Chapter Twenty
Bronson leered at me and stalked forward, repositioning some chunky rings on three of his fingers.
Rafe's smile was sinister, and he rolled his neck on his shoulders as if preparing for a mammoth workout. He was dressed for one too, wearing a pair track pants and a black tank top. His deep brown skin glistened under the sun, his spiky black hair reflecting bits of light; it was almost as if he'd been running all over the school in search of me.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Ioney Mercer. Fancy seeing you here."
Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up.
My stomach was so queasy it was hard to breathe. I dropped my hand to my side, well aware Ray hadn't stopped yammering. It wasn't like he could do anything for me at the moment and I wanted to be as ready as possible for what was about to happen.
"I've been waiting a long time for this moment," Rafe continued with obvious glee. "And I told you, one day Montoya wouldn't be here to help you." He spread his arms to encompass the area. "Now how about that. He's nowhere in sight. Good things do come to those who wait."
Tired of the talking, Bronson cracked his knuckles, his face contorting into a fierce scowl. "It's time to take back what you owe, bitch. We'll start with a beating worth three hundred dollars."
He moved and I reacted. The phone left my hand, flying right for his head. Surprised, he wasn't quick enough in dodging it and it skimmed one of his cheeks, causing a slew of angry Spanish to pass his lips.
"I'm going to enjoy this," he growled and kept coming.
Right, not one of my best moves, but hey, it was better than standing here gawping like an idiot - which I was doing now. What I needed was a weapon, only there was nothing in my vicinity except for the buildings themselves and the chain link fence. Short of gnawing on the wire in the hopes that some of it came loose I was shit out of luck.
Adrenaline flooded me and I made a conscious effort to slow my breathing. If I kept up the fast shallow pants I was bound to hyperventilate and pass out before anything happened. Maybe not such a bad idea, my mind supplied. I ignored it. I was a fighter, and I would go down fighting.
Bronson was two feet in front of me. I tensed in anticipation, and when he swung I ducked. His bulky body lacked speed, his hammy fist catching nothing but air. He tried to kick me while I was crouched low and I flung myself sideways to avoid it. I had the sneaking suspicion he was wearing steel capped boots and I did not relish the prospect of finding out how much it would hurt if one of them made contact.
"Hijo de puta! Fuera de mi camino!" Rafe said, stalking forward to shove Bronson. "I swear to God, you're so fucking useless."
Their little spat gave me enough time to find my feet. I spread my stance, quickly running over every piece of advice Kalen had given me for the unlikely occurrence of finding myself in a fistfight with people way out of my league.
Sometimes you get show ponies who like to talk. Take advantage and hit them while they're distracted.
Kalen's words spurred me into motion; Rafe was all about the talking. He enjoyed creating a scene and taunting was his specialty. So while he was in the middle of saying, "You know what, let's be fair. I'll fight you one on one. How does -" I let fly with a left hook and punched him in the face.
Pain exploded through my hand; my knuckles felt like they were on fire. I resisted the urge to shake my fingers out and blow on them, refusing to show weakness. Rafe staggered back in blatant shock, covering his mouth and nose with both hands.
"Fuck!" he cried, and when his hands came away I smirked.
Yes, I was going to lose, but at least I'd drawn blood. Not everyone could say the same.
Incensed, he spat out a mouthful of red and lunged. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back with the air rushing out of my lungs on a pain filled 'oomph'. I tried to figure out what exactly had happened. My entire face pulsed with pain. I coughed, a distinct metallic taste spreading over my tongue.
Rafe yanked me to my feet by my hair, laughing manically. I hissed as several strands parted company with my scalp and tried to dig my thumb into the pressure points in his hand with no success. He backhanded me so hard I saw stars. I spun on the spot and face planted. Forcing myself to my hands and knees, I had to blink profusely to clear my vision. More blood flooded my mouth and dribbled down my chin.
A hand in my hair yanked me back to my feet. I growled and swung my left hand, hitting him in the shoulder. He winced but otherwise showed no sign I'd hurt him. Grinning sadistically, he pulled me close. "God, there's so much I wanna do to you, but not nearly enough time to do it in." His voice rang in my ears, his breath fanning out across my cheeks and mouth. He was so close I could make out the minute details of his eyes, and beyond that his intent.
I was not going to be walking away from this.
