Chapter Eighteen

Declan considered procuring plane tickets for Kenzie and Jamal and sending them to a remote island somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, where they’d be safe from the threat of two rival gangs gunning for them. It was bad enough with the Eighty-Sixers but throw the Daggers into the mix, and they might be well and truly screwed.

“Declan!” Jamal bolted into the kitchen and slid to a stop by his chair. “Look what we found.” He pointed to Kenzie, who entered the kitchen behind him with Yogi in one hand, her other clenched in a fist.

Kayla, Ethan, and Noah gathered around his chair as she held out her hand to reveal a key.

He lifted it from her palm and looked it over. “Where did you find it?”

She held up Yogi, turning the bear around to show the small hole. “In here.”

“I’ll be damned,” Noah murmured. “Jamarcus must’ve hidden it inside the bear for safekeeping.”

Declan held the key up to examine it in the light. “This is literally the key to whatever the gangs are after.” He turned to Jamal. “Do you know if your brother had a safe deposit box?”

Jamal lifted his shoulders and held his palms out. “I don’t know. He never told me anything, so I don’t know if he had a deposit safe or not.”

“Safe deposit box,” Declan corrected. “It’s a box inside a bank where you put valuable items like important papers and family heirlooms.” The key didn’t look like one, but they needed to narrow their choices down. If he had to guess, he’d say it opened a generic padlock.

“I really don’t know.”

“What about a storage building, maybe around your apartment?” Ethan asked.

Jamal shrugged again.

Noah plucked the key from his hand and studied it. “Did Jamarcus have a safe inside your apartment?”

“Really, guys, he didn’t tell me anything. If he did, he hid it in his room.”

Declan met Noah’s gaze. They both had the same thought. Though it’d probably already been combed over by both gangs and the police, they needed to get inside the apartment and look around.

#

They drew straws to see who would stay at the safe house with Kenzie and Jamal while the others checked out the apartment. Ethan plucked the short stick, so he stayed behind while Declan, Noah, and Kayla headed to Jamal’s former home.

Kayla made a call and learned that most of the Eighty-Sixers were currently locked up on various charges ranging from outstanding warrants to criminal possession to felony assault for beating up Eric. Still, Declan wasn’t taking chances and adjusted the baseball cap on his head. Glasses and a fake mustache—courtesy of Kayla’s bag of tricks—rounded out his disguise. He didn’t want to risk someone recognizing him. The gang had thoroughly researched him to know about his brother. They most likely had his picture too. There was a slim possibility they’d know to look for Noah or Kayla, but they both covered themselves in disguises as well.

“It’s eerily quiet,” Noah remarked as he turned into the complex. Usually, the lot was packed with run-down vehicles and groups of people milling about, and the noise levels bordered on deafening from various locations. The cars were still there, but the people and music were absent. Without worrying about dodging pedestrians or getting capped by a stray bullet, the condition of the buildings was even more apparent. Doors hung off hinges, windows that weren’t cracked or broken were boarded up, and the paint was colorful graffiti and obscene doodles. Navigating the parking lot required NASCAR-like reflexes. Some potholes rivaled the Grand Canyon. The vehicles resembled the condition of the apartments with flat tires, broken or missing windshields, and the predominant color was rust. Many were propped up on cinder blocks. The owners had long since given up on any semblance of maintenance. City leaders needed to step up and condemn the place.

Noah parked close to the end unit where Jamal’s family had lived. Crime scene tape still surrounded the entrance, one end of the yellow ribbon fluttering in the breeze. The stench of rotting garbage, rampant mold, and burned food hit Declan’s nostrils as soon as he slid out of the SUV. Cars whizzed by on the road beyond the apartments, and one dog started barking that set off two more, but the ear-splitting levels of music blaring from apartments was blessedly missing.

Tugging the cap lower on his head, he approached the entry, watching his footing, so he didn’t step on broken glass, rusty nails, or, look at that, a syringe.

“I got the okay to cross the tape.” Kayla ducked under the yellow ribbon and opened the unlocked door with a gloved hand. With her long hair tucked under a cap, sunglasses, and a boxy jacket that hid her figure, she looked nothing like the attractive woman he knew her to be. He glanced at Noah and bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the cheesy handlebar mustache Kayla fitted him with that curled beneath his chin, making him resemble a wild west gunfighter. Declan’s own Tom Selleck-esque stash probably didn’t look much better.

