Chapter 36 Jj
The moment I wake up and put my hearing aids in, I sigh at the soundless house. Nothing but static greets my ears. And for once, I'm glad. Some moments deserve to be felt in the nothingness the world has to offer.
Like right now. No one seems to be home.
Or they're both sleeping off our late-night mission with the Blue Spider Gang where we tightened our alliance with them and shook on a new deal. I don't blame them. The run we had last night wasn’t as difficult as it could have been, but it was still tiring. It’s a song and dance with other mob families.
Meals. Drinks. Talking. It’s endless until we get down to business.
A yawn takes me over as I peer out the window near the edge of my mattress.
The sun shines bright in the sky, highlighting the grounds below our home, gleaming off the headstones lining the slightly hilly terrain.
Growing up here, the graveyard was our playground.
A pang explodes in my chest as the ghosts of us dances over the graves, laughing at each other's jokes.
I rub my chest, alleviating the guilty pangs bouncing around inside my chest.
Olivia should be here.
We should have saved her from the damnation that was her life. If only Franco had stepped in and saved her from her father's abuse. Or the fucking fire that consumed their home and took her and her family. We should have been there to protect her.
"We'll always protect you, Liv," Hux murmurs into her hair, pulling her tight as we sprawl on the treehouse floor, listening to the trees creak with the wind. The windows let in the cooler air of the September night as the full moon watches from the shadows of the clouds.
"One day, I'll protect myself, thank you very much," she sasses with a snort, turning to look at Mack and me on her other side. A blanket keeps us all covered and our clothes are crumpled in the corner.
"No, absolutely not, Livy. We're your men. Your protectors. We slay the dragons. You just..."
"Just what?" she asks with a false seriousness, pursing her lips. "Continue that statement."
I hide my grin behind my hand. Mack's such an idiot when he runs his macho mouth.
"Well... You know...." He waves a hand.
"No, Macklyn. I don't think I know. Because if you were going to say..."
"I wasn't!" Mack huffs, leaning down to take her lips with his. "Now, shut up and kiss me."
I roll my eyes. "You can't just kiss her every time you want to change the subject."
Olivia moans into his mouth, moving to straddle his lap. The blanket falls off her bare skin, and I harden watching her grind against Mack's erection.
"Why not?" Hux quips, watching the show with lust filling his eyes. "It seems to work."
I squeeze my eyes shut, hanging my head.
Today is one of those days when the memories chase me no matter where I go.
Every piece of this land. This fucking town.
Holds the ghost of the girl I lost forever.
There's no traveling to see her. No phone calls or letters.
Only a gravestone and buildings with her name on them.
The real Olivia Viotto is gone. Body and soul.
The only sign she ever existed hangs in my mind.
The images I have of the woman she was. Growing up with her.
Loving her. Now, she's just a name etched into a marble headstone, staring back at me.
She can't speak or eat, or even react to our lives.
Sometimes, I wish I could build a time machine and erase the grief of losing her and bring her back from the brink of death.
If only she were here now. If only she had lived with us instead of in that home. Maybe she wouldn't have suffered under the cruel flames of a faulty electric system. The day I lost her, I lost myself and my brothers in the process.
We're not the same people we were five years ago.
How could we be? It's like the heart of us stopped beating and pumping blood to the rest of the extremities. From that point, we've barely survived. Barely figured out how to put one foot in front of the other one without her.
Every day is hell without Olivia. Some days we can drink away the pain of not having her here and numb the grief sticking to us like fucking glue. But most days, we're the shell of who we used to be.
Like today.
Grief is a fucking rotten existence. Some days you’re fine or appear to be okay. You walk through life, laugh, and exist. Others, you’re unable to get out of bed, holding onto the memories of the person who left you without warning.
With one last lingering look out the window, I peel my eyes away and force myself to move. Before my class later in the day, I need to spend some time on my laptop and continue following the black SUV through the town's various camera systems.
Whoever they are, they're responsible for cracking Olivia's grave.
