21. Nolan
21
NOLAN
G io gets his way. I don’t know how the bastard manages it, but something about a wish and a genie, and Juliet’s face goes slack with shock. She then flips him the bird, calls him an asshole, and storms into the room I relegated as hers. Gio grins and follows her there, swiping up his backpack and shutting the door behind him as he goes.
An hour later, the door remains closed and he hasn’t been kicked out, so I suppose he won this round with the Princess. Lex and I toss our own bags into the spare room and then take turns passing the remote back and forth. When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I know the downtime is up.
DARRIO: Meeting set.
I grit my teeth, but in the next instant a set of instructions comes through along with a location.
“Time to go?” Lex guesses. I nod my answer and instead of calling out and alerting Juliet to our departure, I text G and let him know that we’re heading out to take care of business. Hopefully it won’t take the whole damn night to meet with Darrio’s contact.
Lex grabs his keys and together the two of us head back the way we came. As we leave out the same side door we entered, I double check my earlier messages to see that Zeke had, in fact, sent me the code to get back in. I reply with my thanks and then forward the information to all of the guys’ phones. Since there’s no way in hell I’ll be letting Juliet out of our sight for the weekend we’re here, she won’t need it.
Lex drives for a while, leaving behind the glittering rich neighborhoods and shop fronts of Eastpoint and rolling into the part of the city that’s far less dazzling. Everywhere has one, even Eastpoint. When the street lights grow less frequent and there are a few burnt out, I know we’re almost there. Afternoon has turned to twilight by the time we turn onto the street from Darrio’s coordinates.
The contact waits outside an industrial building with cracked windows and a massive rolling garage door that’s closed and spray-painted in graffiti. Lex tenses when he spies the man in a dark jacket and a baseball cap waiting for us. His eyes flick to me and though he puts the SUV in park, he doesn’t get out.
“You’re not coming,” I say before he can insist.
Smoke-gray eyes shoot to my face and his brow creases as he scowls. “You need backup,” he snaps. “This fucker is working for Darrio, we can’t trust him.”
“We’re working for Darrio,” I remind him, though I hate to say the words. They roll off my tongue like acid coated bullets. I already don’t like being here for Darrio. Eastpoint was supposed to be our escape, but if Darrio gets his greedy, cocaine smeared fingers this far north, we may never be able to get away from him. Not unless we finish the job in a way that will clear all of us of potential consequences.
Lex stares past me for a long moment, eyes scanning the perimeter. “I don’t like this.”
Neither do I, but we don’t have a choice. I reach into the glove compartment and pull free the gun we keep there. Checking the clip to make sure it’s loaded, I lean forward and slide it into the top of my jeans before lifting my shirt to cover it—even though I’m sure the guy I’m meeting knows we’re going to be packing. Visual weapons always make people do stupid shit. As if the very fact that they can see is a threat, and I don’t want to threaten Darrio’s contact, not yet.
“If I’m not out in thirty, you can come after me,” I tell him. “But do not enter that fucking building until then.”
One hand grips the steering wheel, knuckles bone white. “Thirty. Minutes.” He repeats both words through clenched teeth, and I’m out of the car before he can change his mind and think to come after me.
Ducking my head and flipping up the hood on my jacket, I march across the grass and gravel between the SUV and the man. He eyes me as I approach but otherwise doesn’t move.
“You Darrio’s boy?” he demands.
I have to bite back the urge to slam my fist into his face at the indication that I’m Darrio’s anything . I just jerk my chin in an affirmative and ask my own question. “You his contact?”
Instead of answering me, the man simply jerks his thumb over his shoulder to the warehouse and turns. “Follow me.”
Casting a look over my shoulder at where Lex sits in the darkened SUV, I do. The entire time I trail the man, I contemplate how I can fuck this meeting up just enough to ensure that whoever this man is won’t work with Darrio again, but also not get my ass killed. The gun against the base of my spine is a small comfort, but at least it’s there.