I should have been scared. Weirdly enough, I was only mildly annoyed. After everything I'd been through, I was about to be taken out by Rafe of all people. How... anti-climactic.
Holding me up with one hand, Rafe punched me in the stomach with the other. Once. Twice. Three times. My legs buckled as breathing became a foreign concept. Choking didn't; I coughed and hacked, my throat becoming raw. My stomach was in such agony it brought tears to my eyes.
I tried to rip myself free of his grasp. Pure survival instinct had me forgetting everything Kalen had taught me and I resorted to scratching and clawing, aiming for Rafe's eyes. I even bit his hand when he attempted to grab me by the face.
"Feisty bitch, aren't you?" Rafe commented, holding me at arm's length.
"Fuck you!" I spat.
He glanced over his shoulder at Bronson, rattling off something in Spanish. My heart rate spiked dangerously when Bronson produced a large, serrated knife from the waistband of his jeans and handed it over. For some stupid reason the sight of the blade gleaming in the sunlight had me freezing. I went rigid, fear taking over and all but consuming me.
This was it. He was going to thrust that knife into me and watch me die.
Rafe laughed at the terrified look on my face. "Hey, it's your own fault. If you hadn't been on the phone to your pet Ray, we would have had time for a lot more fun. Guess this'll have to do. Maybe I'll hunt him down afterwards and he can join you in the afterlife."
I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see my life come to an end, funny as that thought might have been. My body tensed in expectation. The pain would be crippling. It would have to be, wouldn't it?
I felt Rafe's body shift. Someone better take care of my brothers and sisters, I thought fiercely, and waited for death to claim me.
Much to my bafflement the death blow didn't come. Rather, something hit me in the back of the knee and I crumpled, hitting the ground with an audible thud. I snapped my eyes open in time to see Ray step over me with his right arm up. The knife in Rafe's hand came down and slashed at Ray's exposed forearm.
Afraid on his behalf, I screamed. Ray didn't even seem to notice he'd been cut open from wrist to elbow. He kicked Rafe in the chest before snatching me savagely under one arm and hauling me up and back. I got a good glimpse at his face in the process and if I hadn't known him so well, I would have cowered at what I saw.
It was hard to describe, and it was so eerily scary it sent shivers down my spine. It was almost as if Ray had vacated, something else taking his place. His eyes were wild, furious, and there was an edge of insanity to them. His lips curled back from his teeth in a silent snarl as his rage broke free.
He let me go abruptly and I fell on my ass. Then, with surprising intensity and efficiency as well as a noticeable lack of self-preservation, Ray attacked. Some of the arrogance left Rafe, his smile faltering under the assault. Even with the obvious advantage and wielding a knife for all he was worth, he looked uncertain.
Heedless of the sharp blade Ray pushed forward, able to deflect most of the blows, and he even dispatched Bronson who made to intervene. With three well aimed punches to the face and a powerful kick to the groin, Bronson was out for the count. Swearing in fury, Rafe redoubled his efforts.
"Die, Cabron!" he screamed, managing to nick Ray in the side.
Undeterred, Ray offered him a feral grin. "You first, motherfucker."
He dodged Rafe's next swing. Stepping up and catching him by the face in both hands, Ray head butted him. Rafe stumbled back with a groan, his distracted state allowing Ray to capture his knife hand. One violent twist and the knife fell from Rafe's hand, an ominous crack renting the air. The boy screamed so loud it echoed and had the fine hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Unsatisfied and wholly remorseless Ray kicked him so hard he flew, landing in an ungainly heap six feet from where I sat.
"You should have left her alone," Ray growled, crouching over Rafe.
That insane glint in his eyes seemed to dominate him; he was beyond reason. So much so that he didn't even register people had discovered us. Emerging from behind a science classroom was Mr. Jacobs followed by three senior students who looked vaguely familiar, the vice principal, and two beefy security guards.
Everyone stopped short at seeing Ray looming over Rafe. Unbothered by the sudden attention, Ray pulled back and punched Rafe repeatedly in the face. The first few times Rafe tried to fight back and struggled for leverage. In the end he covered his face as best he could, grunting and groaning under the onslaught.
"Hey, stop!"
Mr. Jacobs's voice startled me into action. Battling the pain riddled throughout my body, I crawled to Ray. Even when I stopped right beside him he didn't see me.
"Ray." I put my hand on his shoulder. He reared back and punched Rafe again.
