Chapter 52
Bullets he left immediately. Five minutes later, I watched him walk back into the room with the girl's hair tangled tightly in his fist.
Right as they crossed the threshold, a silver Dodge Charger screeched into the lot outside and started bussing.
Bullets tore through the air, and one caught Trent right in the shoulder.
Clo didn't even flinch—he jumped up immediately and bolted toward his cousin.
I was right on his heels. Even while taking fire, Trent never let go of the girl; he drew his own piece and started bussing right back through the window.
By the time we hit the ground level, the car was already screaming down the street, its taillights fading into the distance.
Trent came back up holding his arm, blood leaking through his fingers. As soon as we made it back inside the suite, he slung shorty straight onto the floor. She looked utterly terrified, wide-eyed as she stared up at the circle of dangerous men surrounding her.
The old man stepped forward, looking at Trent with a nod of approval. “I like your work ethic, son. I might need a man with a heart like yours down in Mexico.”
Trent managed a tight smile through the pain. “I got to decline, Socorro. This operation right here still needs me.”
“Smart boy,” Socorro replied. Then his eyes swept over the rest of us. “Every single man in this room is positioning to move up very soon. Y'all just need to clear the streets of this other side first.”
He suddenly turned his sharp gaze toward me, narrowing his eyes as he paced in a slow circle, looking like he was trying to read my entire life story.
“Who are you?” he asked bluntly.
I didn't flinch. I met his stare head-on and answered respectfully, “I’m Rizz. Who are you?”
The old man didn't get offended. Instead, he pulled a fresh blunt from his mouth, struck a lighter, and took a long, slow drag before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.
“Right now, I’m just a grandfather. An elder,” he said, a dangerous glint in his eye. “But down in Mexico, I’m what you call la peor pesadilla de una perra—a bitch's worst nightmare. I can be your best friend, or I can be your absolute worst enemy. It all depends on who you are.”
He gave me a slow wink. I pride myself on never being intimidated by another living man, but I’ll admit it—that old man shook the absolute shit out of me.
Clo stepped over and crouched down across from the girl. She was still huddled on the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
“I don’t believe in hurting women,” Clo said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Just tell me what I need to know, and you’ll be straight.”
She looked up fearfully at Trent, who was still glaring at her with pure anger, before shifting her terrified gaze back to Clo.
“Rox is my pimp,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “I told him my homegirl Riley works here in the hotel. He told me to get a room and cozy up to Riley so she could end up working for Ronnie over at Juicy’s house.”
Me and Clo locked eyes instantly.
“You know where Juicy lives?” Clo pressed.
“Yeah, Gems. It’s that apartment complex on the North Side where they push heavy weight. Juicy cooks the crack, and when hotel business is slow, Rox takes me over there to make plays and hustle.”
Clo stood up and looked down at her. “You need real protection now, and I’m going to make sure you get it. I don’t condone prostitution, but you got a way out if you want it. Do you know how to pour drinks?”
She nodded quickly, wiping a tear. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good. I got a safe house for you and a legitimate job lined up. But if you ever reach back out to Rox on your own terms, he’s going to kill you without a second thought.”
“I’m already knowing,” she whispered.
Standing there, listening to her talk, a deep, cold rage settled in my chest. Not only was that coward Ronnie hiding right here in my apartment like a rat, but he was actively sabotaging my business and messing with my money.