6. Cairo
SIX
cairo
“Are you fuckin’ insane ? You sent evidence . Fucking evidence of you murdering her. Are you a goddamn noob? What kind of stupid-ass, dumbass, bullshit are you on right now, Bay?”
With a knee pulled up into her chest, she casually sits on the hood of a van. A lit blunt between her black-painted fingernails as Juice leans up along the front end like a silent emotional support piece.
Or if shit goes sideways.
Her chin is lifted while Hot Rod continues to rant, but there is zero remorse written on her face.
I don’t know what happened, but she just peppered six bullets into that blonde friend of hers.
The one who’s currently dead as fuck in the middle of some random parking lot.
“Do you know what you’ve just fuckin’ done ?” Hot Rod carps out, his body rigid as he continues to work his way into popping the blood vessel bulging at his forehead. “You sent the fuckin’ photo to the motherfucker trying to get us all killed !”
Wait, what?
Mindlessly, I step forward and pluck the cell phone clutched in Hot Rod’s palm and power on the screen like it’s my right.
And low and behold, it’s a candid shot of the Nessa chick dead as a damn doornail.
With her brown eyes open.
To say I was fully cognizant of the shitshow that would ensue when Bay left the house is far from an understatement now. The absolute last thing I would’ve put money on was the little raven-haired troublemaker killing someone tonight.
Her friend, of all fucking people.
Then having the mind to snap a damn picture and send it to?—
“Where did you send this shit to, Little T?” I solicit evenly because the phone number is just a number with no name attached.
“And are you not fucking capable of watching one woman?” I blink and pull a seething Hot Rod into my view. His hazel eyes bore straight into me. He wasn’t this close a few seconds ago, and now he’s within stabbing distance. “Do you need us to do it for you? Because, stupidly enough, Wallace believed you had some fucking idea of what you’re doing. Hence why you’re in South Shore without a knife inserted in your chest.”
I think this motherfucker’s temporary power has gone straight to his head.
He’s got me fucked up if he believes he’s going to talk to me like this. I’m already positioned to take his fuckin’ ass down within the next second without lifting a finger.
Especially if he doesn’t get the hell out of my fucking face.
“You’ve got five seconds,” I reply calmly, not moving an inch nor sparing another blink at the Hulk of a dude Levi calls his right-hand man. “And if you’re still breathing on me, I’m gonna find a hole right next to that blonde bitch you call a friend and burn you alive in it.”
The asshole progresses forward to hit me—I guess—before Juice shows up, mom-arming him to a halt.
Good idea.
“Now, now,” Juice quips with two hard pats to Rod’s wide chest. “We’re not gonna do all that.” His eyes flick up to where Bay’s ass is still parked, hitting the blunt Juice gave her minutes ago with nonchalance. “I think we have bigger problems on our hands.”
Yeah, my problem.
After their previous display of pampering and obviously permitting her to traipse around without any discipline, this is what happens.
Those fucking days are over.
“Where did this photo go?” I ask again, shoving the phone into Hot Rod’s chest because I don’t give a flying shit where his emotions are at. Mine are heightened and rattled. I’ve never felt fear the way I did when Oz told me she was gone.
“De Leon,” Juice answers carefully, as if he was the one who did it. “Our little princess had a point to prove.”
For the love of God…for fucking what now?
Besides the obvious drive-by, what the hell does the blonde have to do with anything?
I’ll get those answers, but I don’t have time to obtain them and bitch. There’s a dead body lying in the middle of this abandoned parking lot, and with my luck a pig is going to stroll by to see what’s up.
“Oz,” I call out, shoving back my personal issues of Bay’s psychotic aside because I’m already dealing with several others here. “Get her home.”
“Where’s Levi?”
All three pairs of eyes descend on Bay except mine.
I can’t look at her.
Not when I’m this pissed off, and she might see how hurt I am. I thought we had somewhat of an understanding between the two of us. Bay gave herself to me, which, clearly, she’s quickly forgotten.
If that doesn’t piss me the fuck off, I’m not sure what else does, besides her sneaking out of the house and, of course, going on a killing spree.
“She’s coming with us,” Hot Rod starts for her, but then Ozzy takes it upon himself to step out and block his path. “Move, Mute. ”
My brother remains still, and that’s when Hot Rod’s arm shoots out to shove him backward. My boy stumbles once but regains his balance, and when Hot Rod goes to do it again, I pipe in.