"Ray!" I yelled. When he continued to ignore me, I clambered to my feet and clamped my arms around his middle to pull him off.
"Stop. Ray, that's enough!"
I dug my feet in and pulled back as hard as I could. In the same moment Ray suddenly went lax. We toppled over backwards, my butt hitting the ground so hard my jaws clacked together. I gritted my teeth against a fresh wave of pain, more interested in making sure security didn't rip him from my arms and drag him off to the police station.
My gaze darted around as I sought out Mr. Jacobs. He was in absolute awe, taking in Bronson and Rafe both out of commission, taking in my battered face and Ray whose arm was bleeding profusely. He hadn't quite believed me when I'd told him gangsters wanted me dead. His eyes met mine and a grim satisfaction washed over me. He believed me now. And I needed him to believe what I said next.
"He didn't do anything," I said, meaning Ray. "He was protecting me. They tried to stab me."
Mr. Jacobs nodded dumbly, though I wondered if he and I had very different definitions of the word "protect". Specifically it was hard to pass off what Ray had done as self defense.
Looking ready to pull her hair out, the vice principal's eyes bulged as she made her way over to me.
"Protecting you or not, the school does not condone violence." She looked at Bronson who'd actually passed out, and Rafe who was trying not to choke on his own blood. "I have no idea what's going on but it's obvious gangs are at the bottom of it. You," she pointed at me and Ray, "need to leave school property. Now. Consider yourselves both suspended until further notice. I will send both of your households a letter to confirm a time to meet and discuss today's events. But Mr. Santiago, I daresay the end result for you will be expulsion. I can understand self defense. This is not what it looks like."
Ray didn't appear to hear a word the vice principal said. He was still glaring at Rafe, his body tightly wound with barely suppressed rage. I needed to get him out of here before Rafe twitched and incited Ray to start punching him again.
"Mr. Jacobs, call an ambulance for this boy." This boy being Rafe, whose face resembled nothing but a bloody mess.
I got clumsily to my feet and despite the acute pain in my stomach, managed to bring Ray with me. He stood, expression unchanging, and I tried to lead him towards the back gate. Security eyed us like we were about to take them on, their hands clasping their holstered batons.
"Come on, Ray," I urged as he paused beside Rafe.
Everyone tensed when Ray crouched over him. Security released the snaps on their belts and withdrew their batons. I placed myself in their direct path in case they decided Ray looked like he posed a threat. Which, really, he did, but I wasn't going to just stand by and watch him get beaten for coming to my rescue.
He waited until Rafe looked him in the eyes, and his voice was flat when he spoke. "La próxima vez te mataré."
I didn't breathe again until we made it a block from the school, throwing hasty glances over my shoulder like the rest of the TLF would come up from behind to kill us both. Ray was completely out of it, so I took it upon myself to dig his phone out of his jeans pocket. He barely registered I was with him, prowling down the road so fast I was nearly jogging to keep up.
Blood dripped steadily from three separate gashes in his forearm and a dark, wet patch sat just under his ribs. It was the deep one running from wrist to elbow that had me most concerned; the wound that was meant for me. Justice's number was on speed dial and I hit send call, wary of the state Ray seemed to be stuck in.
"What?" I nearly collapsed in relief at the sound of Justice's voice.
"It's me," I said.
His tone sharpened. "Why are you using Ray's phone? He's meant to be at school, and you're meant to be at home."
Ray came to an abrupt halt and I had to sidestep to avoid crashing into his back. "Are you busy?" I asked, ignoring his question altogether.
He returned the favor. "Where are you?"
Beside me Ray thrust both hands through his hair, smearing blood across his hairline in the process. Cursing long and hard in Spanish, he pivoted on his heel and punched the side of a bus stop repeatedly. I stuffed my finger in my ear to dull the racket and moved well out of range. I knew he wouldn't hurt me on purpose, but that didn't mean I wanted to get caught in the crossfire.
"Ioney. What's going on?" Justice's voice was low with warning.
"I'm near the school. Ray's lost it and I don't know what to do. Raphael Hernandez attacked me and Ray intervened, but now something's wrong with him. I mean, he's bleeding all over the place and he hasn't even realized it. If you're not busy, I need you to come and get him. He might need a hospital. Otherwise get hold of Sal and make him come instead."
