Chapter Eighteen
R eaching the dance floor, Crow drew Rebel into his arms.
Wouldn’t you know it? A slow song was playing and he wrapped Rebel up tight as the pulsing beat of Always Remember Us This Way , by Lady Gaga thrummed through the speakers.
Rebel pulled back just enough to gaze up in his eyes, and Crow saw the man’s lips move. He dipped his head to listen and Rebel started singing the song, Crow’s throat tightened. Every time we say goodbye, baby, it hurts. Rebel pulled his head down and put his mouth against his ear and sang… When you look at me and the whole world fades, I’ll always remember you this way.
Damn it, Crow swallowed around a knot. Had he really fallen so fast? Or was this just a spur-of-the-moment thing?
The slender man melted against him and Crow wrapped him up tight. Sweet hell and all that was holy, he wanted Rebel. He wanted the young man like he’d never wanted anyone before.
But they had a fucking job to do and an abused and underaged girl needed rescuing, so all that would have to wait.
When the last of the song faded, Crow drew Rebel to the stairs and upward to the upper level. Rebel took over at that point, holding his hand and walking toward Jimmy’s booth.
Eight men stood guarding and two stepped up as they approached.
Rebel stopped and gazed at Jimmy, who nodded after a moment.
“Let them through,” Jimmy said, lifting a hand.
“Hey, Jimmy, this is Crow. He does what I do.” Rebel waved his free hand to indicate Crow and then tucked it into his pants pocket.
“Is that right?” Jimmy looked at their linked fingers and lifted one eyebrow.
“Well, he’s also my boyfriend, but yeah.”
At Crow’s urging, Rebel slid into the booth opposite Jimmy, and Crow crowded in next to him.
“I’m not taking on any new hires.”
Crow held the guy’s eyes across the table.
Jimmy Lincoln was pissed and Crow knew immediately why. It was written on the man’s face. The ticking of the guy’s jaw at their held hands, and when Crow slid his arm around Rebel’s shoulder, he thought the man would blow a fucking gasket.
“Go get me a drink, Rebel,” Jimmy said, the order was clear in the man’s smooth tone of voice. The threat was also clear and Crow squinted.
Rebel smiled, and when Crow scooted out to let him out of the booth, Rebel headed to the bar that was two deep with customers.
As he sat back down, Jimmy stared at him with ice in his eyes and Crow smirked. As if that would intimidate him? Jimmy sure did have a lot of muscle with him—men smartly dressed in black suits and white shirts, with hands held at the ready. No dark glasses though, that would have been overkill in the nightclub.
“Let me be frank, here,” Jimmy said, as if talking to a toddler.
“By all means.” Crow sat back and crossed one leg over the other. He was glad he’d chosen to wear his tailored Havana suit in midnight black. While it was nothing compared to the Kiton in his closet back home, it was pricey. Jimmy ran his eyes over his suit and his relaxed poise.
“Do you think you can come in here and take what’s mine?”
Crow studied Jimmy. The words were measured and spoken with a low, hard tone. Each one was filled with an entitlement as if the guy owned the fucking city and the people in it.
The man irritated the fuck out of him.
“May I be frank?” Crow said, volleying the words back.
A muscle ticked in Jimmy’s jaw and his hands moved from where they rested on the table. Crow suspected Jimmy had a weapon out of sight.
It wouldn’t matter what kind of weapon was hidden beneath the table, the guy was too close.
And up this close?
Well, Crow could eat the fucker for a snack.
Jimmy seemed to weigh his options and come to the same conclusion. When the man nodded, Crow continued.
“First, Rebel isn’t an object you own, and second…yes, I can.”
It took a moment for the words to register—and by the time Jimmy realized that Crow had just told him he could take anything he wanted from him—Rebel returned.
“Man, oh man, that line was long.” Rebel placed the drink in front of Jimmy and handed him a water.
Never taking his eyes off Jimmy, Crow stood to let Rebel back in the booth, then eased back down.
Crow twisted off the cap and took a swallow. Jimmy hadn’t looked away from him and Crow smirked and placed the bottle on the table.
A weird light filled Jimmy’s eyes and the man’s lips suddenly curved upward.
A sudden knot grew in Crow’s gut.
“I need you home tonight,” Jimmy said, turning his attention to Rebel.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Rebel said as if it were no big deal.
Crow wanted to shoot Jimmy in the head.