“Holy Moses.” Kayla turned and dry-heaved. “I’ve never smelled anything so horrible in my life.”

“Here.” Noah handed each of them a tactical gas mask with a respirator, like those they used while rescuing Kenzie. “It was bad the last time I was here, and that was before two people had been murdered. It has to be noxious.”

“It smells like they left the rotting corpses inside and closed all the doors and windows,” Kayla moaned as she secured the mask in place. With the built-in comm system, it would be easy to talk to each other while they searched.

Once they geared up, they filed inside. It looked the same as the images that haunted his dreams. His feet moved of their own volition to the spot where he’d come close to losing his life. Though he recalled Jamarcus pulling the trigger, the overwhelming sense of urgency to protect Jamal from the impact, and the searing pain when the lead connected with his flesh, he didn’t remember Jamal’s mother slamming his head with a baseball bat.

Crouching down, he fingered the hole in the wall where the bullet embedded after passing through him. He glanced down at the filthy, worn carpet and his bloodstain, still clearly visible after a month.

A hand slapped his shoulder. “Quit thinking about that day,” Noah chastised. “I certainly don’t want to relive it.” It’d been Noah and Ethan who carried him out and most likely saved his life.

Pushing to his feet, he glanced around the dingy apartment and fought the wave of sadness that swept over him. Jamal had lived the first few years of his life in the filth.

“I’ll take the bathroom and death room,” Noah offered like a true leader. “Declan, you take Jamal and Jamarcus’s rooms, and Kayla, check out the kitchen and living room. Look for hidey-holes or loose boards. Anywhere contraband might be stashed.”

They split up and headed in different directions. The police had already processed the apartment, so drawers hung open, and fingerprint dust marred several surfaces, but there was more destruction than what the cops would’ve left behind. Someone else had been here looking for something. It was either the Eighty-Sixers or Daggers—probably both.

He started with Jamal’s room. It was tiny, but he had a window that looked out onto the busy street. The traffic noise was loud, even when closed. Declan gritted his teeth. They gave him the worst room in the place. Testing the lock, it slid open easily, and he lifted the pane to allow in the fresh air. Turning back to the mess, he frowned. It’d been ripped apart from stem to stern. Jamal’s dresser drawers were tossed in a pile on the floor, and a knife had slit the mattress. Any clothes he’d left behind had been ripped to shreds. No surface had been left untouched. The room was small, so it took no time to go over every inch. When he was satisfied it was clean, he headed to the room across the hall and stopped in his tracks.

It was hard to tell where the searchers stopped, and Jamarcus’s sloppiness took over. Even with heavy-duty latex gloves, he didn’t want to touch anything. Dirty laundry was scattered over the floor, including a bloody shirt that he might’ve been wearing the day he was shot. Every drawer was upended, and the mattress had been pushed from the frame and slashed.

Standing with his hands on his hips, he didn’t know where to begin. The task was virtually impossible since he had no clue what he was searching for. He spotted a bat leaning against a wall and shuddered, wondering if it was the one Jamal’s mother used to bash in his skull. Pushing away his anxiety, he picked it up and used it to blaze a trail through the mess. After ten minutes of searching, all he’d come across was a stack of dirty magazines, a bong, and a switchblade. He was shocked one of the gang members hadn’t pilfered the contraband—specifically the porn. He scanned his flashlight over the walls, behind posters of scantily clad women, and beneath the ratty rug looking for any abnormality but finding none.

“You guys find anything?”

“Nothing in the kitchen,” Kayla answered. “It’d already been thoroughly searched.”

“Here, too,” Noah concurred. “I found needles, empty pill bottles, and enough used condoms to fill a dump truck.”

“That’s nasty,” Kayla griped.

“Tell me about it,” he groused. “You find anything, Declan?”

“No. This room’s been scoured too.” Something made him look up. That’s when he spotted the small nick in a gypsum ceiling tile. “Wait—I might have something.”

Grabbing the wooden chair in front of a desk that looked like it’d been used to snort lines of coke, he positioned it beneath the groove in the ceiling and stepped up onto the seat. The tile pushed in easily, and he peeked over the edge. Trailing the beam of light around, it landed on a metal box. Sticking the flashlight into his pocket, he reached for the container and lifted it out as Kayla and Noah joined him. Hopping down, he placed it on the chair.

“It has a lock,” Noah noticed.

Declan took the key from his pocket and tested it, but it was too big.

“Step aside, boys.”

