Chapter 5 #3
But at least I’d felt something those four years other than the basic needs of life.
We’d lived every day to the fullest, brutal but honest with each other.
Everything had tasted better. Food. Wine.
Women. Nothing had been off limits. It was like participating in the devil’s feast, but it was a continuous table full of food, servants of every type to do our bidding.
I missed the old days more than I cared to admit.
He exhaled after a few seconds, finally nodding, but I could tell he’d seen the faraway look in my eyes because I’d seen it in his. Together we’d been a force. Then we’d been torn apart, forced to grow the hell up.
By a mistake that had almost cost us everything, including our lives.
“I understand.” He lifted his glass, waiting until I toasted with him before taking a sip. “We have a lot to discuss.”
“Do we?”
“Yeah, I think we do,” the new arrival said in a flat tone.
The third voice was one I’d recognize anywhere. Brogan Lancaster.
I turned toward the doorway, shaking my head.
“My God, buddy. Haven’t you changed?” Changed wasn’t close to the correct term.
The man was like a brick shithouse, having grown by six inches and beefing out by fifty pounds.
With his inked sleeves and his closely cropped sandy blond hair, the man looked like a killing machine.
I hadn’t seen him in almost ten years. Time had flown by.
That was what spending almost six years behind bars could do, especially in the wretched facility he’d been sent to.
He headed toward us, his swagger another reminder of the different man he’d become. While he acknowledged both of us with a single nod each, his nostrils flared as he looked at the bar. “I need a drink. Make it a double.”
“I guess you do,” Alexander rumbled, issuing a bitter laugh afterwards.
Thirty seconds of silence was thirty seconds too long.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.
“That means you haven’t been threatened. Yet,” Brogan snarled.
I laughed, lifting my glass. “There isn’t a day that goes by in which I’m not issued a threat of some kind. Now, tell me what you’re talking about. I know someone tried to kill you, Alexander. Does that mean you were threatened by the same person first?”
“This meeting has everything to do with what happened in my club, but there’s more to it,” he growled his answer, his anger showing in his pinched expression. “The bitch managed to do something no one has ever done before. Get close.”
Why did I have a feeling that meant more than just close enough to stick a syringe into his neck?
Sighing, I rubbed my jaw, watching as Brogan moved toward one of the leather chairs, plopping down as if exhausted. “Am I to assume that happened to you as well, Brogan?”
He snorted. “I wasn’t out of the joint more than twelve fucking hours when I received a threat and had an attempt made on my life.”
I glanced from one man to the other. It was obvious they’d talked more than what Alexander had told me in his short but terse phone call. “Any idea who?”
“A woman,” Alexander answered. “One sexy as hell dancer in my club. She made it past an extensive security check, working in my club for long enough my manager trusted her. I made the mistake of hungering for a taste. That almost got me killed.” He laughed as he headed toward one of the other chairs, sitting down but remaining on the edge.
“She would have succeeded if I hadn’t had a shot of epinephrine with me. ”
His severe allergic reactions had forced him to always keep at least one vial of the drug with him. “It restarted your heart.”
“You remember,” he huffed. “It was touch and go for a while. If the poison had been much stronger, I wouldn’t be standing here today.”
“And you?” I directed my question toward Brogan.
“Also a woman. She scratched me with a ring, the damn tip covered in poison. She failed only because my skin is so damn thick. But I laid there on a damn ice-cold balcony for over six hours in a delusional state. By that point, I knew the bitch was gone.” His upper lip curled.
“She was damn good at convincing me she was a temptress and nothing else. I let my guard down even after the threat.”
“What were the threats you received?” Once again, I looked from one to the other.
“A single text line from a burner phone,” Alexander answered. “‘You will pay for your sins.’”
“Same here,” Brogan snarked.
“I assume you attempted to figure out who sent it.” I already knew the answer. Alexander likely scoured every illegal identification system he had access to in an effort to find out who’d been so bold and stupid to send a threat of any kind.
He laughed, rolling his glass from one hand to the other. “Of course I did. The woman obviously used an alias, but she covered her tracks like a pro.”
“So you’re thinking it was an assassin hired to do the job.” Processing what they’d told me was difficult, but something we’d all prepared for over the years. The fact it had taken this long for someone to seek retaliation fascinated me. However, red flags had already been raised.
