Redemptive (Combative, #2)(13)

Tiny finished drilling the last screw in place and, with more effort than seemed necessary, got up from his kneeling position and threw himself on the couch, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he did. “Cops got called out because of the gun going off. So far—nothing. Just some punk kid who OD’d in his car.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I guess,” he huffed out, trying to catch his breath. “But seeing the blood on her last night, there’s bound to be more of it out there. It’s just a matter of time.” He clutched his hand to his heart and attempted to sit up straighter. “When this is over, will you hit the gym with me? I feel like the donuts I ate three days ago are wrapped around my heart.”

“You got it, man,” I said over my shoulder, moving to my room. “I’ll get dressed. Then we’ll see Uncle Benny. Get it over with.”

*

Uncle Benny sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as if he was Marlon Brando in The goddamn Godfather. “PJ says—”

“PJ’s a dick.”

Clearly frustrated, Benny thumped his fist on his desk. “I don’t want to hear this shit, Nate. He’s going around calling my number two a *. He’s telling people he doesn’t believe you had the balls to take care of it.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s done.”

“How? Where did you do it?”

“She’s in the same place as Pauly. With the fish.”

“She’s dead?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Why are you questioning me?”

“Do I have a reason to?”

“Uncle Benny, you’ve known me since I was born. My dad and you—you were brothers. You accusing me of breaching your trust—of dishonoring The Family—it’s a f*ckin’ joke. I’ve given everything to this job since I was sixteen. While kids my age were screwing around, I was helping you build this empire. I don’t deserve this shit, especially from you. And you know that.”

I didn’t wait for a reply; I just stormed out of his office and into Tiny’s waiting car. I’d lied through my teeth, but the shit I’d said was what was expected of me—a controlled facade and indestructible armor.

Only it wasn’t indestructible.

And the girl in my house was proof of that.





10




Nate


Two weeks.

That’s how long we’d been living under the same roof, barely breathing a word to each other. During the day, I’d go to work, set up meets, and organize the next round of supplies. Before she moved in, I’d occasionally work from home, crunch numbers from the comfort of my couch, but having her here made it seem like I was doing something wrong. Technically, I was. But it had never even occurred to me until there was a threat of someone knowing my business. Plus, being out and about meant I was able to keep my eyes and ears open. I needed to know if any more suspicions were raised or if PJ was still talking shit.

So, for two weeks we tiptoed around each other. Every night I’d come home, and she’d be in her room, wearing my clothes, under the covers but wide awake. I’d bring her food. We’d eat in silence. And every night, I’d go to sleep wondering what the hell was going on in her pretty little head, and why it was I could never get the nerve to ask.

*

I sat down on the couch and turned on my laptop. Then I started the rounds of passwords needed to actually gain access to anything. Tiny had set it up. See—Tiny wasn’t the toughest guy on the team. He sure as shit wasn’t the strongest or the fittest. I chose him as my right-hand because he was smart, especially with technology. But above that, I chose him because he was loyal, because he had the same morals and ethics as I did. Even at sixteen, when I first met him peddling drugs at a corner store, I could tell. I knew, not because he was dealing drugs, but because he chased after some thug who’d snatched an old lady’s purse. He ended up sitting on the dude’s stomach and bitch-slapping his face until he apologized to her. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen.

Tiny—he was a good man.

He was also my best friend.

After typing in my first password, Voi siete il mio sole, and repeating that same action about thirty times, I finally logged into the site. Sure it seemed dumb to keep our business online, but Tiny had found a way to keep it completely hidden. To anyone who’d, by some miracle, actually get into the site, we’d just be a bunch of too-bored middle schoolers exchanging online gaming scores and trading weapons and whatnot. But what it really was, was a way for the peddlers to let me know what they’d sold in the last twenty-four hours. I clicked on PJ’s profile first, like I’d started to do every time I logged on, hoping he’d be selling below target, so I had an excuse to let him go. Unfortunately, PJ was our best seller—which was why I couldn’t straight up off him. Against his best-laid plans, things had calmed down a little since the day after Bailey had shot Pauly. Though he kept on about it, adamant that she was still around. “Why the f*ck would he take me home instead of letting me watch? Hell, I would have done it for him,” he’d told anyone that’d listen.

I wanted him gone, and by gone, I meant the Pauly type gone.

Time.

I just needed time.

When all this blew over, and she was far away, I’d deal with him then.