Without preamble Justice asked where exactly I was, promised he'd be there in five minutes, and hung up. A little relieved, I pocketed the phone and approached Ray like one would approach a rabid dog; with much caution and gentle coaxing. He'd stopped punching the side of the bus stop and was leaning against it to catch his breath, hands on his knees, head hanging.
"Ray," I said, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
He smacked my hand away so violently I knew I'd have a bruise the next day. Rising to his full height he towered over me. That unfamiliar look was still in his eyes and an inner voice told me to tread very carefully.
"Ray, you're bleeding. Can I take a look at your arm?" He reared back, though I made no move to touch him.
"Don't touch me," he growled. "Just leave me alone."
I followed his advice, and when Justice showed up I was sitting on the edge of the pavement twelve feet from where Ray was leaning against the bus stop. The Escalade came to a stop in front of me, Sal's Beamer pulling in behind it. Four people got out of the two cars; Justice, Sal, and two guys I didn't recognize.
"Are you okay?" Justice crouched in front of me, his black shin length coat dragging along the dirty ground.
I waved away his concern. "I'm fine."
He ignored me, his fingertips gently pushing my face to the side to inspect the damage done. Cursing, he let go. "Where else are you hurt?"
"Nowhere," I lied, growing impatient. "Please, just see if he's okay. I tried to look at his arm but he wouldn't let me."
Justice helped me up. When it was evident I was too battered and exhausted to stand on my own he handed me off to Sal.
"Make sure she's okay," he commanded, and stalked off towards Ray.
Worry gnawed at my insides all over again. I pushed out of Sal's hold and stumbled into the Escalade, using it to keep me vertical. Sal reached out to steady me and I slapped his hand away. "No. Make sure he doesn't hurt Ray."
Bewildered, Sal blinked at me like I'd gone crazy. "Why would he hurt Ray?"
"Because when I touched him earlier he freaked out."
"What? Did he lay his hands on you?"
I didn't answer. Instead I cried out when Justice reached Ray, said something I couldn't make out, and made to touch him. Ray reacted so suddenly I nearly missed it. Justice however, took it in stride. He caught Ray's fist mid punch and didn't bat an eyelash when the boy used his free hand to grab a fistful of Justice's shirt right below his throat. The tension in the air was palpable. Ray was looking right at Justice but he wasn't seeing him.
"No, no, no," I groaned.
I was certain Justice would retaliate and that Ray would need an ambulance afterwards. With this many witnesses he'd be forced to re-establish his reputation to ensure nobody else was stupid enough to challenge him. Knowing he would do it only out of necessity didn't mean I was about to let Ray cop a punishment for something that wasn't his fault.
I pushed off the Escalade. They were eight feet in front of me, damn it. If I could just make it...
Behind me Sal snagged the back of my jacket, drawing me to a halt. Justice's hand snapped out faster than I could protest only there was no crack. No pounding of flesh on flesh. His hand landed harmlessly to grasp the back of Ray's neck. I could see him apply a little pressure, urging Ray toward him, but Ray resisted.
Speaking in Spanish, Justice's tone was low and soothing. His voice was gentler than I'd ever heard it, and with excruciating slowness he started to push against Ray's rigid arm at his throat. Ray's expression changed, becoming one full of pain, tears brimming in his eyes. He choked out a reply and Justice continued talking softly.
He angled Ray's head until his forehead was resting against Justice's shoulder. It took a few minutes to coax Ray into relinquishing his tight hold at Justice's throat but eventually his arm went lax, followed quickly by the rest of his body.
The tension leaked out of him and he sagged against Justice until Justice was the only thing keeping him up. Ray brought his arms up to hug Justice and in a move that left my heart aching Justice hugged him back, cradling Ray's head with one hand and wrapping his other arm around his shoulders. They stayed like that for a long time and nobody said anything.
Sal ended up supporting most of my weight with an arm around my waist. I was so overwhelmed by the chain of events this afternoon that I could feel a faint buzzing in my head and a queasiness that told me I would be throwing up before the night was out. My stomach was so tender every inhale and exhale had it twingeing in pain and my face felt like someone had used it as their personal punch bag.
Oh, wait, they had.
"Okay, since everyone else is occupied at the moment, I'll start off the interrogation," Sal said, turning on me with a scowl. "Let's start with the easy question. What the fuck are you doing here? And why does your face look like that?"
I mirrored his expression. I was not in the mood right now. Making sure Ray was okay was my top priority followed closely by making sure I hadn't ruptured my spleen; my stomach really hurt.