“Touch her, and he’ll kill you,” I promise, throwing my attention to Juice, even though it wasn’t meant for him. What is, though, is that he better get his dude in line or there’s gonna be more blood spilled tonight. “You make the call. But I warn you, if she hurts herself because you two morons don’t want to comment on what the fuck is going on here, you all won’t be seeing tomorrow.”
“Juice.” Bay slides off the hood, her broken voice permeating through the space, but I still don’t spare her a glance.
I’m livid.
I’m so fucking pissed I can barely stand the hell still with the red-hot fury coursing through my veins.
I can’t remember a time I was this heated. When I would throw all caution to the wind and start making more enemies right here and now.
However, I don’t miss the desperation in her tone, and I can’t help but feel empathetic toward it.
Yet, days ago, I stated she could be pregnant and, instead, she picked up Muncy’s son and ran around town like she solely owns the fucking place.
She does.
She’ll be Queen of The Landings now.
Where we’re currently standing.
“Please.” I hear the unsteadiness of her voice. The way she’s holding in her fear like a fucking champ, but she’s breaking, and if I didn’t know her so well, I’d maybe miss it. “I need him.”
I hate and love that she said that.
Hate it because it’s fucking Levi Wallace, and we don’t get along well.
And love it because she’s loyal to a fault.
Just not to me.
I apparently haven’t earned the right because I wasn’t skipping around with her in diapers or some shit like Wallace. I don’t charm her with blonde hair and silly, stupid things that come naturally to Reeve. I can’t get on her level of petty like Torin can. And I’m not Ozzy, who somehow sinks under your skin without doing much at all.
“Fuckin’ A,” Juice mutters under his breath, pulling her gently into his arms. “Don’t cry, Bay. I know it hurts… It hurts like a bitch. But we’ll let you do whatever you want, okay? Funeral, a race, anything.”
My head immediately snaps over to him. Realization of his words playing out at rapid speed. “What the fuck did you just say?”
I earn Hot Rod’s hard stare. They still wanted to keep it low-key to be sure Wallace has the peace and medical assistance he needs, I get that.
Regardless, I’m answered by silence, causing my fingers to flex with impatience. I wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of this WWE-looking motherfucker who’s nicknamed after a car.
“Because Ozzy is just dying to spill some blood if she puts me through any more fucking grief,” I add confidently. “I’m about done with this secretive shit.”
Another heavy silence falls between us all and I think it answers the question. They’re afraid she’s going to coddle him and, therefore, keep Levi subconsciously worried when he hears her voice.
And maybe they’re not wrong.
However, if he can perceive such a feat, I believe he’d be thinking how she’s handling it over anything else.
“Wallace is fucking dead.”
The words don’t register right away, but Bay’s sob does.
I finally glance down at her, with her chin tucked tightly to her chest. Black hair hides her face, and my heart promptly sinks.
For her.
Ozzy shifts out of my periphery, but he doesn’t move an inch, leaving me to pick up the pieces starting to fall right in front of us.
Our eyes meet, and I don’t know what to do or how to comfort her with something as monumental as this. I don’t dare touch her because she’s not that sort of bitch, but I want to.
Fuck.
This changes everything.
She just lost her dad weeks ago. Now, she just lost her so-called ride-or-die. Her best friend. The man she somehow has grown attached to.
I’m not just dealing with a grieving Bay Astor now—no, that shit won’t register right away. I’m working with a woman who’s about to go on a rampage of sheer catastrophe when this shit sinks deeper inside her head.
I’m dealing with a ticking time bomb.
She’ll want De Leon’s head on a spike. She’ll rip his town apart just to get to him. And there is no doubt in my mind Bay will be the biggest pain in my whole fucking ass with keeping her confined and safe.
And the fucked up part is, I’ll deal with it.
I will handle her shit while she drives me fucking crazy. I will stand by her side and make all her dark dreams come true.
Her pussy is magic. And you just fell into her spell.
“C’mon, Little T,” I urge softly, reaching out and barely grazing her back. “Let’s get you home.”
“I c-can’t,” she blubbers, head still tipped downward into Juice’s chest. “M-my s-sisters.”
My eyes close for the briefest of seconds.
It’s just another nail to De Leon’s coffin.
Now, she has to take care of them alone. She has to go through the motions of Wallace’s death with them and try to deal.
I steal a second glance at Ozzy, who looks beside himself to the max. This is all going to fall on me.
I don’t mind it. I’m used to it, but not this.
Not her.
“Okay.” My fingers wrap around her hip, and she doesn’t flinch or thrust her elbow into my gut when I draw her closer, so I take it as a win. “How about we go for a little ride and get some fresh air? Let’s get you out of here.”
