Nothing filled the void until a beautiful girl with sad eyes walked inside my club with purposeful strides, then let me walk her out so we could live out her fantasy.
Surrounded by her happiness, I imagined a life beyond the dismal one I was living. I could finally see what I hadn’t wanted before. Rather than getting stuck on how I came into this world—that I was a mistake—I saw life with a wife and kids. My kids.
If anything happened to my kids, I’d be the villain and burn the world to get my revenge and justice. Carlos’s parents are gone, but he was close to his little brother, José. José must be gutted knowing his brother’s killer or killers are walking free. For fuck’s sake, we could be walking past them on the streets or in the grocery store and never know.
Slate is right. I’ve lived with the anger and guilt of letting down my friend long enough. It’s time to get answers, give his little brother closure, and bring down the motherfucker who put the hit on me, whoever he is.
“Whose name comes up when I ask who my enemy is?” I ask Slate.
“That’s a long list, man. You pissed off a lot of pompous, dangerous suits when you, a nobody without street cred, disrupted the nightlife scene and made a hole in the wall into a success from literally the ground up.”
“This rumor of me being at the warehouse is coming from somewhere. Either someone saw me or they’re putting my name out there to piss me off and draw me out. On my end, only you knew about my meeting with Carlos.” I trust Slate with my life. “Who the fuck did Carlos tell?”
“You should know. You and he were tight since he took you under his wing.”
It was a chance meeting that changed my life—an invisible string that led me to Carlos, and now to Ever.
“Only you know that part,” I point out. “Everyone else in the industry believed we hated one another, that we were rivals.”
Club rivalry is good for business. We played off each other’s attendance numbers, music choices, DJ talent, and which A-listers were in attendance.
“Or he told his brother.”
“Doubt it. I would’ve been dead the moment Carlos’s body hit the ground.”
Carlos and José were close, and no way in hell would José have let Carlos step inside that stretch of Alexandria without backup firepower.
I envied that about him. My brothers would rather I not exist. They’re self-righteous to their core, loyal to those they deem worthy of their time and attention, but somehow don’t give two fucks about the law.
It doesn’t surprise me one bit that they’re a baffling bunch. They’re Branson’s kids. My little sis isn’t cut from the same cloth, thank fuck. She’d rather swallow glass shards than be on the wrong side of the law.
“You think it’s someone in their crew?” Slate side-eyes me.
“Like your cousin? He’s had a chip on his shoulder since I gave Finley a job.” She’s in charge of payroll. “It’d make the most sense that he spread the rumor. He wields influence both within and outside their crew through his connections. Plus, he’s tight with Pretty Boy Ty, and Ty is tight with Carlos’s little brother. You get where I’m going here?”
Slate scowls. “Don’t confuse vindictiveness with territorial nature. If Gage thought anything was going on between you and his ex, you’d be on a missing persons flyer.”
He makes a good point. I cram my hands in my pants pockets. “We need to find out who is spreading the rumor and where it’s coming from. From someone in East Alexandria, Ty’s crew, or none of the above.”
The outskirts of East Alexandria are a shitty part of the city and desolate as fuck after dawn. Nobody with half a brain would consider setting foot near the warehouse that Carlos and I were scoping out for a potential development project with our shared vision for a revived East Alexandria, because if anything happened, no one would talk. A dead body was a missing body.
The people who lived in the run-down, decrepit high-rise that used to be a luxury condo until a fire gutted it—and the owners fled the country for fraud and tax evasion—would steal the bodies of the dead and do what the fuck with them.
When the shot rang out from the sniper rifle and Carlos fell to the ground, I panicked.
Suddenly, I was downrange, getting shot at from all directions. The soldier in front of me went down. Blood pooled beneath him and stained the ground. Brain matter spilled from the gaping hole in his head. A shot grazed my helmet. I hit the ground, praying to a God I didn’t believe in to watch over me as I crawled to a concrete barrier for cover.
Beads of sweat slid into my eye. A cloud of sand erupted from the ground and got in my eyes, nose, and mouth. I sucked sand into my lungs with each inhale, choking on it and gagging. The damn sand obscured my vision. My ears rang from the gunfire and mortars. All I could think of was finding the rest of my team.
Except there was no team. There was only Carlos on the ground, staring at me with lifeless eyes from where I was hiding behind a stacked pile of pallets. There was no accusation in his eyes, only fear. Knowing Carlos, it was fear for my life, and not his.
Whoever wanted me dead knew how to use a sniper rifle or had access to one. The fucker aimed for my heart and not my head, which made the kill personal. Who the fuck hates me so much they’d aim for my thumper rather than getting in a headshot?
The soulless who lived there would’ve taken Carlos’s body. I fired a warning shot from my Glock. Anything after that wouldn’t be a warning.
Was it Jules who spread the rumor? She started texting and calling again, using Slate to reach out to me. The last time was a few days before I came on to Ever at Crimson. She asked for a do-over and money. I told her hell no.
Could it be Iris? Nah. I haven’t heard from her since I broke off our casual hookups six months ago. It’d felt damn good to give up on the no-strings sex followed by the partying and drinking.