"Not now, Sal," I snapped, glancing behind him at the two newcomers. "Who are they?"
"Henry and Alec," he said, pointing at each in turn.
Both gave me matching stares. I quickly deduced they weren't impressed with the day's events, and even less so with my involvement. It took a moment for me to realize I'd seen them before. They'd been with Justice, Gin and Sal at the subway when I'd been caught pick pocketing. Justice had promised he would put me in my place so as not to appear weak in front of them.
I wondered if they expected him to react similarly now. Was it normal for your gang leader to hug his underling and treat him with such tenderness? Was it normal to discover he would drop important gang-related business because a girl he owed nothing to asked it of him?
I was so busy overthinking these things I jumped ten feet in alarm when Ray sidled over.
We spoke at the same time.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"Your arm!" I cried.
He let me look him over, all the while apologizing for shoving me away from him earlier. Justice had temporarily sorted him out by using his t-shirt as a makeshift bandage. In wake of losing his shirt Justice had lent Ray his coat.
"Stop apologizing," I said, running my hands over him. In all honesty I was reassuring myself he was the old Ray, not the scary, murderous boy who'd single-handedly taken out two very capable older members of the TLF. Apart from looking sheepish and fatigued from blood loss, he appeared to be fine.
"Shit, your face," he said in dismay, gently touching my right cheek with his fingertips.
"My face, your arm. How about we get you to a hospital?"
I studiously avoided everybody's gazes as Justice agreed Ray would need to get seen to. His stare burned a hole in the side of my face as I hobbled past him, using the side of his car to keep myself vertical. I knew he was silently fuming, burning with the need to ask his questions and get his answers but uncharacteristic of him, he didn't press me.
Justice drove me and Ray to Destiny Hospital with Sal following in his Beamer. The silence in the car was thick and uncomfortable, and after enduring it for five minutes I caved.
"What?" I asked, shifting in the passenger's seat to face him.
Expression purposely blank, Justice arched an eyebrow. "What, what?"
"Don't play dumb," I snapped, annoyed. "Just ask what you want to ask."
"Fine," he said, his sharp tone giving away his volatile mood. "What were you doing at the school?"
"I needed to talk to someone."
"Ever heard of picking up the phone to call them?"
I folded my arms across my chest defensively, wincing when my elbow hit my stomach. "I had to see him. It was important."
Justice stopped at a red light and scrutinized me with that blank stare. "How important? Important enough to risk your life? Important enough to risk Ray's life?"
Incensed, I lashed out, punching him as hard as I could on the arm. "I never asked for any of this!" I screamed, my voice almost piercing my own eardrums. "The protection detail, and everyone intervening on my behalf. If it wasn't for Kalen I wouldn't even be in this mess!"
The light turned green, only Justice didn't move. In the backseat Ray squirmed with unease. I got the feeling he wished he was anywhere but in the car with the two of us. Justice brought his hand up to my face, using his index finger to touch my lip. It came away red. I must have re-split my lip while yelling.
"You're bleeding," was all he said, and moved his attention back to the road.
Destiny Hospital was boisterous and crowded. The waiting room stank of antiseptic and sick people, something Ray was quick to point out, his face screwed up in disgust. Thankfully people bleeding all over the floor got seen to first and a nurse called Ray's name as soon as he handed over his paperwork. Refusing to go into one of the cubicles by himself, he snagged my hand and dragged me through the ER doors with him.
Four deep wounds and sixty three stitches later, we were on our way out to the parking lot where Sal, Justice, Henry and Alec were waiting. It was hard to say who was holding the other up as we vacated the ER. While I was finding it hard to walk on account of the pain I was in, Ray had gone a bit loopy after being dosed with some serious pain killers. I eased him into the back of Justice's Escalade and pocketed his container of pills, just to make sure he didn't down them all in one go when he came to.
"He's got stitches in his side and his arm," I said to Justice.
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "And what about you?"
When I did nothing but raise my eyebrows, he cursed and closed in on me, backing me into the side of his car. "I told you in no uncertain terms to get yourself checked over too. What, was I speaking an alien language?"
Flustered and annoyed, I barked back, "Do you know how many people were waiting to be seen? I would have been there all night. And for what? So a medical expert could inform me I'd had the shit kicked out of me? Gee, tell me something I don't know."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Justice exclaimed, raising both arms in the air in exasperation. "Grown men wouldn't dare think about ignoring something I said. One girl has wax in her ears and can't seem to follow simple instructions."
