Chapter 10 Stellan
STELLAN
There was a time not all that long ago when seedy motels littered Delaware County.
They catered to the truckers bringing goods up from down south, pimps who needed cheap spots for their tricks to do business, men cheating on their wives, wives murdering their cheating husbands, that sort of thing.
The good old-fashioned Delco way of life.
It's not like that anymore. At least the motels aren't. The same sort of shitbag people still flock to these places, but now the outsides all have that same bleak modernist look.
Lots of random geometric designs, drab colors, minimalist interiors with that fake wood linoleum flooring stuff all over the place.
Easier to clean blood off that stuff than it is to steam carpet.
Gone is all that character. But in other ways, it's better like this.
Now that the motels look exactly the same, I know how to navigate them.
Nobody looks twice at a big man wearing a long coat walking the halls of a place like this late at night.
Nobody wants to get caught staring for too long.
Not when they're probably doing some shady-ass shit too.
Lucky for me, the girl working the front desk was very helpful.
She took my twenty-dollar bill and gave me a room number without asking too many questions.
She smiled a lot and fluttered her eyelashes, and I bet she’ll have a good description for the cops when they inevitably show up sometime in the next few hours, but that can’t be helped.
I have a face women like to remember. It’s a gift and a curse.
Room 215 is tucked in a dim corner of the building.
I stand outside and check my phone. No calls or texts.
I idly rub at the wound on my ribs and scratch at the stitches.
It’s been over a week since I last saw Kira, and her handiwork is getting ready to come out.
Every time I touch the cut, I think about her and wish I had more time to visit the diner.
Her rent is astronomical at this point, and she still hasn’t accepted my dinner invitation.
I smile to myself. Stubborn, fucking girl.
I’d rather be drinking shitty coffee in a beat-up old booth, but this is more pressing.
It took way too long to find my friend here and used up way too many favors and resources.
I consider knocking. The bastard might even answer.
I know he’s in there since I’ve been following him all day long.
Which hasn’t been easy. The bastard’s boring as hell.
A trip to Wawa for gas and lunch, a stop at a Target for half an hour, and right back to the hotel.
He hasn’t been out of his room in hours.
I can’t give my friend the chance to escape, though. Almost reluctantly, I slam the heel of my heavy work boots against the cheap door. It buckles and cracks open after a second hard kick.
My gun feels like an old friend in my hands as I stalk inside.
Yusuf yelps and falls off the bed, trying desperately to pull his pants up.
The TV’s playing crappy porn. Moans escape from his laptop.
More porn’s playing. Some overly muscular guy’s slamming a tiny girl.
They’re both screaming like they’re in heaven or maybe getting murdered. Hard to say sometimes.
“Get the fuck up,” I snarl, pointing the gun down at Yusuf’s face. He’s got one hand shoved awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans. “Do it real slow.”
“How did you find me?” He’s got a vague New York accent. I notice it now that I’m not fighting for my life.
“Your internet traffic. I bet you know what gooning is, don’t you?”
He grimaces, eyes glancing at the screen. “But how did that lead you to me?”
“Your fucking username is Yusuf_jerksit, you stupid fuck. Wasn’t hard to make the connection.” I kick him hard in the ribs. “I owed you that.”
He groans and rolls over. I drag him back up onto the bed, pull his gun from his pants, and toss it aside. He curls into himself as I turn off the TV and slam his laptop lid closed.
He looks younger than I remember. Skinny, tattooed, exposed. His eyes keep darting to the hallway like he hopes help’s on the way. But not in a place like this. Not unless there are gunshots, and I haven’t pulled the trigger. Not yet, anyway.
“Time to answer some questions. Why did you send Hector after me?”
Yusuf only shrugs. “Business. That’s all.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Nobody important.”
I hit him hard. No hesitation. I smack the butt of the gun into his forehead and send him sprawling backward. I press the barrel against his dick. “Try again. Who do you work for?”
“Please,” he groans awkwardly, blood running into his eyes.
“Give me a name.”
“Isak! Isak Vural.” He groans and raises his hands. “Please don’t shoot me.”
“Sick fuck. Your dick’s really that important to you?”
“I’ll talk, okay? I’ll talk, just don’t shoot.”
I resist the urge to do it anyway. Blow this pathetic bastard’s dick to smithereens. How the hell did a pathetic loser like this get the drop on me and survive the fight?
Something doesn’t sit right.
“You knew I was going to be at Hector’s apartment.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I got a message telling me to be there. That’s all I know!”
“Someone else told you to show up?”