Kayla removed a small kit from one of her cargo pants’ pockets and picked the lock in less than ten seconds. After he removed it from the latch, Declan opened the lid. Stacks of bills filled the inside, along with several pouches of white powder.

“His drug dealing kit,” Noah guessed.

Declan fanned through one of the stacks. “There must be thousands of dollars, and the coke would bring a decent price on the streets, but this wouldn’t have been enough for two gangs to kill over.”

“College fund for Jamal?” Noah asked.

“My thoughts exactly.” Grabbing a bag from the floor, he scooped the money inside and zipped it closed. Jamarcus didn’t need it anymore. His brother did.

“I’ll take care of these.” Kayla removed the packets of drugs and headed for the bathroom. Soon they heard the flush of the toilet. When she returned, she said, “We still don’t know what the key opens or where to find—”

“H-hello? W-who’s in here?”

They glanced at each other when they heard the voice emanating from the entry.

“Y-you’re trespassing on p-private property.”

“I’ll handle her,” Noah told them. “Wait here.” He strode down the hallway. “We have permission—whoa.” He stopped abruptly.

“Hands in the air, now.”

“Okay. I’m complying,” Noah assured the intruders. “Two men, heavily armed, one civilian,” he told them softly through the comms. “Daggers on both necks.”

“Where’s the other one? You didn’t come here alone,” one man insisted, while the other griped, “It smells like rotting roadkill in here. Give me that mask.”

Declan and Kayla exchanged a look. “There’s an open window in the back bedroom. I’ll go to Noah, and you can climb out and approach from the side of the building. We’ll surround them.”

“On my way,” Kayla said. “I’ll take the bag.” He handed it to her, and she slid the strap over her shoulder before checking to make sure she could cross the hall without being seen. “I’ll let you know when I’m in place.”

“I said, where is the other one?”

Declan headed to where Noah stood with his hands in the air. Two armed men, as Noah said, were positioned inside the doorway with an older woman in a green housecoat in front of them. Her shockingly orange hair practically stood on end, and she shook so hard her false teeth rattled. He thought he might’ve recognized her from the group gathered on the night Jamal’s mother died.

“You’ve got us.” Noah took a step forward. “Let the lady go.”

A burly man with a shaved head and prominent brow ridge shoved the woman, and she stumbled. “Get out, Grandma.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She disappeared out the door faster than a speeding bullet.

“Take off the masks and give them here,” a stocky man with wild eyes ordered in a nasal voice. He pointed his gun with one hand, the fingers of his other hand pinching his nostrils closed.

“You don’t want these,” Declan insisted, trying to buy time for Kayla to round the building. “It’s calibrated to our breath, so all the toxins will instantly be released into your lungs if you put them on.”

“Holy cow,” Kayla laughed in his ear. “That was so lame.”

Hey, give a guy points for trying, he thought. And ha, it worked because the man dropped his hand. The Daggers weren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer. Ha again. He cracked himself up. Both men tugged the edges of their T-shirts over their faces instead.

“You’re not getting out of here alive,” the brawny man informed them. “You might as well tell us what you found.”

“I’m in place,” Kayla reported. “No lookouts. Just the two. Get ready. I’m tossing a bang snap in three.”

Declan settled his weight between his feet, ready to draw his weapon. A loud pop sounding exactly like a gunshot rang out, and the two Daggers spun around and started firing. Declan grabbed his Sig Sauer and ducked behind a wall while Noah did the same. The Daggers turned back around with their fingers still squeezing the triggers. Automatic gunfire ripped into the walls, dangerously close to where they were crouched.

They were powerless to fight back as the bullets kept flying. The shots grew closer as the men approached. Kayla tossed another bang snap and shells sprayed in an arc when they spun to the sound, their fingers still squeezing the triggers. He eyed Noah, who nodded. Jumping to their feet, they stepped out, and when the men turned around, they fired, each taking down a shooter. Kayla emerged through the door, weapon first, and aimed at the two unmoving men.

“Everyone okay?” she asked.

“We’re fine.” Noah shoved the guns away before crouching down to check for a pulse. He shook his head.

“I’ve got a faint one,” Declan announced.

“We’ll put in an anonymous call for an ambulance on the way out of here.” Kayla jerked a thumb toward the door. “A crowd is gathering. We need to make like bananas and split.”

“You’ve been hanging around Kai too much,” Noah chuckled. “But you’re right. Let’s roll.”

