Chapter 18
CHERYL
Portia’s large dark eyes pin me when I enter the family room. “Did Daddy go to work?”
“No, he just had to run an errand.”
“Really?” Portia is perceptive as always, but even I didn’t believe my lie.
Jax and Samson meeting up here first thing in the morning instead of meeting at Wicked. The quick glances at his watch when Nick didn’t think I was looking.
Yeah, something is definitely going one, but I have a better chance of winning the lottery than getting any information out of Nick. Keeping things from me is his way of protecting me, but the not knowing is the worst part.
“Yes, he’ll be back soon.”
Although Frank wasn’t around when I was a child, I knew the life of a criminal firsthand.
Living by my wits since I can remember, just to survive and try to provide for myself and my addict mother.
She claimed she never told Frank he was my father to keep me safe, but even his mob world had to be safer than living in crack houses with strung-out junkies.
Portia’s savvy eyes narrow. “When?”
My smart, inquisitive child saw right through me.
My first time meeting Nick all those years ago was pure luck, or destiny, depending on how one looked at it. He was making collections for Frank’s organization, and I was waitressing in a club owned by the same organization. At the time, I didn’t know Frank was my father.
It didn’t take long for the sparks to fly, and when Nick and I got together, the combustible tension could light up a city block.
We burned everything in our path. I was the match, and he was the fire.
All gas and no brakes. Full speed ahead until we teetered on the edge, and it all came crashing down.
“He’ll be home for dinner,” I say with more determination than I feel as I sit next to her on the couch.
“Do you believe that?”
God, how I wanted to believe Nick’s words. For me and for Portia. Now more than ever, because it wasn’t just a dinner; it was hopefully a new beginning. With Nick not just living here, but actively participating every day.
“I do.” I force the conviction in my voice because, if I didn’t believe, how could I expect our child to believe?
The ten years Nick and I spent apart were the hardest ever. Not just raising Portia alone and trying to survive, but the emptiness, the loneliness numbing me from the inside out. Crazy how life twists and turns us around.
I stare at our beautiful tree and make a Christmas wish that tonight we would sit around the table like the family I always hoped for in my dreams.
NICK
After forty minutes, Python steers the Escalade off the road, onto a narrow paved road, which quickly becomes a dirt road lined with scrubby bushes, a few Joshua trees, and a boarded-up shack behind a huge rock formation.
The shack houses one of the Serpents’ many weed houses.
Although weed is legal in Nevada, it is much more profitable to sell it without all the checks and balances required by the government, including felons not being able to obtain a license.
Python pulls around the back of the shack, puts the SUV in park, and turns to me. “You ready to do this?”
I jerk my head, and we all pile out into the desert. The sun blazing down makes the stony flat ground shimmer. The glaring sun’s reflection in the distance gives the impression of a pool of water. One of the strange phenomenons of the desert.
Python and Mamba go to the rear of the SUV, flip open the hatch, and drag a disheveled Graham to a sitting position. Sweat beads on his pale, ashen face, and his clothes are rumpled and stained. Nothing like the slick player who entered our offices a week ago.
Mamba cuts the zip ties around his ankles and wrists, then drags him to a standing position. Graham bucks against his hold, but when Python flanks his other side, he stills, no match for either man. He chokes and tries to say something, but the gag won’t let him.
Mamba yanks the wadded-up cloth out of his mouth. “You got something to say, fucker?”
Graham spews a harsh cough. “You’ll never get away with this.”
Python barks out a cruel laugh. “Looks like we already did, asshole.” He waves his hand at us, then around the barren desert. “Ain’t nobody here gonna save your sorry ass.”
“Do you know who my father is? He has connections in California. Political connections.”
“We don’t give a shit about your father’s connections.” Python rests his hand on the hunting knife strapped to his hip. “This is the only connection I need.”
Graham’s eyes go wide at the size of the steely weapon.
I step forward. “You screwed with the wrong people this time, Pierce. You’re used to scaring people into doin’ what you want, but one thing you overlooked. You can’t scare outlaws, and you can’t scare people who got nothing to lose.”
“What do you think will happen when I disappear?” Graham tries to reason. “People will come look for me, and Vegas is the last place I’ve been. My staff knows I had meetings with you at Wicked.”
“Don’t mean shit,” Python barks. “We have enough connections in Vegas to make all their questions disappear.”