The inside of the warehouse is just as dusty and musty as the outside. Wide, cold, and nearly empty save for the stacks of boxes and pallets covered in thin plastic sheets that are so gray with age they’re opaque. My heart rate kicks up a notch as the stranger comes to a stop near a row of… I stop next to him, my eyes widening.
“Are these…”
“Yup.” He slaps a hand down on the first one, the wood echoing with the smack.
Coffins. Fucking coffins. At least half a dozen of them lined up in various sizes and shades of brown. “There’s a series of funeral homes between here and Silverwood,” the man says. “Fronts, of course.”
Sickness churns in my gut, but the irony almost makes me bark out a laugh. Coffins. They’re smuggling weapons and drugs inside coffins and funeral homes. There can’t be a bigger universal sign.
My head sinks back on my shoulders and I stare up at the rafters for a beat. When no plan for an out comes to me, I grit my teeth and meet the man’s gaze.
“What do you need from us?” I ask.
The man continues to eye me, and for some reason, I’m starting to think he looks almost familiar. I frown at him, but before I can figure it out, he gestures to the lid of the one he slapped.
“Open it,” he orders.
“What?” I stiffen and take an almost instinctive step back, away from the coffins. I’m not a religious man, never have been, but the idea of opening that lid makes my insides tight with disgust.
“Open it.” He repeats the words in a harder tone. “I want to know that you can stomach what this is before we move forward.”
“Are there actual fucking bodies in this?” I demand. The disgust I felt before rolls through me in heavier waves.
I’ve killed before and I’ll kill again. That is a fact I’ve come to live with. The people I kill, though? They deserve it. I always have a reason. All that bullshit about how murder is wrong and justice is letting the authorities deal with the bad guys was something I’d stopped believing in long ago. There are just some people in this world that are too good at hiding what they are. Those are the people I not only want to kill, but I enjoy killing.
“Open it and find out.” The man shuffles back a step and then reaches behind himself, withdrawing a gun—likely stashed in the same place as mine. He doesn’t mention it, but my mental point is made. The very visual of his weapon is a threat. One I do not appreciate.
“Don’t make a mistake here, man,” I warn him. “You won’t like what happens.” I won’t go down easy, if I ever do. Even then, though, I know that Lex will avenge me. He and Gio will strip this motherfucker’s hide from his bones and string him up by his intestines.
There was a man that raped one of the daughters of Darrio’s friends. He sent us after the fucker and it was perhaps the only job I did for him so gleefully. The three of us had kept him alive for days. Pulled out each of his teeth one by one, then his nails. We’d shoved a taser up his ass and watched him scream, writhe, and piss himself before passing out. Every single cut felt good.
This, though? I really don’t want to open that coffin to find an old man with no connection to the darker side of life or worse, a young girl. My eyes skim over the top of the coffins before moving back to the man.
He smirks at me, amusement clear in the glitter of his eyes as he leans his head back. “Just open it, kid.”
I almost snarl at him at that last word. Almost. Instead, I turn towards the coffin and suck back a breath. Maybe, when this is all over, I can come back and kill this fucker too.
I unlatch the coffin and swing it open. A slow exhalation escapes me. Never thought I’d be so relieved to see so many packs of white powder, but I am. Grabbing one, I heft it in my fist as the man behind me lets loose a chuckle. When I turn back around and drop the bag of cocaine into the coffin’s bed, he’s put his gun away and is grinning my way.
“You should’ve seen your face, kid.” He chortles.
“I expected something more fucked up,” I admit. Like these bags of cocaine either shoved inside the asses of corpses or sewn in their guts instead of just sitting loose.
The man waves a hand, knocking back his cap a bit so that I can see his face more clearly. That initial zap of recognition hits me. I’ve seen him before. I know I have, but I have no clue where .
Shaking his head, the man strides forward and shuts the coffin. “We need three drivers minimum,” he says, launching into the demands that I’m actually here for. What his expectations are of the Vargas gang and what the cut will be.
