Chapter Ten
JAX
“THIS GUY’S a piece of shit.” Callum’s voice booms over the speaker of Mason’s phone, which is lying in the middle of Mr. Harlow’s desk.
Pulling my eyes from the beautiful blond in the horse pen across the yard, I look at Mason, he’s flipped his ball cap backwards like it’s his thinking cap.
“We already know that, we had to bury a dead cat he sent with a gigantic bouquet of flowers. But I feel like you’re going to tell me something that’s even worse than killing animals. ”
Marley being outside with no one at the stable with her is making me antsy. Especially after getting the dead cat the other day. She shouldn’t be out there by herself, but she won’t listen to anyone when we tell her it’s for her safety, she insists the horses need attention every day.
She’s stubborn enough that she won’t be swayed.
When Mason told me there was going to be a conference call with Callum and Spits this morning, I wasn’t happy to hear we were meeting in the office to do it. It just seems so far away from the stables.
Turning my head back to the window, I resume my position, leaning on the frame of the big picture window of the office, my eyes glued on the slight frame with the perfect curves holding a training stick in the pen. The horse has finally started approaching her, but on his own skittish terms.
The irony in the situation almost makes me laugh out loud. Just months ago, Marley wouldn’t approach me or let me close to her because of her own past trauma, but now she’s letting me in, a little at a time, on her own skittish terms.
Since her breakdown in the stable the other day, she’s talking to me more when I’m around her. I actually even got a smile from her yesterday. It was like seeing the sun after a cloudy day.
“It looks like your guy has ties to mafia activity in the state, La Cosa Nostra, which is headquartered in Chicago. Spits.”
“Yeah.” Spits’ deep voice echoes over the line. “David Barone, also goes by ‘D’, is a soldier, meaning he has proven himself to the outfit, which includes an oath of silence and killing someone, for those of you who aren’t familiar with the hierarchy.
“His father was also a soldier in the 90s before he was killed. David was only five when someone broke into their home in the middle of the night and shot him point blank in the forehead. Rumor was that he was boning the wrong wife.”
“Let me stop you right there.” Mr. Harlow stops Spits’ report and leans back in his squeaky desk chair, while holding his hands up like he’s telling a group of unruly guys to quiet down, and the room becomes quiet.
“Can you please tell me how and why the mafia would be interested in Oklahoma?” Indignation and an unbelieving chuckle are laced in his voice as he says, “And more importantly, how did this move into a suburb? My damn back yard?”
“Right.” Spits responds immediately. He doesn’t seem to mind the interruption, if his monotone voice is any indication.
“Because of minimal or no policing, native lands during prohibition were ripe with bootleggers and shipping routes. Since then, established bases in Norman, Grand Lake in Grove, Tulsa, and Kansas City have grown.”
“So, we have active Italian mafia in the state still? Why would they have any interest in this area? Prohibition was over nearly a hundred years ago.” Gray is leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his eyebrows pulled together.
“Marijuana.” Spits answers without hesitation. “Believe it or not, Oklahoma is a top supplier of illicit and novelty weed. Because of the remote farmland, native boundaries, and it’s centralized location, it’s a forty billion dollars a year business.”
The room is quiet for what seems like a full minute as everyone lets the information sink in.
This isn’t a simple matter of getting rid of a few people to solve the problem.
The issue is bigger than that, getting rid of the people here would ensure a surge of people to replace them.
Not only to protect their assets but also to get revenge on those who shook the hornet’s nest in the first place.
Mason is the first to speak. “How big is this? How do we get this guy to go away?” I spare a look in his direction.
He’s on the other side of the picture window, his back against the frame, and then return my attention to Marley, who has put down the training crop and is standing in the middle of the pen, facing the horse.
“Your girl who is hiding from this ‘D’ guy is basically a wrong place at the wrong time situation. She fell ass backwards into something that she can’t get out of. Even if she doesn’t know anything, they will think she does, and since she’s MIA, she’s a liability.” Callum offers.
“If I may.” Spits interjects. “In your general location, the northeast corner of the state specifically, is Italian mafia, an increasing presence of Yakuza, and a smaller Bratva presence. It’s growing at an alarming rate.”
My head jerks to look at the phone and then at Mason. His eyes are cut in my direction and for the first time, I give them more of my attention and keep Marley in my peripheral. “What type of Bratva presence are you talking about? Do you have an organization name?”