I promised Mack I'd find the culprits. I also made a promise to myself.
Find the people responsible for destroying a piece of us.
And I'm so damn close to exposing them. It takes too much time to hack into each business's surveillance systems. Time I don't fucking have.
I wish I could speed this process up and find them already, but I have to be careful and take my time. Or I might miss something important.
I yawn again when I stand tall next to my bed and stretch my arms over my head.
With a sigh, I check the time on my phone and nod.
Yeah. Mack's out on his run, and Huxley?
Well, he's probably still in bed, sleeping off the night's events.
We aren't strangers to taking out the competition in Greenwood.
The only red light we've ever gotten is that fucker Malic and Wilder.
Franco refuses to let us take out the trash and eliminate them.
The guys have fun fighting them, but it's something I'll never understand.
"As long as they aren't stealing our shit, they're harmless," Franco says from behind his desk, waving a hand. "Leave them be. Have fun punching their faces in and excelling at school like they can't," he scoffs, picking up the newspaper for the day.
There's something there. Something Franco has decided not to tell us. It's a mystery who they work for. We know their boss owns a gym in town and pays his dues around the city. What we don't know is who the fuck he is. The only two people who have met him face-to-face are our enemies.
Whatever.
Another problem for another day.
I quickly grab my laptop and shove my feet into my house slippers, and make my way down the stairs toward the kitchen. After setting my laptop on the kitchen island, I make myself a fresh cup of coffee and sit.
I click a few times, going over the map, and follow the black SUV by several more businesses.
Unfortunately, I can't make out their damn faces.
The footage is too grainy, and the SUV's windows are too tinted for a clear picture.
I curl my fist, hacking into an ATM camera that's next on the route, following it down the long stretch of road running through the heart of Greenwood.
By the casinos, over the bridge, over the lake, and through more of the town.
For the next two hours, I sip multiple cups of coffee and lose myself in the trail of the SUV.
At some point, Mack comes back and goes straight into the basement gym, grunting something about being pissed off at her grave being ruined among other things.
But I don't pay any attention to his mumblings or the loud music echoing through the house. It's the same thing every morning.
"JJ, find those pricks so I can hunt them down and disembowel them for sport.
" Yeah, okay, fucking psychopath. That's what I think every time he looks at me.
I'm almost positive he would do just that—end their lives.
I want to make them pay, too. No one destroys that grave without consequence.
But Franco's influence can only get us so fucking far.
I blow the steam off my newest cup of coffee and sigh when the bitter taste hits my taste buds.
They rejoice in the caffeine keeping me awake and the taste of the nectar doing it.
My brows furrow when the SUV pulls into a hotel's parking lot.
Greenwood Grand Hotel. It's a newer building in Greenwood.
A hotel built for the wealthier visitors coming to town and visiting the casinos in their spare time.
It's in the heart of the city. Downtown.
And perfect for walking to your destination.
Restaurants line the road, and a casino is on almost every corner, lighting up the space.
I lean in, my heart pounding hard, when a man emerges from the driver's seat.
My eyes narrow, taking him in. He's on the shorter side—maybe five-feet six-inches, wearing black pants and a black shirt.
His hair is almost buzzed, looking light in the grainy photo.
The trunk of the SUV pops open, and he removes two suitcases and then stands beside the passenger's side door.
"Fuck," I grunt, clicking a few times until I find a second camera to give me a better angle of the two of them.
The passenger door swings open, and a woman emerges with long, dark hair. Her eyes immediately drop to the ground as she grabs her suitcase and walks behind the man, straight into the lobby of the hotel.
My heart pounds as I hit the keys, breaking into the hotel's camera system.
My mouth goes dry when the lobby of the hotel comes into view, and the two of them hang by the front desk, getting their keys.
The woman nervously looks around the lobby, licking her lips and checking over her shoulder.
There's a nervous tilt to her as her breaths come in heavily, heaving her chest.
Tears burn the back of my eyes the moment she lifts her head, exposing the marks on her face. The mark on her throat. The things that weren't there before. No.