Chapter Sixteen

“He’ll be expecting you,” Bruce murmured, now sitting across from us in the limo. I stared at him in terror as he yanked a rather large pistol out of his jacket and screwed on what looked like a silencer.

“I know.” Ezekiel’s face was dark, his eyes narrowed, his brow low. I was getting my first look at a very dangerous man. He’d been cordial and polite until now, and even during sex he was somewhat reserved. But this was another side of him, a violent and focused side. I feared for anyone who ever crossed him.

“What about her?” Bruce motioned toward me, not even looking in my direction. As if I weren’t here.

“Call Roger. Have him pick her up at—”

Bruce interrupted him. “We have a tail.”

I moved to twist around, but Ezekiel grabbed my arm in a death grip. I quickly turned to my lap, my heart in my throat. “Oh, really?”

“Can’t let her out now.”

“So that’s the game he’s going to play, hmm?”

Ezekiel crouched, half-standing as he made his way to looked like a panel of buttons beside the bar. Typing in a few numbers, the safe clicked and the door swung open. I gulped at the collection of weapons inside. Ezekiel snatched two pistols, one silver and one black, and slipped both under his jacket.

“They’ll disarm you,” Bruce murmured.

Ezekiel also pulled out a knife, its blade encased in a leather slip. He reached down and slid it into his shoe.

“I’ll just have to be clever then, won’t I?” Ezekiel shut the door and sank back down. He turned to me. “I apologize for this. I would have liked to return you to the hotel. However, circumstances have forced me to do otherwise. Whatever happens, you stay close to Garett and Bruce, do you understand?”

I nodded dumbly, really wishing Roger was here. Roger seemed to actually care whether I lived or died. Judging by the indifferent stare Bruce turned toward me, he would sacrifice me to save his own hind end.

I surreptitiously glanced over my shoulder. A pair of headlights blazed behind us, driving too close for comfort. A tail indeed.

“Call Roger. Tell him the circumstances. He’ll know what to do.”

Bruce nodded and raised a hand to his earpiece as he called.

“Ezekiel,” I whispered, trying not to shake. Even worse, I wasn’t even sure if I was trembling from fear or because I hadn’t shot up since the plane ride. I had the worst timing.

“What is it?”

“What—what is going on? I—how dangerous—will—”

“Don’t worry.” His eyes met mine in utter seriousness. “You won’t be harmed.”

“But—but what is all this? What’s going on?”

“I think ignorance is the best way to go about this. Here.” Ezekiel handed me another knife, this one smaller than the one he’d put in his shoe, also fitted with a leather case around the blade. “Tuck this somewhere and don’t use it unless you absolutely must.”

Gulping, I took the knife. It was heavy and cold in my hand. It reminded me of the one time I stabbed a man with a pair of scissors to get him off of me. He’d tried to get a second trick for free. He might have forgone that if he’d predicted I’d shove scissors in his side. I barely made it out alive that night, hence why I wasn’t so fond of sharp objects.

Ezekiel touched my face, more gently than I expected. “Melissa, I mean it. I know what I’m doing.”

I tried to trust him. Too bad I had never trusted him before, let alone now.

The limo slowed and turned into an alley. Immediately my hackles rose, because in this alley, Goddess was no more fancy than Metro. There was trash, darkness, graffiti, and someone looking to shoot you in the head. When the limo door opened, I nearly threw my arms around Ezekiel in terror. No. Not into the alley. We were safe in the car. We weren’t safe out there.

I had to get out though. When I did, I saw that our tail had pulled in behind us. Two men in black had emerged, pulling on gloves and carrying guns. I backed away, right into a thick chest. Squeaking, I whipped around. Garett was staring down at me, and for some reason, he scared me just as much as the guys across from me.

Bruce stepped out of the limo, then Ezekiel. Ezekiel moved like a hunting tiger, each move calculated, not a hint of emotion on any scrap of him. He was smaller than his bodyguards, but he was so much fiercer, a man without fear or conscience. Blade, the man with tattoos, gold-capped teeth, and flying fists, was a child with a temper next to Ezekiel, dressed like a gentleman, not a hair out of place.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Ezekiel greeted amiably. “I suppose you’d like to discuss business.”

The men were now pointing guns at us, big ones too. I wasn’t sure what the difference between automatic and semi-automatic guns, at least in appearance, but they were something, judging from their length and weight. My stomach was bunching up in my throat, and I found it difficult to breathe. I wanted to hold onto something, someone, but no one reached out for me. I felt particularly vulnerable in my six-inch pumps and black mini dress. I couldn’t even run if I had to.

“Put down your weapons,” one of the men growled. “You’re surrounded.”

Ezekiel casually turned around, as did I. Indeed there was another car rolling down the alley, and someone was standing in the roof window, pointing more guns at us.

“It would seem so.” Ezekiel threw his gun down.

“All of them,” another man snapped. “We’ll be frisking you to make sure, so don’t pull anything.”

Ezekiel shrugged and raised his arms. “Search as you like.”