Declan had met Kai Costa during his training and had heard all about his heroics. The kid was awe-inspiring, and it was hard not to adore him, as everyone did. He thought Kai and Jamal would get along famously and couldn’t wait for them to meet. Even though Jamal was a few years younger, Kai would be a tremendous influence, and Declan hoped he’d take Jamal under his wing. Having friends would make the transition to a new home and school much easier for him.

Kayla surveyed the exit, ensuring no other Daggers were waiting to ambush them. “All clear.”

After tucking their weapons out of sight, they jogged to the Escalade. Several people had filed out of their apartments when the shooting started, but no one tried to stop them. They’d worn gloves to eliminate fingerprints, and with the masks still in place, they wouldn’t be recognized—not that there were any working security cameras around, or any of the people would even talk to the cops. Sirens sounded, and already doors slammed as they headed back inside. They’d swear they saw nothing and heard less.

With emergency personnel on the way, they didn’t need to call an ambulance. The bodies would soon be found. Noah was out of the parking lot before the first cop car arrived. He pulled over in a gas station and parked behind the building before hopping out and popping the back hatch on his way around the vehicle. Declan turned to watch him open a compartment and withdraw a license plate. He glanced up, noticing Declan’s interest. “In case someone gave the cops our plate number,” he explained.

“I know. I’m just impressed by how prepared you are.”

In less than a minute, he’d switched the plate, closed the hatch, and slid back behind the wheel. He checked traffic before resuming their trip home.

“How did the Daggers know we were at the apartment?” Kayla wondered.

“Maybe they had the building under surveillance,” Noah guessed. “They might’ve assumed we’d go back to look for whatever it is they want.”

“Or maybe they paid someone to call them if anyone came snooping around,” Declan surmised.

“Like the woman they used as a decoy.” Kayla nodded. “Both explanations make sense.”

They did, but it didn’t stop Declan from checking the traffic behind them as a precaution. Noah noticed his scrutiny.

“I’ve been keeping an eye out for tails. We’re clear so far, but I’m taking the long way just in case.”

Having grown up in the city, Declan gave directions, and when they all agreed it was safe, they headed for the house.

Ethan met them at the door. “Any luck?”

“Just a box of drugs and cash.” The money bag was strapped over his shoulder. “We ran into a couple of our friends.” They told him about the Daggers who’d come after them.

Kenzie and Jamal were playing a board game and whooping it up when he entered the living room. They jumped up in tandem when they spotted him, the competition forgotten. Their excitement at seeing him warmed his heart. Before getting any closer, he held up his hands to ward them off. “I need a shower.” He felt dirty and disgusting being inside the apartment, and for the millionth time, he was thankful Jamal was out of that cesspool.

Kayla brushed by him on the way to her bedroom. “I need a shower,” she grumbled, echoing his statement.

“Me too.” Noah took the stairs three at a time.

“What’s all the white stuff?” Jamal pointed at him. “Is it snowing or something?”

He glanced down at his T-shirt. “It’s plaster dust.” From a massive number of bullets ripping into the walls, he didn’t add. “I’ll be back.” Bounding up the steps, he entered his room with the bed that hadn’t been slept in and found a change of clothes. He was running dangerously low. The items he kept at Eric’s condo had probably been destroyed, so he’d need to do some shopping or laundry if he stayed much longer. He hated both chores, so it didn’t matter which one he chose. They both sucked.

He cranked the taps to hot, wanting to sanitize his body from the grime and filth of being inside the apartment. It felt like the scent molecules embedded in his skin and hair. After stepping inside and letting the water cascade over his body, he squirted shampoo in his hand and worked it into his hair. He could never erase the images of small, helpless Jamal living in squalor, his mother too stoned to care for him, his older brother too immersed in thug life to mentor him.

He yelped when two hands grabbed him from behind. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t hear the intruder enter. Fatal mistake—one that could get him killed. Not this time, however.

“Why don’t you let me do that?”

Kenzie’s fingers walked up his arms and then glided into his hair, massaging the suds into his scalp. It felt so good, he moaned, long and low. He let her continue for about twenty seconds before he spun around and captured her startled gasp in his mouth as he pinned her against the marble tiles.