I listen, one hand still lingering over the coffin I’d opened. Death in a coffin, just not in the way people expect. It’s so damn fitting. That sick feeling in my gut clings to me like tar as we finish the meeting and I leave the building.
Before I begin my jog across the street to where Lex’s SUV sits, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it free, I frown at the unknown number and press the red button, assuming a spam call, and head towards the idling vehicle. The passenger door is unlocked as I hop in. Lex is in much the same position, his eyes full of a cold glittering rage. I sigh.
“It went fine,” I say. “Darrio has the job so long as he can provide the bodies and money.”
“You mean so long as we can,” Lex bites out. He cranks the engine and heat washes into the interior of the cab.
I crank my head back, staring at the ceiling of the SUV as he drives on. Twilight is quickly turning to night. I don’t respond to his words, though we both know the truth. If we don’t figure out how to get out of Darrio’s clutches and get rid of him before we graduate, we might never find our freedom.
* * *
Lex pulls up outside of Hellfire and cuts the engine. The lights are on, the music thumping from inside. Around the front of the flat brick building is a line of scantily clad girls with their hair done up, their makeup painted on, and their skirts nearly up to their pussies.
I linger back as my phone buzzes again—that same damn number. “You good?” Lex pauses and glances back.
I wave him off. “Take the side entrance,” I say, “I’ll be there in a sec. Go check on our girl.”
Our girl. When did Juliet become that? The phone in my hand vibrates for a third time as if reminding me that I have other matters to deal with before I allow myself to think more on the one woman that seems to have all of us up in knots for her.
If only she were just some good pussy, but she’s not. She’s the one Lex has been obsessed with for years. She’s the one we shouldn’t want anything to do with—and that’s the problem. Darrio doesn’t hate her so much as he resents all that she symbolizes. Both he and Savino have been on my ass to cut her loose, but I can’t do that. Not until we know who’s after her and not until whatever this thing between her and us has run its course.
I answer the phone. “I don’t know how you got this number, but if you call me one more time, asshole, you’ll regret it.” The words come out just as sharply as I intend. The pause on the other end is brief and followed by a masculine chuckle.
“I would love to see how you would make me regret my actions, Mr. Pierce.”
Scowling, I try to attach a face to the voice I only dimly recognize. It’s deep, older, and somewhat gruff.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“A friend, Nolan.” This time, the man doesn’t use my last name, but my first. “But let’s not waste time on pleasantries, we’ve already done that.”
We have? As the man speaks, I’m rifling through my memories, picking up and discarding potential names to go along with his words and the subconscious facts I’m picking up. He knows my name—first and last. He has my number. He’s older, for sure. His voice is far past the crackle of adolescence and he sounds confident.
“Let me try another question then,” I say. “What do you want?”
The stranger hums, the sound vibrating over the line as I lean back on my heels and stare across the lot to where Lex has disappeared around the corner towards the side entrance we’d used to get in earlier.
“Not ‘How did you get this number?’” he asks. “I’m surprised.”
“Congratu-fucking-lations,” I snap. “Are you going to answer or am I hanging up?”
“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” the man replies. “Or is that not the motto of life you and your friends subscribe to?”
My friends. There’s not a question as to who those “friends” of mine are, and the fact that he mentioned them only tells me that he’s offering me the thinnest of threats. I push away from Lex’s SUV and stalk across the parking lot.
“If you?—”
“Stop.” The man’s voice no longer comes across the line, but closer, and my body immediately follows the command. The phone hangs limply between my hand and ear.
The memory comes back, sparkling clear, and I curse myself for how long it’d taken me to realize who he is. When I turn to face him, lowering my phone and hanging up the now useless call as I do, I spy the man from Ma-Ri’s club. Tall, broad, and dressed in a suit that blends into the darkness of night.
Mitchell Vikson.
He strides towards me, and as he does, I watch him slip his own phone into the pocket of his perfectly pressed slacks. I narrow my eyes but don’t back down as he approaches.
“Let’s have a talk, Nolan.”