She rocks her head back and forth, chin still tucked with another broken sob. “I can’t…”
Moving to step in front of her, I don’t bring her face up to meet mine. She needs a bit of privacy and the last thing she wants from me is to see her cry.
“This is going to be a bitch. I know that.”
A broken whimper leaves her lips, and fuck…I hate this. I grew up with sisters and still struggling with what to do.
“We’re not leaving your side. You’re not going to do this alone. What do you want to do?”
Silence ping-pongs between us, and I don’t have a lot of time to sort this all out with her. We’re still in the middle of a wide-open parking lot and there are too many eyes. We need to get the blonde chick out of here.
“I wanna die.”
What the fuck…
Her morbid comment rocks my entire world.
I know she doesn’t mean it. She can’t. She has her sisters.
She’s off-kilter.
Bay just shot a girl to death, one who used to be a friend, and I’m still unaware of why or what happened. She’s getting involved in situations she shouldn’t be in, but she’s quick to react.
And it’s both a good and bad thing.
“I’m not gonna allow that, Little T,” I mutter, my voice a bit frazzled and concerned. “You can’t leave me.”
Another wrecked weeping sound leaves her body, and I grab her head, steering her into my chest before wrapping my arms around her frame.
“C’mon, baby…he’s not gonna want you to cry. He wouldn’t want you to be like this.”
“I love him,” she wails into my sternum, tightly clenching the fabric of my tee. “I’m…n—never gonna…get him back. He’s…gone. I…never…got to say…goodbye…”
My palm wraps tighter around the back of her skull, and I feel everyone’s focus on us. How we are together. How much I’d give anything to take this pain away.
“I know,” I coo, softly brushing at her dark hair. “I’m sorry, Bay. I wish I… I don’t want you to suffer like this.”
Looking over to Ozzy, I jerk my head for him to come closer. He does, silent as the dead, and the fucked-up analogy isn’t lost on me. He wants to hold her like I am, but it’s his past fears freezing him to his spot.
“We need to get rid of this body,” I say to no one in particular. “I know a place.” Oz gives me a nod, and I press my cheek against the top of Bay’s head and inhale a deep breath. “I gotta go, Little T. I need to go handle—” Her fingers wrap tightly around my shirt as she buries her face deeper in my chest, cutting off my words entirely.
I want to stay with her.
I’m fully aware she needs the comfort, but I don’t want her to see me bury a body. How I’m literally going to toss a woman into a shallow grave and quickly cover it.
“Can you go with Ozzy?”
It takes a couple of seconds before Bay is bobbing her head and attempting to pry away from me, but I cup her face in both my hands and tilt it up to look at me.
Those blue eyes are stacked with sorrow. I’ve never seen her look so fucking lost and broken since I’ve known her.
She’ll get through this .
She has no other choice. Nonetheless, it doesn’t make it suck any less.
“He doesn’t live past this week,” I promise. “You have my word, Little Terror. He’s dead.”
Something passes across her features I can’t read, and I desperately want to know what it is.
But here and now, when I have blood spilled yards away and the prospect of being caught at a murder scene is high, I don’t have time to console her how I wish to.
With one brush to her tear-stained cheeks, I shove away my desire to comfort her some more and glance up at my right-hand man. “She doesn’t leave your sight, Oz. And take Muncy’s son home, too.”
“No.”
I’m immediately taken aback by his blunt response. The thought of what his fucking problem is with Muncy’s kid—the fucking twat doesn’t do anything.
“Do I look like I’m in the mood for your bullshit?” I solicit with a bite to my tone. “C’mon, dude…”
Ozzy stares back at me placidly. Apparently, another issue I’ll have to handle later.
Bay steps out of my hold then, turning her attention to Hot Rod and Juice, and I feel as worthless now as I ever have with her. “Come to the house tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
“You got it, Bay,” Juice replies. “Try to rest.”
Her body tenses, but she doesn’t say any more, ambling around the Honda as she calls out for Travis to follow. He hasn’t uttered a peep since we showed up, nor did he come over to join the conversation.
I guess for him, the less he knows, the better.
But he still faithfully follows her to the van.
And so does Ozzy.
“Oz.” He tenses, but stops, glimpsing over his shoulder at me. “ Chill .”
A small glower illuminates his face, but he doesn’t take the time Torin or Reeve would to throw a retort at me to go fuck myself.
Instead, he has other priorities to handle.
His wife .