The men were cautious to approach, but Ezekiel looked rather compliant when they went about frisking him. I tensed when a man grabbed my arm and pushed me against the limo. I let out a small cry at the roughness of his shove, and felt like grabbing onto Ezekiel. But Ezekiel just glanced at me over his shoulder, his face as smooth as always. His eyes said something, though, and I believed he was ordering me to calm down. I swallowed another cry and tried not to recoil as the man’s hands skimmed over my body. I couldn’t remember them being this thorough with Ezekiel, and when his hands fell across my boobs, I tried shoving him off of me.

“Little fuck,” I growled, and he slapped me. I didn’t cry out though. Bruce, Garett and Ezekiel were being tough about this. I refused to be the blubbering helpless damsel in this transaction. I had dignity, and I would struggle to retain it.

“Leave her alone,” Ezekiel said, though his voice was neither urgent or indignant, as if he was discussing the weather. “Do you really think she has much to hide in that dress?”

The man leered at me but pushed away, and I pulled on the hem of my skirt with a hmph. He hadn’t found the knife tucked into my bra, so for all his groping, he’d still failed at disarming me.

“Alright,” the biggest of the men growled, taking Ezekiel’s arm. “Get moving.”

“I can walk on my own. No need to lead me like a dog,” Ezekiel muttered, but the man didn’t let go of him. I saw him glance at Bruce, who, if I wasn’t mistaken, nodded minutely. They knew what to do even if I was left in the dark. I took some comfort in knowing they weren’t afraid in the least.

The building we entered wasn’t like the sort that populated downtown. It wasn’t exactly decrepit, but it was made with a tight budget, so it was mostly cheap linoleum and gray walls with poor lighting. It looked like some sort of office building after hours, so most of it was dark. We were taken into a staircase and ordered to climb. I found it interesting how even when he was being shoved around by a crony, Ezekiel retained his powerful air.

More men joined us on the third floor, toting big guns and heavy scowls. One of them found it necessary to grab me, though at least he wasn’t feeling me up like the other man. I fell a bit behind because of my heels, but I managed to make it to the fourth floor without losing either shoe.

We were taken to an office at the end of the hall, this one decorated more lavishly than the corridors that led to it. It had a large window that had a decent view of downtown Goddess, an aquarium in the corner, and stained wood floors. The red walls were hung with paintings, and the room was decorated with matching furniture. A desk stood at the end of the room, and behind it sat Jerry Brodrick, wearing a dark green suit that flattered his trim form. His graying hair was combed and swept into a perfect coiffure, and nearly matched the white shoes he had perched on top of his desk. He looked relaxed and comfortable, with a silver pistol in his hand and a phone in the other. He straightened when we entered, but he still remained reclined in his leather chair, grinning like a fat king on his throne.

“Ezekiel, welcome!” he cried, throwing up his hands and removing his feet from the desk. He stood, straightening his silk-collared suit jacket. “I’m sorry about the rather cold reception, but one must be careful in this business.”

Ezekiel ripped his arm from a crony’s grasp, and the man allowed it. With a jerk of his head, Jerry ordered the men back against the door. I let out a small sigh when the powerful grasp left my elbow, but my relief didn’t last long. I realized we were standing in the center of a heavily armed circle of drug traders. A flush bloomed along my chest, and a thin sheen of sweat started between my thighs. The knife in my bra felt heavy and useless.

“You’re pulling out,” Ezekiel said calmly.

“Shocked? Honestly, Ezekiel, you know I’m a business man. I go where the money is. And right now, the money is with Blue Kitten.”

Ezekiel sneered. “It has a pet name now?”

Jerry smiled, all white teeth and debonair charm. I wondered if he was married with children. He struck me as the kind of guy who would lead a double life. “I find it rather cute, don’t you? Anyway, it’s been selling undeniably well, and everyone investing in it is walking away rich.”

Ezekiel’s eyes sharpened. “It’s a fad that will fade. Because from what I hear, it’s been killing customers left and right.”

“If I can sell it, I don’t give a shit who it kills. Do you actually care about your customers, Ezekiel? Have you gone soft?”

Ezekiel raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me if I’m not mistaken, Broderick, but killing off your buyers is a bad investment idea. Right now you’ve got these druggies climbing over dead bodies to get their fix, but eventually you’ll run out of suicidal scum, and you’ll be left with an extinct clientele.”

“The difference between you and I, Ezekiel, is that you don’t take chances. I do. Anyone in this business has to be willing to take the risk.”

“The difference between you and me is that I think in the long term while you gamble away profits on get-rich-quick schemes. Do you run your oil business like this? I’m shocked it hasn’t gone belly-up by now.”

Jerry sighed heavily and sat on the edge of his desk, dropping his gun-wielding arm between his thighs. “You don’t see, Ezekiel. I know that Blue Kitten will eventually lose its popularity when the death toll climbs. I know that the longer it stays on the market, the more the government is going to try to track me down. That’s why I’ll move onto the next fad in a few months, and continue doing this until I retire.”

“Seems like a lot of work not worth the benefits. I’ve developed a reputation for myself and a reliable income. I’m not going to go skipping around and throwing my money away to anyone who can create the next new super drug. I root myself and I find people I can trust, a system that works, and a clientele that will last for years.”