Henry chuckled. "She's a woman. They don't follow nobody's orders but their own. Obviously you ain't been around many if you haven't figured it out yet."
"Shut up," Justice snapped, his eyes never leaving my face. I jutted my chin out, a sure sign of stubbornness. "How bad did he beat Rafe?"
His question startled me. "They called an ambulance."
"Of course they did," Justice said, and if I didn't know better I would've thought he looked proud of the damage Ray had done. "Which means this shit isn't over."
He produced his car keys and handed them over to Henry. "You and Alec take Ray to Ioney's house."
Henry arched a thick eyebrow. "Where are you going?"
Justice was already opening the back door of Sal's Beamer, ushering me inside. "To take care of something I should have done from the beginning. Fuckers don't know who they're messing with, and I'm tired of being ignored."
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Justice drove Sal's car and neither spoke except to tell me we were headed straight into TLF territory. And didn't that just invite the warm fuzzies in.
The further out of downtown Chicago we got, the seedier the neighborhoods became; they actually made my suburb look like Upstate New York. We drove past one rundown structure after another - crumbling brick buildings that looked like they should've been condemned, houses with peeling paint and barren front yards, roads and driveways that were cracked and riddled with potholes.
Hanging a left, we came to a stop outside a two story house that had probably been a beauty once upon a time, though age and lack of care had seen it deteriorate. The once white paint had stripped, splintered wood on display in its place. The weather boards were warped, some of the roof shingles were missing, and the front porch creaked ominously with every step we took.
There were four cars crammed into the yard. Three of them had seen better days. The fourth was a shiny Mustang. The bright red car was at odds with its surroundings, and I briefly wondered how it hadn't been stolen. Then I reminded myself we were in the midst of gangsters, and that the car sitting here may very well have already been stolen.
While the houses lacked beauty and upkeep, the neighborhood itself was brimming with vitality and community. Half a dozen kids were playing in the front yard across the road, three women watching them. An old lady sat in her rocker next door chatting animatedly to a younger man who was patting a black and white dog. People were out and about everywhere; on the corner a small store and Laundromat were in full swing.
Sal stepped forward to knock but Justice stopped him with a tap on the shoulder.
"What?" he said, frowning.
Justice focused on me with narrowed eyes. "You do what I say, when I say. You don't question me, or talk back. Understood?"
Trepidation took up residence in my gut as I nodded.
Motioning for Sal to pick up where he'd left off, Justice made sure I was slightly behind him. We didn't have to wait long. In fact, it was almost like someone was on the other side of the door. A guy near my age emerged from the house, beer in one hand, a sizeable hunting knife in the other.
"Well, I'll be damned," the stranger said, appraising Justice with equal parts reverence and scorn. "Justice Montoya in the flesh. This doesn't happen often."
Undeterred by the huge blade being held aloft in his general direction, Justice said, "Where's Samson?"
Obviously inebriated, the guy feigned being hurt. "Oh, how disappointing, you're not here to see me?"
Justice moved so fast I didn't see it coming. Neither did the alcoholic in front of us. Before he could so much as blink, Justice had a fistful of his hair and was stepping up into his personal space. "Do not make me ask again."
"Okay, okay, okay," the drunk said. He dropped his knife, managing to maintain a firm grip of his beer; his priorities stunned me. When Justice released him he dashed back into the house, throwing a furtive glance over his shoulder like Justice might take off after him and chase him through it. The boy returned with his fearless leader.
Though I'd never met him I'd heard stories about Samson del Gato. He was the TLF's equivalent of Justice; he was in charge of an entire group of people and was highly valued within the TLF's ranks. Where the Tancredo family had no idea of Diego's existence, they not only knew who Samson was, but they rewarded his success generously. In fact, the reason we were here was because Diego and Rafe were a couple of Samson's underlings.
"Huh," Samson said when he crossed the threshold to find out who was knocking on his front door. "And here I thought Frankie had hit the bottle a little too hard and was hallucinating again."
"Nope," Justice said, the first signs of anger evident in the way his already dark eyes became one shade darker.
Dressed in a pair of black combat pants and a black crew neck shirt, Samson was an inch or so taller than Justice, but not as broad. His shoulder length black hair hung loose, and his murky green eyes burned with intelligence. "Since none of us believe in social visits, why don't we get right down to why you're here."