“How you wanna handle this?” Python asks me. “Cobra said we can take care of it ourselves if you don’t wanna get your hands dirty.”
Back in New York, this was all in a day’s work. No emotion, no discussion, just business, but Pierce went over the line when he threatened my family and my business.
Frank motions to Graham. “I just wanna make sure the job is done. I don’t give a shit who does it.”
I nod my agreement, and Python and Mamba frog-march him to the back of the shack with Frank and me following close behind.
“Wait, wait,” Graham yells when he eyeballs the shallow grave. He digs in his heels, but Mamba and Python push him forward till he’s teetering on the edge of the sandy hole.
Leave it to the Serpents to have everything ready. This wasn’t their first rodeo or their first shallow grave.
“You can’t do this.” Graham tries to backpedal, but his leather-sole shoes slip on the pebbled ground.
“Sure we can.” Mamba yanks him around. “We do it all the time.” Then he nods to Python. “Tell this bastard the best thing about a shallow grave.”
“Best thing about a shallow grave is when the coyotes come out at night, they don’t have to dig too deep for their dinner.” Python smirks. “And those mangy fuckers get real hungry at night. They like to tear into their dinner, leaving nothing behind.”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that’s the beauty part. They take care of any evidence,” Mamba adds with a laugh. “That is, if the cougars don’t find you first.”
“No, no, please,” Graham begs. “I’ll give you anything.”
“Amazing how you’re not so tough now. How all of a sudden you want to strike up a deal.” I shake my head in disgust. “Your buying people off days are over.”
“All your days are over, fucker.” Python pulls his gun out of the waist of his jeans.
The loose sand and shale shift under Graham’s feet. “Money, villas, yachts on the Mediterranean,” his words fall over each other, “I’ll give you any of it. All of it, just let me go.”
Mamba and Python exchange a look. “Now, what the fuck would we do with a yacht in the Mediterranean?” Mamba jerks his thumb at Python. “Don’t you know this fucker gets seasick?”
“Funny how a week ago you called all of us a bunch of dumb fucks.” I move closer to Graham. “What did you call us . . . uneducated morons? Yeah, I heard it all, but I guess we’re not so stupid after all.”
Graham zeroes in on me. “How did you . . . where did you hear me?”
“Bragging to all your stick-up-the-ass friends at a party at your mansion.”
“But you weren’t there. That party was in my Beverly Hills home, so how did you—”
All eyes turn to me, and I laugh it off.
“Guess you could say I saw it in a dream.” I move in front of Graham.
“You got a lot of people here who want to see you dead ‘cause you’ve done a lot of shitty things in the name of your business. From what I understand, you’ve been pulling shit like this for a while.
Your service isn’t promotion; it’s blackmail and extortion, but you fucked with the wrong people this time. ”
“You don’t understand,” Graham whines. “Sometimes I had to—”
“Had to threaten defenseless women. If you think I’d let what you did to Cheryl slide, then you’re fuckin’ crazy.” I throw Graham an evil smile. “Your biggest mistake was that you underestimated us, but that’s what happens when you’re out of your league.”
“I’ll renegotiate the deal on Wicked. Let you stay rent-free, give you my promotion service for free. Plus, I’ll throw in Cheryl’s business for free just to show you I meant no harm. Anything, just please don’t do this.”
He grabs on to my arm, and I shake him off.
“Shit, let’s get this done,” Python grumbles. “I got some double chocolate brownies waiting for me.”
“You don’t want to listen to reason, fine.
All those women you think I wronged were nothing but a bunch of whores, including your precious Cheryl.
If I had more time with her, I would’ve had her on her back too,” Graham screams, spittle flying from his deranged mouth.
“The only way women know how to do business is with their legs open.”
“There’s the sick fuck who’s been hiding behind his father’s money.” My blood surges through my veins. “Your days of getting away with shit ‘cause of privilege are over, fucker.”
“I just changed my mind.” I turn to Python and hold out my hand. “Yeah, this is gonna be sweet.”
Python flips the gun in his hand and holds it out to me.
Mamba steps aside, and Python loosens his grip on Graham’s arm. I lower my gaze to the gun, then heft it in my hand. A split second later, Graham lunges forward. He grabs Python’s knife out of its sheath, and the thick silver blade slices through the air, shimmering under the sun.
A second later, a burning heat radiates through my gut. I pitch forward, and the gun slips from my hand. Graham stumbles against the dry, crumbling ground, desperately trying to regain his footing.