“Amusing, isn’t it? I, the old man, is more interesting in fads, while you, a young man, want to stay rooted in tradition.” A predatorial smile tweaked at Jerry’s lips. “The problem is, Ezekiel, is that staying put makes you too predictable. That’s why I’m pulling out of your operation and investing my funds elsewhere. If you want to milk this market, you’ve gotta stay three steps ahead of everyone else. It’s a tragedy, really. You’re one of the most promising young men I’ve seen in the business.” He lifted his gun slightly. “Which makes you dangerous competition.” His arm swung up and he pointed the pistol straight at Ezekiel’s head. “Competition I must eliminate.”

I watched Ezekiel in horror, waiting for Ezekiel to show a flicker of fear or doubt. To show a slice of humanity. But his gaze remined stagnant. He wasn’t afraid at all. How could he not feel fear when he was just a few strides away from a gun pointed at his brain? I could practically hear my bones clacking, I was shaking so hard, and I wasn’t even the victim here.

“Interesting that you use the word ‘predictable’, Broderick. Because either you’re stupid, or you’re mistaken.”

Suddenly the floor jolted underneath me, and a loud boom pierced the air with such force that for a moment all I couldn’t hear anything but a soft buzz in my ears. Hot air slapped my back, and once more the floor trembled. I stumbled into Ezekiel, but everyone was moving and shouting and I didn’t know what was going on. There were gunshots that rang out, the signature crackle of flames, and a more intense heat filling the room. I’d collapsed to my knees (heels weren’t the most stable shoes), but someone was yanking me to a stand. For a moment I grabbed at his jacket, assuming it was Ezekiel. But when I found myself looking into a pair of dark brown eyes, I let out a cry of shock. Before I could gaze at Jerry any longer, he whipped me around, wrapped an arm around my throat, and pressed a gun to my temple.

I could now see what had happened. Something had exploded on the floor, and men were spilling out into the hall, allowing a stream of smoke to enter the room. Three people lied dead, one of them at Bruce’s feet, his neck twisted all the way around. Bruce, Garett and Ezekiel all had guns, the bodyguards carrying the large rifles while Ezekiel was pointing his pistol at Broderick. Jerry’s cronies were pointing their guns as well, though they shifted, now suddenly nervous. I could understand. Without guns, these three were only slightly intimidating. With them, the game’s stakes had risen.

Someone was going to get shot. It was all a matter of who.

The pistol was cold and heavy against my temple, and I closed my eyes, imagining the bullet within the chamber destined for my skull. Oh God, this was it. This was the last night of my life. Ezekiel was in the perfect position to shoot Broderick. So what if I died in the process. It didn’t matter. Broderick had to die, and I was a pawn. I felt like sobbing, then wondered what the point was. What was my life worth, anyway? What did I have to live for?

“What was that?” Broderick demanded. “What did you do?”

“Bruce and Garett aren’t my only employees, Broderick,” Ezekiel stated calmly, his gun never wavering. “And Roger is rather good at creating distractions.”

“You son of a—”

“If you let her go, I won’t kill you tonight,” Ezekiel growled. “I’ll let you fly home and hide.”

“Your word means nothing. Neither does she. At least not to me. But does she mean something to you?” The gun pressed harder against my skin. “How about we find out? Put your guns down, and she doesn’t get hurt.”

Ezekiel did no such thing. I inhaled sharply and bit my lip. Oh God, I was going to die. All over a battle that wasn’t mine. I was stuck in a crossfire between wealthy drug lords battling over territory. Why me? Why now? God, I was only twenty years old. I never told my sister I loved her. I never slept with a man I loved. It wasn’t fair. None of it . . .

“So you don’t care about her, is that it?” His arm tightened around my throat. “And here I thought she was special. You’re not one to fraternize with women. I thought you felt something for this little whore.”

“Let her go,” Ezekiel ordered, his voice still flat and emotionless.

“Put down your guns and I will.”

I opened my eyes and tried to catch Ezekiel’s gaze. He wasn’t looking at me though. He made such an intimidating figure, standing there in his black suit, arm raised, pistol steady, eyes zeroed in on his target. I wondered how Broderick could meet his glare.

“I’ll give you five seconds to decide,” Broderick snapped. “Or the bitch dies.”

“Before you start the countdown, tell me. How fast does it take a message to travel from the brain to the trigger finger?”

Broderick paused. “Stop playing games with me, Ezekiel.”

“Roughly twenty five meters per second.”

The gun on my temple shifted slightly. “Is is this some sort of riddl—”

“And how fast does a bullet travel?”

“Ezek—”

A gunshot rang off, and for a moment I expected my world to blink into nothing. But when I felt an arm slip from my neck and heard a thump, I opened my eyes to find Broderick dead, with a hole right in the center of his forehead.

“Faster than that,” Ezekiel hissed.

Author’s Note:

Well, it’s true. Look it up.

To Quita: Thank you for the review. I hope this was what you were looking for. ;)