His words brook no argument, yet I find myself glaring up at him and daring him silently to force the issue. Vikson, to my surprise, doesn’t get angry at my obvious defiance. After working for Darrio Vargas for the last several years and being raised in a place like Silverwood where any man with a sliver of power expects automatic respect, his amusement at my contempt is confusing.
Vikson blows out a slow breath. “I’m not here to hurt you or threaten Lex and his friends.”
“Don’t say his name.” The words escape me before I can call them back. Inside, my logical mind is warring with protective instincts that I haven’t needed to use in a long damn time. Lex is more than capable of taking care of himself. Hell, I trust him to watch my back, but this man wants something from him and it pisses me off that I still haven’t discovered what that is.
Vikson arches one dark slash of an eyebrow. “Is that really where you want to draw the line?”
I scowl. “You don’t know him,” I snap back. “You don’t get to talk like you understand him or us for that matter.”
“Fair enough, but you should know.” Vikson stuffs both of his hands into the pockets of his slacks. A casual way to make himself appear more friendly and not nearly as much of a danger as he actually is. It’s a lie. “I’m not going away. It’s important that I talk to him.”
“And why is that?” I shift on the balls of my feet, turning slightly, not to flee, but to prepare in case this man has any intention of attacking. I’ve seen his type before—watched them go from smiling, laughing regular joe men to unhinged street brawlers. There is nothing this man could say that would give me adequate reason as to why he wants contact with Lex.
Vikson’s lips curve as if he can read my mind and knows what I’m thinking. His next words prove that I can still be so very fucking wrong.
“Because Alexio Medicci is my nephew.”
There’s fucked up and then there’s fucked beyond all recognition. The difference between the two is that the first can be fixed, adjusted, somehow overcome. It might take getting some blood on your hands, but in the end, it’s an obstacle to be conquered. The second, however, is far worse. Fucked beyond all recognition is the universe’s way of shoving you into an active volcano and laughing at your ass as you sink beneath the waves of lava and perish in a fiery pit of agony.
Mitchell Vikson’s appearance is firmly in that unfortunate second category.
“What the hell do you mean, he’s your nephew?” I demand, shaking my head. “His only family is?—”
“Gemma Watson?” Vikson asks with a sympathetic pucker to his brow. It makes me want to punch him. He blows out a breath when I go quiet. “My father was like a lot of them in Silverwood,” he goes on. “Fucked out and had multiple kids by multiple women. It might be more accurate to say that Alexio Medicci is the son of my half-sister. We weren’t raised together and we had nothing to do with each other while growing up.”
“Okay.” I stare at him. “Then why the fuck are you here now? Why do you want anything to do with Lex now?” I clench my hands into fists and repress my final question: Why are you coming to me instead of him?
I’m sure he can read the silent inquiry on my face, but he doesn’t answer it. Not yet.
“It’s come to my attention that it’s his and his friends’ desire to attend Eastpoint,” he states. “I can make that happen.”
“Not out of some false sense of obligation.” My words are a statement, not a question.
“Not entirely,” Vikson agrees. “I’ve never been one for blood family. I left Silverwood a long time ago and made my own family and I don’t need another one.”
“Then why the fuck?—”
Vikson holds up his hand, stopping my tirade. I don’t know how he manages to make such a simple action so unyielding, but he does. It sets my teeth on edge. I risk a glance back to the club. The line hasn’t gone down any at all as more people have arrived and now wait outside to be let in. Beyond those doors and walls are two of the most important people in my life—three, including Juliet.
“I should clarify,” he states. “It’s not just Alexio Medicci that I’m interested in.” Gray eyes the same shade as Lex’s meet mine. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. “I’m also interested in the Scorpion.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins. “Excuse me?”
Not by the flicker of an eyelash or a twitch in his facial muscles does Vikson betray his thoughts. He merely holds my stare and repeats his words. “I’m interested in forming a connection with both my nephew and the Scorpion.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
One corner of the older man’s lips quirks up. “You do,” he says, his tone not the least bit annoyed by my lie. “But I understand why you still wish to protect him. Believe it or not, I’ve met quite a few boys like the three of you. The bonds that form in hardship are hard to break.”