“Yes, someone from Isak’s crew. I don’t know who. They don’t tell me shit!”
“But they knew I was going to be there.”
“Probably. I don’t know.”
I let out a soft, frustrated snarl. “You don’t know much, do you? What fucking use are you?”
“Please,” he whimpers, the pathetic piece of shit.
I want to hurt him. But he’s still useful. “What’s your boss want with me? Why’s he sending me a message?”
“They’re moving on your territory. I was sent here to start laying the groundwork.”
“How?”
“Connections. Money. Weapons. That sort of thing.”
“They sent a pathetic goon like you for that?”
“I’m good at it.” A note of pride in his voice.
I hit him hard in the nose. He groans, eyes going unfocused as he snorts out a torrent of blood.
“How does this Isak think he can take out my family?”
“He’s looking for something. I don’t know what it is, but it’s important. He says it’ll change the balance of power.”
I stare, mouth going dry. My hands begin to tremble slightly, and I take a step back. My pulse hammers in my head.
He’s looking for something that’ll change the balance of power?
Just like I’ve been trying to hunt down my father’s last, most terrible secret…
But there’s no way some random Turkish gangsters know about the Black Book.
And there’s just no way in hell they know it’s missing.
“Where does your boss work from?” I ask, struggling to keep myself grounded. I’m spiraling out in all directions as the implications of this conversation slowly settle on my shoulders.
“New York. The Vural organization’s big up there. Please, I’m just a foot soldier. I’m nothing.”
He’s fucking right. He’s absolutely nothing.
The revelation about Isak’s search leaves me reeling. Without thinking, I raise the gun and pull the trigger.
Yusuf’s head snaps back in a spray of gore.
I stand in the aftermath for a long moment. The corpse stinks. A part of me knows I should’ve kept him alive, at least to use him as bait for the rest of his operation. If there’s one sick goon causing problems, there are going to be more of them.
But I can barely keep my head straight.
He’s looking for something. Just like I’ve been looking for something.
The one secret my father has been keeping for a long time. The source of the Corsetti family’s power.
The Black Book.
Everything comes back to the book.
If Isak finds it before I do—
My entire family is dead.
I can’t let that happen.
No matter the cost.
I slump into the booth and lean my head back against the fake leather. The diner smells like grease and ketchup. It's strangely comforting and familiar. I haven't been here in a couple weeks, but coming back feels like stepping into my childhood home.
A cup of coffee appears in front of me. I frown in surprise and look over.
Kira's standing at the end of the table, scowling like I'm a huge disappointment.
“You're still alive,” she comments.
I touch the wound. “Thanks to you.”
“Part of me thought you were dead.” Her face twitches slightly, and I realize she's been worried.
I showed up on her doorstep with a nasty cut, asked for her help stitching it up, and disappeared again without an explanation. I bet she thought she got rid of me for good.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
Her expression hardens. “I'll survive. What's my rent now?”
“More than you can afford.”
She snorts a cute laugh. “You're such a prick.”
“I know.”
She glances sideways toward the counter. I can tell she's struggling with something, but finally looks back at me. “The driver's been a huge help. Thanks for that.”
“You're welcome. Glad Gem likes it.”
“She raves, honestly. Says it changed her life.”
I stare at her, holding her pretty eyes with my own. “Have dinner with me.”
She licks her lips, opens her mouth, and finally closes her eyes. “Next Saturday.”
My eyebrows raise in surprise. “What about it?”
“Don't be a dick and make me spell it out.”
“I'll pick you up at seven.”
“Fine. You better keep sending the driver.”
“No matter what, for as long as she needs it.” I hope she understands what that means. My offer to help her sister isn't contingent on what happens at dinner.
Kira nods, looking uncertain. “Why did you come to my apartment that night? You never really told me.”
I tilt my head. “Would you believe me if I said you're the only person I trust right now?”
She frowns for a second before grunting and turning her back. “I don't even know why I bother.”
I watch her walk off to help another customer. I sip the coffee. A little cream, no sugar, just the way I like it. I try not to smile.
She can be mad, but I told her the truth. Yusuf only confirmed my suspicion from that night.
Someone told them I was going to be at Hector's place. Someone who knows my movements intimately.
Which means I have a mole in my organization.
On top of this problem with the fucking Turks and the damn Black Book.
I drink my coffee and think about all the ways my life's going to shit. I think Kira's done with me for the night, but an hour later, she wordlessly refills my cup. I catch her eye, only briefly, and wonder if she really is the solution to all my problems.