Typing is heard over the line for a moment before Spits answers.
“So, the relatively small business dealings in Oklahoma are through an outfit in Brooklyn. They bought some land under a shell corporation about ten years ago and because of increasing sales, lower land taxes, and a conveniently central location in the country, they have bought more land in the past three years.”
“Do you have any names associated with them?” I ask, and I feel Gray’s eyes on me before I look up and see him narrow them as he listens.
More typing and Spits says, “The name on the shell company is Sokolov.”
Not wanting to start anything with Gray, I keep my eyes on the phone and my face neutral as I nod. Avoiding making eye contact with anyone else, I turn and give Marley my full attention again. I think my past just may have saved us a lot of fucking trouble.
After a few moments of silence, Callum hesitantly speaks up. “There’s something else.”
The tone of his voice has me cutting my eyes to Mason. I can tell he hears it too, but his brow is pulled in confusion, like mine.
“In order for these organizations to function outside of the law, they need to keep judges, DAs, and police in their pocket.” He pauses and clears his throat. “One of the DA’s on their list is the father of the guy who attacked Marley.”
I’ve lost count of how many times, out in the field, on a job, I have been close to some type of detonation and felt the reverberations of it shake my body. Sometimes it hurts and other times it’s just a passing vibration.
The force of the silence that just fell on the room like a bomb, pushed all sound outward in a wave that crashed through me like an explosion.
It takes us a moment to recover, and Gray asks, “You’re sure?”
“Tulsa County District Attorney Anthony T. Blevins, Criminal Division?” Callum sounds like he is reading from something.
“He also signed off on Barone’s discharge from jail a week before the wedding.
He tried to get him out sooner, but the judge assigned to the case declined.
Since he’s not on the payroll and didn’t appreciate the downplay of the injuries Hallie suffered at this asshole’s hands, he couldn’t be persuaded.
Blevins even suggested Hallie was responsible for some of her own injuries to get attention. ”
“I would ask if you’re fucking with me, but I know you’re not.” Mason rolls his head from one shoulder to the other. “This fuckin’ guy…” Mason’s voice trails off as he tries to deal with his anger.
“I’m not fucking with you, and I wish that was all, but there’s one more thing and you’re not going to like it.
” Callum pauses before he says, “While looking into his associations, we found multiple sexual harassment complaints filed against the guy who attacked Marley, but the DA keeps getting them dismissed. I just thought you should know.”
I’m not sure which has the anger churning in my gut worse, that the asshole who attacked her just keeps targeting more women, or that he gets to live his best life while the beautiful woman out in her stables lives her life in a self-imposed prison.
“Thank you for telling us.” Mr. Harlow’s scratchy voice cuts through the heavy silence.
“Sure. I’ll let you know if I find anything else.” Callum signs off and the room is silent.
My gaze drifts back out to watch Marley, who is currently nuzzling a horse who, just a few days ago, wouldn’t come near her. Everything about her is soft, compassionate and beautiful, everything that is opposite of me.
My heart swells as I watch her hand move up and down the horse’s forehead, a slight smile of success on her lips. She’s fucking perfect.
Thinking back to the first time I saw her, it was like a cosmic shift, I felt it deep inside and I knew things would never be the same.
It was later that day when Mason told me she didn’t trust men, he let me figure it out myself, but the rage I felt woke up something that I usually keep locked up unless we’re out on a job.
The level of fury that I felt for her that day surprised me. It shouldn’t have, considering I watched my mom being raped to death for days, and then worried they would do something to my little sister.
It was weeks later before Mason told me the details from his perspective, but I could feel the wrath rattling me from the inside out.
I barely contained it. Mason described what he saw, and I felt it come alive, just beneath my skin.
The sensation is like my skin splitting as it’s pulled from every corner of my body and if I’m not careful, it can take over.
It’s only happened a few times, the first time was the day I killed two guards for killing my sister. She was only seven, and they planned to do unspeakable things to her. For revenge. To get revenge for something my father had done, those men killed my little sister.
I don’t remember what happened. My cousin Vasilei said I managed to get the knife from one and I slit his throat before I cut the other guard from stem to stern. He said it happened so fast that they barely saw it coming. To this day, when he tells the story he jokes that I’m part berserker.
I don’t remember any of it.
But my sister was still dead.
When Callum said the fucker’s name, I could feel the claws scratching on the walls, begging to come out and play. I may be paying a certain DA and his son a visit.