Chapter 2 #2
“That’s the point.” He slapped my shoulder hard, curling his fingers to mold with my jacket. “We want you to track the car, get to know it—more specifically, the driver.”
“Is that him?” I asked, focusing my attention on a man with dirty blond hair.
He was at a gas station, the one near Erica’s house over the tracks.
A visible gun sat on his hip, and he was talking to someone inside the Mustang.
I didn’t know much about this guy, but his proximity to Estelle’s safe space already made my jaw lock up.
No one had lived in that house in years, even though it had been sold for longer than I’d been going to Styxton High School.
“He goes by Sebastian Dawson now.” Levi pressed his lips into a thin line, lifting a better photo of their target’s face. “He’s the man who shot your father. Destroyed years’ worth of hard work. Nearly killed your mother and you. Took out four?—”
“That’s him?” My eyes widened.
I’d heard the stories. My father never forgot a face that wronged him. He spent his entire life working on one face after another, and still, all he remembered was this man’s cowardly run after shooting him.
“Yup. Killed four of our best boys.”
“Damn.” I rolled my eyes and put two and two together. “And he has a daughter?”
“Yup.” Levi chuckled. “Seventeen.”
“So I’ve heard,” I muttered.
“You’ll enjoy her. She’s a pretty one.”
I ignored his comment and forcefully asked, “Why is she important?”
“She’s his weak spot, the one thing he’s tried to hide but can’t. You know a thing or two about that.” Levi smirked.
If my scowl hadn’t deepened by now, my lips were below my uncle’s casket.
My brows were pained from the force of my frown.
I didn’t bring Estelle around the farm for that very reason.
I’d never risk my daughter to these men when most of them loved the idea of mental and physical torture more than a peaceful dinner with their families.
I had enough practice with their way. My father often left me in the loft as they tortured answers out of traitors, so I’d learned what happened to people who blab.
“You’re going to kill her.”
The room went silent. The ringing in my ears became so loud, I barely recognized I had blubbered out a shocked response, as if I hadn’t prepared for this to happen. Hearing those dreadful words come from Levi’s mouth made it much more real.
Dominik would never have killed a seventeen-year-old without good reason. There was no way he would hand this job to me if he were alive. Sebastian may have shot my father, but his daughter hadn’t.
Levi stared at me with a sinister grin.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. “I thought you were all in, wearing that jacket like the men.”
“Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself.” I rolled my eyes and gulped down my drink. My throat burned as the ice twinkled against the glass. “I don’t wear this jacket to be compared to your twinkle toes boys. I wear this jacket because I know who I am: the motherfucking star.”
These boys didn’t need to know how much being here rocked my insides.
Levi stood from the bar as I tried to make my escape. I shook my head back and forth and sucked my teeth to keep myself from slamming my iron knuckles into his nose.
He sipped his drink and smirked.
“You don’t have a choice, Quincy.” He cocked his head to the right. “Your legacy depends on it.”
My legacy. Seriously? Eat my ass.
I didn’t give two shits about my legacy. Just because I was the blood of our best men didn’t mean I wanted it. I’d been primed by my father the second he knew I was different from my older sister, the moment I showed a tick of archery and defiance.
It’s your birthright.
A stupid birthright I didn’t want. My parents could not seriously expect me to fall into line after they proved how ill this entire pack was.
That was what we were: a pack of animals. My family was a pack of wild fucking animals, and my daughter would not be one of them.
“There are better ways to go about this. I told you I’m good with being made, but not with something that’s gonna light my ass up like a Christmas tree for my probation officer.” I shed my jacket. “I’m supposed to witness a hit. Rob someone. Steal a car. Light something on fire!”
“By all means, get creative!” Levi pushed the picture of the Ford Mustang down the bar. “Light it on fire. Rob her. Take the car and go make some money, kid. Have fun with it. I doubt she even knows how to work the radio.”
The boys around me laughed, similar to the time they wanted me to date Christian for information about his stepfather’s mechanic shop. Mr. Morley was a good man and deserved to get around the dues set by my father. I tried my hardest to shake Victor and Maddox off his trail, but…
Before I could rip my jacket off the rest of the way, a pair of blueish green eyes found mine. I lifted my chin high and inhaled through clenched teeth.
“Put that damn thing back on,” he growled.
As my father spoke, he struck his cane against the floor with each odd step. He didn’t need a cane; he just bathed in the dramatic effect of it all. Everyone around us stood still. Their eyes lingered from every angle, observing my approach against their boss.
My pussy ass father.
“You—” The sharp tip of his cane struck me square in the chest. I stumbled backward and caught my footing before the cold metal slapped the underside of my chin. “You will wear that jacket as a second skin, Eleanor.”
The tip pushed into my neck, and I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from wincing at the increasing pressure.
My windpipe choked up in silence, awaiting the weak point I’d always been taught to protect.
Our eyes locked in a challenge, but I didn’t dare rid myself of discomfort without his approval.
My father always had a thing for being overly affectionate about how much he disliked me.
“Levi.” Papa reached out and took the photograph from the man’s hand, balancing it near his cigar. Smoke followed the picture until it waved in my face. “What do you see, child?”
I entertained him with a reluctant glance. “A Ford Mustang.”
“Year?” he asked.
“I—” I cleared my throat, my eyes trailing down the baby blue paint to find its original markings intact. “Ninety-nine. Uh, no, it’s . . . it’s a sixty-six. Ford Mustang convertible soft top, nineteen sixty-six.”
It was hard to tell with all that had been done on it. Someone restored this beautiful car past pristine.
His cane dropped, and his hand roughly grabbed my shoulder. He yanked me closer and ignored my scrambling feet. Our heads leaned together as he glared deep into my eyes.
“Final answer?” he rasped.
“Yup.”
Papa shoved me back and slapped my cheek twice with the palm of his hand. It was enough to jolt my face around and leave a hissing sting, but nothing further.
“Wrong,” he hissed, waving the picture in my face. “I meant what I said, Eleanor: you are the one for this job. You are the one for this position. She’s the perfect target. Don’t fuck it up.”
“Dominik agreed to this?” I asked.
His chin lifted at my challenging tone. “She’s around your age. She’s at your school. In your grade?—”
“I didn’t ask that, did I?” I snapped. “I asked if Dominik had agreed to kill this kid? Is this the deal that got him killed?”
Is she going to get me killed?
Silence vibrated around me. If I dared to stir the pot, why did I pick a day when the Vincent idiots were around? They’d double cross me in a second if it meant a chance to show my father they could shine.
“We never had a deal.” Papa chuckled. His eyes were dark. “We had an understanding, as you and I do.”
“Hm.” I pressed my lips together until they stung.
“You’re eighteen. You have your markings. It’s time.” He stepped toward me with his head held high. “You need to show you can kill your demons, Quincy.”
The way my father spat my name made my chest tight. He always hated when I preferred to go by it. Not because he preferred the name Eleanor. No, he hated that I preferred the same man my mother reached for in his absence.