She doesn’t seem to recognize me, or she’s just being the same cruel bitch she always has been. I’m not the short, scrawny kid she used to stand up for by any means. It’s been over fifteen years since I’ve seen Helena Rossi in the flesh.
Fifteen years since my mourning the loss of my best friend.
The girl who wasn’t missing and was never found. The reason I joined the Royal Bastards. The fucking name I have tattooed on my chest that I have to explain to every woman who has ever seen me naked.
She’s a fucking drug lord.
Her father died in prison years ago, charged with her murder, and here she is, the picture of health. I stick to the back of the crew to watch our six, cause the bitch is conspiring on a super villain level.
“You good?” Tank asks me.
I give him a short nod and point at our Prez and Helena.
“Don’t let them out of your sight. I need to look around.” I pat his shoulder and break off down a dark hallway.
The building looks deserted, and if I had to bet, it is scheduled to be demolished just like the dozens of old buildingsin this area in their effort to regentrify the “problem areas” of the city.
I turn a corner, lost in thought, and everything changes.
It’s like I’m stepping into a Beverly Hills shopping center. I stop and look behind me and frown. When I turn back to the bright lights and shocked looks of the - nurses? Wait a fucking minute.
“Can I help you?” A young woman in scrubs steps towards me with her hands up as if not to startle me.
“Took a wrong turn, I guess. I’m a guest of Helena’s.” She seems calm and smiles at me.
“This can be a little shocking at first. Just head back down and take the first left. Her office is at the end of that corridor.” I nod, not able to hide my confusion. I’m just about to ask her what the fuck is going on when she shakes her head at me.
“You can’t always trust your eyes. She’s helping people, not hurting them.” I leave on that note cause how is selling drugs helping anyone?
I find Tank outside the closed office door and curse.
“Eyes on him at all times.” I slap the side of his head, causing him to grunt.
“He’s waiting on you. Have a good look around?” I glare at him as I knock.
“Yeah,” I answer him as I’m told to enter, so I open the door.
And there she fucking is. A vision in white. All long blonde hair, blue eyes, the color of clear ocean water, and if I breathe deep enough, I get a whiff of the same fucking coconut lotion she could never get enough of. The memories come flooding back to me so quickly that I have to grab hold of the doorjamb to keep standing.
“You good, Twist?” Prez using my shortened road name is a sign of concern.
“Not feeling well.” I try not to look at Helena again, but she’s like a supernova slowly sucking me in.
Gravity is a son of a bitch.
“Take a seat and just listen.” I nod and plant my ass in the chair furthest away from the woman holding this meeting.
If I keep my eyes down and my face hidden, maybe she won’t notice who I am. Or remember how important I used to be to her. Shit, maybe it was just all in my head. Just a stupid fifteen-year-old with a crush on the older girl who saved him from the school bullies.
Until one day she was gone, and he learned to save himself. That was when he became the savior.
“I was abducted when I was sixteen years old. Sold as a sex slave at a virgin auction and bought by a monster who made his money by selling bad drugs. By bad, I mean tainted. His shit was mostly poison, and the people addicted had a seventy-thirty chance of survival, at best, taking his shit.” She lights a fucking cigar, the pungent smell hitting my nose and making me look up.
Our eyes meet, and I know she sees it. The recognition is right there in her fucking gorgeous eyes.
“I vowed to myself that after I found a way to kill the motherfucker I’d clean up the shit he made. The problem is you can’t just stop taking this shit, so I make the cleanest versions I can. Keep the cost low, and slowly wean them off with a fully licensed medical team. It’s not perfect, but it works. For those who want the help.” She takes a toke and taps the ashes of the cigar into an ornate crystal ashtray on her desk.
“What does any of that have to do with us?” Prez cuts to the point, and she grins.