He wanted to go slow and luxuriate in her sensual body, but the stress and anxiety from the gunfight needed a release, and there was no other way he’d rather do it than inside her. There were no poetic words or soft caresses. It was raw, unabashed passion. Nails scored his back, and her heels dug into his thighs as he thrust deep inside and lost himself in her. Minutes or hours later—he had no concept of time—he rested his forehead against hers after the most intense release he’d ever experienced. He had just enough conscious thought to wait for her to peak before letting go. Framing her face, he kissed her gently this time. The humming sound she made deep in her throat had his body stirring to life again.

She noticed because her eyes blinked open. “As much as I want to take you up on your offer,” she squeezed her internal muscles, causing his eyes to roll back in his head, “We’d better get back downstairs before Jamal comes looking for us in here. I locked the door, but I swear, he’s part magician.”

Declan chuckled. The kid was stealthy as a ninja. “How did you slip away?”

“He and Ethan were playing a video game. He was engrossed in the match and didn’t even notice when I snuck out of the room.”

Easing her to the ground, he mourned the loss of her body around him and suddenly realized why the encounter blew his mind. He tensed. “I forgot a condom.” He’d never gone bareback, even with women in steady relationships. To do so now was reckless and unforgivable.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I have an implant. Living in New York, you can never be too careful.”

“I’m clean. I had regular check-ups in the military and recently passed the physical for my new gig.”

“I trust you. I’m clean, too, and I don’t do this often.”

“Shower sex or sex in general?”

“Both,” she admitted. “It’s been a while for me. Work was my life.”

“The men in New York are either blind or idiots.” She was so damn fantastic, she took his breath away. Standing naked with her, he felt like the luckiest man on the planet.

They showered, and despite their resolve to head back downstairs, there was touching—lots and lots of it. After finally drying off and dressing, Kenzie wanted to check her email since BeBe assured them the connection was secure, so he left first. Jamal and Ethan were engaged in a fierce battle in front of the television with lots of G-rated trash talk and laughter. Noah was on the phone, but his raised eyebrow told Declan his coworker knew precisely what he and Kenzie had been doing in the shower.

#

Kenzie left Declan’s bedroom and headed for the study down the hall with a computer to check her messages. She couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from her face. It’d been so unlike her to boldly undress and step into the shower with Declan. Total Storm move.

She’d cornered Ethan in the kitchen and asked him about what went down, knowing something happened at the apartment. He reluctantly told her about the Daggers who showed up and started shooting. She knew after intense battles, men needed to release the adrenaline flowing through their systems, and she wanted to help Declan. After encouraging Ethan to play the video game with Jamal, she’d snuck upstairs and joined him in the shower. She’d made the right call because, oh my gosh, it was mind-blowing. Not even the fact they forgot a condom could erase the euphoria. She was protected from getting pregnant, but the thought of having Declan’s baby made her womb clench. Would Jamal like a little brother or sister?

Shaking her head to clear the crazy thoughts, she powered up the computer and opened a browser to log into her email account. Her mouth dropped open at over two hundred messages. No way could she go through them all. Several had the Pickens Publishing address, and she was shocked to see another one from Jared’s account. In his first email, he apologized. Not this one. Her blood boiled as she read his note ordering her back to work, or she would be in breach of the agreement she signed, and he would sue her.

She hated to tell the misogynistic dolt, but she signed no document that included a provision stating she had to report to work when ordered. It was the opposite, insisting that she wouldn’t return. If he tried to say so, it was a lie. She had a copy of the agreement in her apartment and a backup in her cloud storage.

It would bring great satisfaction to click the delete button, but she thought better of it and saved it in a folder before she did. There were too many messages from Bernadette to read, but the woman didn’t listen when she told her to quit contacting her. She opened the latest one, which was an announcement that Pickens Publishing was filing for Chapter Eleven bankruptcy and closing their doors. It was probably her way of making Kenzie feel guilty, but all she felt was sadness at the many people who would now be out of jobs. The company brought on its problems by not taking a stand and doing something about Jared instead of firing anyone who accused him.

Several emails were from news outlets wanting a quote from her, and the #MeToo hashtag had been used. Word had gotten out. It was a minor victory for harassment victims, she supposed.

An email from a name she didn’t recognize caught her attention, and she clicked to open it. The blood that had been boiling moments ago turned to ice.

You got away once, but you won’t again if you don’t give us what we want. We’ll be in touch—the Daggers.

It wouldn’t have been difficult to find her email address since it’d been listed on the Pickens Publishing website, but the fact that they’d gone to so much trouble meant they wouldn’t give up until they got what they wanted.