“I don’t know what else to think.” Alexander seemed exhausted, rubbing his eyes then looking away. “We knew this day was coming.”
“We did. I think the fucker waited until I was released from prison on purpose. You’ve had nothing unusual happen?” Brogan asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, but I only returned to the country four days ago,” I answered.
“And you don’t remember receiving the same threat?” Alexander pressed.
I thought about it and shook my head. “I use different phones all the time. My personal cell phone is locked away when I’m working. I haven’t checked it since my return.” I made a mental note to do so as soon as I made it back to the house.
“She’s going to strike again. The only advantage we have is that she thinks the two of us are dead,” Brogan offered. “We need to keep it that way.”
“Then what the hell are you suggesting? Was it the same woman?” I took a gulp of my drink, refusing to relive the past. We’d made a second pact between us, one that was supposed to remain a secret.
“My beautiful blonde had lavender eyes. I remember that above almost anything else. You never forget the power of someone’s eyes as they are staring into your own.” Brogan had a faraway look.
“The redhead had lavender eyes as well. I’m suggesting that we hunt her down,” Alexander snarled.
“Same woman?”
They shrugged when I asked the question. “Mine was a blonde, Alexander’s a redhead. She wore a mask in my case.”
“She was obviously using a disguise both times, dear Daniel,” Alexander said, laughing. That’s what he used to call me when he thought my analytical mind was working too hard, which it usually was.
“From what little you’ve told me, I find it hard to believe she was a professional assassin. If she had been, the drugs would have worked. Whether she prepared the poison herself or was given the substance, no highly paid assassin would fail both times.”
“Then what are you suggesting?” Alexander asked.
“That this was personal.”
Both Alexander and Brogan nodded, a light going off in the mafia prince’s eyes.
“I rechecked Dahlia’s employment record myself. There was nothing to indicate she’d been lying.” Alexander seemed so sure of himself.
“Except she obviously was.”
Brogan laughed. “We were hunted by two mafia organizations all those years ago, yet it took a tiny woman with no understanding of narcotics to almost bring us down? Priceless.”
We remained quiet for a full two minutes.
I walked toward the window, staring out at the glistening lights of the pool encompassing a huge portion of Alexander’s backyard.
We’d all wanted to push the past away, pretending that what we’d experienced and the lies we’d decided to maintain hadn’t occurred.
While I was the only one to remain a law-abiding citizen, it would never excuse the horrific acts we’d participated in in the past. It didn’t matter how many scumbags I dragged off the streets. I deserved to serve time behind bars.
At least two of us had felt guilty. Brogan’s anger had gotten the better of him, landing his ass in prison for an unrelated charge.
But Alexander was a piece of work, a man with no conscience.
We were a strange trio, once a foursome.
The four musketeers, we’d called ourselves while everyone else had used the term, the Wild Boys. Maybe that had been more accurate.
“Did she say anything to make you suspicious?” I asked.
Brogan laughed, shaking his head. “Not until I was already losing consciousness, but I will never forget her words. ‘Each of you will pay for what you did.’”
Alexander stiffened. “That’s exactly what she said to me as well.”
Sighing, I looked away. “That means it’s very personal.”
“That also means you’re on that list,” Brogan suggested.
My skin crawled from the obvious. How many people had we crossed over those four years?
“How long are you remaining in the country?” Alexander finally asked me, breaking the silence.
“A week, maybe more.”
“Any public events on your schedule?” Brogan asked.
“I have a special request, a security gig for a senator, some fancy party he’s throwing in DC.” It was a request that I hadn’t been able to turn down, required by my director. I wasn’t in the mood to babysit prima donnas and pompous assholes for a night, but the extra pay was a nice perk.
I turned around to face them, feeling the tension in the room.
We’d believed that everything we’d done could be kept secret.
It would appear someone had kept track of all of us, likely keeping some damning evidence.
But going straight to murder instead of blackmail meant this was all about revenge and not extortion.
In my gut, I believed I knew the reason why.
“Garrison,” I muttered.
Brogan immediately bristled, and Alexander swore under his breath. “I find that hard to believe,” he said, but there was no conviction in his voice.