“In fact, you can leave with me when I go home,” Jimmy said.
There was only a moment of hesitation on Rebel’s part, but it gave Crow comfort that Rebel didn’t want to leave him, and that was enough to have Crow sliding his arm around Rebel’s shoulders.
“No problem,” Rebel said, as if they were having an everyday conversation.
Crow’s hand tightened on Rebel’s shoulder, his fingers biting onto the man’s muscle. Rebel turned his head slowly and gazed at him.
Then winked.
From the way Rebel was facing him, Jimmy wouldn’t see the wink at all.
But Crow did and it took the wind out of his sudden uncontrollable anger.
Stick to the plan , Crow silently told himself.
They knew this could go either of two ways. The first was that Jimmy would say yes to hiring him and Crow could take the guy out behind his own walls. The second was that Jimmy would say no, which he had.
That meant that Rebel needed to get Angel to the gardens and Crow would get them both out of there.
“Did you see Mitch down there?” Jimmy asked Rebel.
“I did, but he got a phone call and had to leave,” Rebel said.
“I see.”
Crow wasn’t sure that Jimmy bought it, but he didn’t say otherwise and after a few more minutes of small talk, Jimmy announced that they were leaving.
It was all Crow could do to slide his arm away from Rebel’s shoulders.
“I’ll call you,” Rebel said, sliding out of the booth before turning to kiss him on the lips.
Rebel walked away with the group of men and Jimmy put his arm around Rebel’s shoulders.
At that moment, Crow vowed that Jimmy’s days were numbered.
The next morning around 6 AM, Crow paced through the room at the hotel, waiting for Real to call him back.
About an hour ago, Real sent a text message that said he had news on Jimmy Lincoln. When the phone rang, Crow snatched it from the hotel table.
“Did you find out who he is?”
“Yeah…now tell me how the hell you got tangled up with James Lincoln,” Real said, his voice a low growl coming from the phone.
“Rebel went to work as a gun for hire for the guy.”
“Fuck.”
Well, that didn’t sound good, but Crow waited. Real couldn’t be rushed, especially if he was thinking over the information.
“James Lincoln, also known as Jimmy has ties to the Russian mob out of Moscow. He reports to Slavic Balagula who is a descendant of Aslan Balagula.”
That got Crow’s attention. The Notorious Criminal Kingpin, Aslan Balagula, had been shot dead in Moscow in 2010. Who knew the guy had a son? Or maybe it was a grandson. Crow didn’t really give a fuck.
“Okay, so this Slavic is Lincoln’s boss?”
“Yes,” Real said and his sigh sounded pained.
“So the fuck what? The guy is over here on US soil selling drugs and raping minors.”
“True.”
“Listen…I know we have political bullshit we have to deal with, but everyone bleeds the same color blood,” Crow said.
Real gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, and after a small moment, the man continued.
“There is word on the streets that Slavic Balagula’s main man from down south is missing. Did you have anything to do with that?” Real asked.
“Mitch Fallen?” Crow asked.
“That’s the one,” Real said.
“I did.”
“Is he alive?”
“No, he’s not,” Crow said and filled in Real about Jose Garcia and the idea that it might be seen as a gang hit.
The sound of ice clinking came through the phone as Real took a swallow of something and then cleared his throat.
“This guy Lincoln is not to be underestimated. He’s got some serious manpower and some deep pockets backing him.”
“What I don’t understand is why don’t they just eliminate this shit and clear them out?”
“This goes deeper than that. The narrative around drug enforcement has changed with the legalization of marijuana and certain substances.”
“I get that, but organized crime, overdose deaths, and black markets are on the rise. So, legalizing that shit didn’t make a bit of difference,” Crow said.
“It was naive to think it would,” Real said in agreement. “Organized crime is deeply entrenched in drug distribution and human trafficking and getting evidence to take down the biggies is almost impossible.”
Crow walked to the window overlooking the city of Los Angeles.
“So, what you’re saying is that taking out the head of the snake wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.”
“Maybe for a day or two,” Real said.
“Fuck.”
“Listen…let me talk to Rebel. I’ll convince him to come back here. Later we can take a crack at bringing Lincoln down.”
“Um…Rebel’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“With Lincoln.”
“Why?”
Crow told Real about Rebel’s plan to rescue an Angel.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Real said.
“Yeah,” Crow said with a smile.
Because they both knew that Rebel was indeed worth saving.