone. Possibly hurting. Dead. Kidnapped. Anything is possible.
My eyes screw shut. Feelings bubble inside me, almost pushing through the numbness and fog of my mind. Why can't we find her? What's the point of being in our position if she slipped between our fingers like sand?
We're fucking useless to her. Unless we get ahead of the game.
Wilder paces, shaking his head. “Every fucking clue is a dead end. She can't have just disappeared!” he shouts, throwing his fist into my bedroom door.
Well, that will leave a mark. On him. On my door.
For several seconds, he stands with his back to me. Heaving breath after breath until he walks out with a grunt.
He'll be back.
Heavy footsteps pound down the hall until Wilder's bedroom door opens and slams shut. Shuffling happens between the walls. No doubt, setting his laptop down and collecting the cigarettes he refuses to smoke.
I sigh. My mind immediately wanders to Meredith, wondering where she is and who took her from me. She is innocent. She has no association with me or the company I decided to keep. All for the sake of survival.
Guilt eats away at every molecule inside me.
“We'll fucking find her,” Wilder grunts, leaning in the doorway of my room with an unlit cigarette resting between his lips. Always unlit now. “I’m still waiting on Bobby to get back to me with more surveillance footage from the casino across the street. If he doesn’t text me back soon, I’ll track him down at the fucking horse races. ”
See? I knew he'd come back.
“I got the word out about the fight,” he rumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “And I know just the assholes to call out.” He smirks when his phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out, typing something quickly.
Even though the Coliseum is basically run by the three idiots we hate, anyone can create a fight night to their liking, with or without their approval.
Like we just did.
“That was quick.” I raise a brow, taking out my phone and peering at the small announcement on our university’s slam page.
A place for students to write their dirty little secrets and unburden themselves anonymously. Like fucking Gossip Girl. Not that I've watched it or anything.
No one knows who runs it. I mean, I have my ways. I could find out in a heartbeat. But I won't. It's the quickest and easiest way possible to spread the word about parties, fights, and events.
In our case. A welcome back punch fest. Blood for blood. Broken bones for broken bones. All on neutral grounds. Animosity be damned.
It's music to my ears.
Fight. First Friday after students return. Coliseum. Midnight.
If there's one thing I can say about Wilder, he’s efficient. But I know he needs this as much as I do.
The blood, crunching bones, and the thrill of whooping some ass.
I'm getting hard thinking about it. I blink several times, staring at my dick rising in my jeans. Well, this is quite the new adventure for me. Thanks for awakening, Big guy.
And it’s all thanks to her.
But you can deflate now. We’ll save all that for another time.
Wilder grins at his phone, putting the cigarette behind his ear. Relief seems to spill over his features, and he loosens up. Obviously, he got what he wanted.
“Hux says he'll fight you. Gladly, if I'm quoting him.” Wilder rolls his eyes. “I'll beat Malic’s ass any day of the week.” He mocks Huxley fucking Crewe’s voice.
Cocky douche.
My teeth grit at the thought of him. It's his fault. All of it. And I can't wait to beat his face in. Just like last time.
Hux doesn't stand a fucking chance against me. I'm undefeated, underestimated, and his ass-beating has been in the works for years now. He may have done something heroic a few years ago, but that doesn’t excuse who he is now.
“And for you?” I ask, leaning back on my queen-sized bed with my hand tucked behind my head.
Wilder shoves his phone away, knowing what I'm asking. It's the question I ask every time we line up fights, which happens at least twice a month. It's for our sanity. And the campus. They pick an opponent, and we facilitate the ring. It's a win-win. Plus, it draws a crowd and money.
“The day that asshole gets into the ring with me, is the day Hell freezes over.” He flings a hand recklessly. “Mack's a pussy. Always has been,” he practically spits his brother's name out like a curse.
“So who then?”
Blood soars through my veins the more I think about the upcoming school year at Greenwood U and the fights that will ensue in our Coliseum overlooking the ocean. A piece of Greenwood living in the infamy of the pirate who landed here on his last leg.
“Whoever shows up,” he grunts, shrugging.
“You hear about the grand party they’re throwing?” I ask, yawning.
Wilder puts the cigarette between his lips again. “Who hasn't heard about it? No one is even on campus yet and it's the talk of the fucking town.” Not to mention, they throw it every year. It’s a tradition of sorts. Only, the masses don’t realize the meaning behind the charade.
“How about we have our own?” I grin.
“One of our own, huh? New recruits?” Wilder raises a brow with interest. Parties aren’t usually his scene. He’d rather hide in the shadows with an unlit cigarette between his lips, watching people.
I nod.
“See who is interested. Boss said it would be good for us to branch out. Maybe ruffle some feathers,” I chuckle. “New blood and all that.”
We may have our own organization and frat house near campus, but we're always looking for new people to pledge to our cause. We’ve been secretly growing right under Franco’s fat nose for years now. It’s about time we come out to the world as serious contenders.
Now the kings of campus will know we mean business.
There's a new leader in town and has been for years. He's ready to play ball and fight against the heirs of Greenwood. Oh, and their scumbag father.
Wilder makes his exit. No doubt, sauntering into his room to stare at the walls, rethinking all his life choices. And Meredith, of course.
As for me, I sit back in my bed, pulling out my phone and one lone photograph I've kept since I was fifteen.
She sits there, not bothering to smile at the camera. Staring straight into the lens. Into my fucking soul. I sit beside her. Timid and shell-shocked, staring straight ahead like I hadn't witnessed multiple atrocities the night before I met her.
She was clueless. Yet, welcomed me without question.
“My Little Ghost,” I murmur, running a finger over her face. “You've returned from the dead.”
Well, not technically the dead because she was never there. She survived. I saw it with my own eyes. The world may think my little ghost is a decaying corpse resting under six feet of dirt with her name etched in marble, but I know the truth.
Me. Her. Him.
“And I'll stop at nothing to follow you to the ends of the earth.” I smile at my phone, noting the blinking red dot near the Grand Hotel.
“Gotcha.”
And then my smile slips when the dot blinks out, and she disappears from sight.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, nearly throwing my phone into the wall. But I stop myself. It’s my only lifeline to Meredith. She could text or call at any moment, begging for help. So, I refrain. For now, at least.
“I found you once, Little Ghost,” I murmur to myself with a sigh, climbing off my bed and sitting on the ground.