An old saying comes to mind at his words. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. I can almost see it in his eyes that he knows that too. Whatever this man wants from Lex, it’s clear he’s serious about his intentions.
“I applaud your loyalty, Nolan Pierce,” Vikson says. “But there will come a time when you realize your loyalty cannot fix every problem. The Scorpion would be highly valued at Eastpoint and so would you.” He says nothing of Juliet or Gio, but I don’t comment. I keep silent, well aware that whatever time limit he’s set on this meeting is drawing to a close.
“I won’t push for more tonight, but it’s my hope that by approaching you here you might be able to ease Alexio’s…” Vikson drifts off for a moment, his expression creasing with contemplation, and it isn’t until he continues that I realize he’d been looking for the right phrasing. “Resistance to having me in his life.”
“Lex isn’t a commodity,” I tell him. “I can’t convince him of something if he doesn’t want to do it.”
Vikson’s smile is polite and sharp. The shadows peeking out from his sleeves and collar hide tattoos that only make me think of Lex all the more. Now that I know what this man is to him, I can see the resemblance beyond the eyes. They’re both massive beasts in size. Sharp, angular features. It might be easier to believe that they’re father and son rather than distant, half uncle and nephew.
Instead of responding to my statement, Vikson reaches into his pocket and withdraws a flat black card. His legs eat up the distance between us and my muscles go on lockdown a moment before he reaches me. He holds the card out.
“I’m sure you’ll try to get into Eastpoint under your own power, and I can’t say that it won’t happen,” he says. “But if you or Lex ever need a hand, Nolan, you should call me.”
I stare down at the card being held out to me. It’s not the first one. I take it anyway. If this man really is Lex’s uncle, then Lex needs to be the one to decide what to do with him or if we do anything about him to begin with.
“Don’t lose this one,” he says, smirking. As soon as the card is in my hand, he steps back and turns away. He gets about ten feet away and I’m still rooted to the ground, watching him go for a second time when he pauses and glances back at me over his shoulder.
“Oh, and one more thing—you can let Darrio Vargas know that the Eastpoint Heirs are on to his game.” My fingers tighten on the card in my hand. Darrio? This man knows about him too?
Not good. So not fucking good. Eastpoint is a different ballgame from Silverwood. I knew Darrio was an idiot for trying to come up here. I’d just hoped, though, that things would fall through over the next few months or that maybe this was all just the start of something that would be passed on when the guys and I left Silverwood. But if Vikson knows, and he knows about the Eastpoint Heirs—if he has connections to them as I suspect he does—then I was dumb as fuck for thinking I could play Darrio’s errand boy and disappear when I wanted.
“Unless…” Vikson hums again and stares at me thoughtfully. “If you wanted to get rid of Darrio, maybe you won’t tell him.” He doesn’t sound particularly mad about that possibility, but I’m coming to understand that this man keeps his emotions on lock. He doesn’t rage or beg or complain. He merely states facts and information and walks away to let the other party do what they will.
What does he think I’ll do?
“Have a good night, Nolan,” Vikson calls. “Tell Lex I said hello.”
As I stuff his damn card into my pocket, I contemplate his words as he disappears into the night. We have too much on our plate right now. With Lex looking into the Donovan case as well as the guys who jumped Gio, I’m not sure adding a newfound family member will do anything or send him into a spiral, and the last time he spiraled … I shudder to remember—it’d been three years ago and still, he never fucking told us what had set him off. It had taken the better part of two weeks to get him back onto a better sleep schedule and showing up to classes again.
The card burns a hole in my pocket as I turn and stride towards Hellfire . I can’t keep this information from him forever, but at least for now, I can hold on to it until he’s in a better place. It’s my responsibility, after all. I made the decision to kill, and they followed me into the dark and depraved violence that now taints our souls.
Their sins are mine and their pain is mine.