"Gladly." Without warning, Justice tugged me forward so I was front and centre. My first instinct was to snap at him to get his hands off me. Then I recalled his dire warning and bit my tongue.
"See this girl? What's wrong with her?"
Samson gave me a critical once over. "Well, apart from the obvious..." he squinted at something near my feet. "You usually hobble? Or does that have something to do with this?" This being my face, I assumed. And I was surprised he'd noticed my unsteady gait.
"No, she doesn't usually hobble," Justice answered. "And my new kid, Ray, doesn't normally walk around with sixty three stitches, either."
Samson sobered in an instant, his care free attitude vanishing. "Sixty three, huh? Was he knifed?"
Justice arched an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"
"Guess not. So, you know who did it?"
"Yeah. He was taken to Destiny earlier by ambulance."
Samson was quiet for a moment, running a hand along his strong jaw. "Then why are you here? Sounds like you got the dumbass who did it. That should be the end of it."
Justice laughed, the humourless sound sending goose bumps skittering over my arms. "No. The end should have been when I warned those little fuckers to stay away from what's mine. The end should have been when that son of a bitch Rafe tried to knife me, and in return I didn't take his knife and shove it up his ass. The end should not have been today, when Ray got sliced up because he was stopping Rafe and that other little pendejo from stabbing her."
"Ah, shit," Samson said, suddenly looking weary. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "What a mess. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say it's Rafe who's found himself a nice bed at Destiny."
"Yes, and he won't be the last if they keep coming at her."
Frowning, Samson looked me up and down again. "And it all makes sense," he said, amusement clear in his tone. "You're a Mercer."
"How do you know?" I blurted.
"You've got that look, same as your brother did. Like you will personally fuck someone up if they come after anyone you know."
It warmed me, to know I was so similar to Kalen. So much so that other people noticed. That I couldn't muster the energy needed to swat a fly at the moment was beside the point.
"I don't care what beef Diego had with Kalen. He's dead, and she is not him," Justice said.
Samson nodded. "I'll have a word with Diego."
Justice's lip curled back in a sneer. "You do that, and while you're at it you might want to remind him. Ray is one of mine." He regarded me for a moment. "This girl, Ioney Mercer. She is mine. So if I catch one of your boys so much as looking at her in a way I don't like, I will fuck them up. I told them before, I would break every bone in their bodies. All they need to do is give me a reason. As for Rafe, he so much as breathes her name, I will kill the motherfucker. Are we at an understanding yet?"
Despite Justice having just threatened six or seven of Samson's crew, Samson was smiling good naturedly. "Works for me. The last thing I need is for a bunch of little snots to go around thinking they can take on Justice Montoya and live to tell about it. I'll set them straight. You've got my word, hombre, nobody will touch you or yours without just cause."
Justice put his hand in his back pocket and came out with a wad of cash. "Speaking of just cause. Rafe seems to think three hundred jumped out of his hand and into Mercer's. I don't know if it's true, and I don't care. This should cover it."
I counted with him. He was about to hand over a thousand dollars. Samson took it and pocketed it not in the least bit phased.
"Much appreciated."
Sal and I turned to leave but Justice had one more thing to add. "I came here to save you from being six men down. Don't let it have been for nothing."
The other enforcer glanced at Justice and I detected a hint of wariness breaking through his lax attitude. He wasn't exactly afraid of Justice, though he was conscious of what kind of damage Justice could do if given half the chance.
Something he proved when he said, "I know we're each other's biggest enemies, but I'd like to keep our conflict to a minimum, along with these fun visits. You continue to take care of yours, and I'll make sure mine jump back in line. They will be punished, I promise you that."
We were halfway home when Sal broke the tense silence. "A grand, really? You just handed over ten Benjamins!"
Justice caught my gaze in the rear view mirror. "Yes, I did. At least this way I know it'll keep del Gato happy. Happy enough that he won't be able to use the debt as an excuse to hunt you down and exact payback. We're going to talk about the fact you stole three hundred dollars from them, too," he said, and I cringed like I was a five year old being scolded for having my hand in the cookie jar. "And we're damn sure going to discuss today while we're at it."
Sighing, I didn't bother to respond. I merely crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him in defiance until he was forced to bring his attention back to the road.