Chapter Four
Declan dropped off the last box of his meager belongings at the shipping company and thanked the woman when she handed him a receipt. He was thirty years old and he didn’t own any furniture. How sad was he?
He gave himself some slack. He’d always stayed with Eric on leave so there’d never been a need to rent an apartment he’d rarely inhabit. Growing up in foster homes taught him to get by with few possessions and he’d carried that adage into adulthood. Eric was the same way. He made a six-figure salary but lived in an average condo complex with little security and no frills. There wasn’t even a pool.
He started his truck and headed for Eric’s place. Declan had passed COBRA Securities’ rigorous requirements and had been offered a job with an astonishing salary and benefits. He was pretty sure he said yes before Luke and Logan finished with their offer. Hell, they could’ve told him he’d be working gratis, and he’d have eagerly accepted.
The physical fitness tests had been harder than Marine boot camp. Noah and Ethan hadn’t been wrong with their description of Dante Costa. The former Navy SEAL was a beast and he demanded the best of everyone. Declan was extremely proud he’d passed the tests. It’d been touch and go for a while and he’d had to dig deep to push his body past his limits. It was then he discovered he had no limits. Costa was that damn good.
As excited as he was to start the new job, he was sad to leave Eric again. He’d planned on catching up after leaving the military, but he’d been recruited to help Noah and Ethan with their mission and then he’d been hurt. As soon as he recuperated, he’d left for the interview. He hadn’t had the chance to convince Eric to move with him, but he planned on a hard pitch the next few days, right up until he drove away with Chicago in the rear-view mirror.
The route he navigated to Eric’s condo took him past the dilapidated apartment buildings where Jamal used to live. Swirling red and blue lights illuminated the area and he slowed when he spotted emergency vehicles packing the parking lot. It wasn’t unusual since there was always violence of some kind in the area, but the activity appeared to be centered around the end unit where Jamal’s mother still lived.
Declan checked his mirrors and executed a U-turn before parking across the street. He waited for traffic to clear before he jogged over. Several onlookers were standing around watching the action. Cops and other personnel were coming and going from Jamal’s mother’s unit. If he didn’t know for a fact Jamal was safe with his aunt in Detroit, he’d have been charging inside like an angry bull, cops be damned. They would’ve had to shoot him to stop him.
He approached a woman wearing a ratty yellow bathrobe and slippers with foam rollers in her hair. A cigarette dangling from her lips, the blue smoke curling high in the air in front of her. She watched the scene dispassionately, as if she’d seen it all before. She probably had.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Do you know what happened?”
She didn’t even glance at him. “Woman who lived there was bumped off.”
“You mean…” He paused, having no clue what Jamal’s mother’s name was or if she even shared the same last name. He had no other guess, so he took a shot with, “Mrs. West?”
“Yeah.” She eyed him suspiciously, her gaze traveling the length of his body. “You know her?”
Seeing as how she tried her best to decapitate him a couple of weeks ago, he sure did, and he could’ve said yes. “No. I know her son.”
Now her eyes were mere slits and she bared her tobacco-stained teeth “You do business with Jamarcus? That boy was up to no good. He was a bad seed.”
“No, not Jamarcus. Jamal.”
The woman’s face softened. “Jamal’s a sweetheart. I’m glad he got out of here.” She took a pull of her cigarette and blew the smoke through her nose. He did his best to not breathe in the toxic fumes. “You know how he is?”
He scrolled to the photos on his cell phone and showed her the picture Jamal texted him two days ago. He was sitting on a swing and though it was a little out of focus, the smile was radiant and genuine. He looked truly happy.
The woman nodded, took another drag, and blew out the smoke…thankfully away from Declan this time. “Good.”
“Do you know what happened to his mother?”
“Just that she was offed. She’d been dead hours or days before they found her. I’m not sure.” The woman shrugged. “She whored out her body for drugs and alcohol, so I’m not surprised. She was killing herself, one way or another.”
He almost remarked that she was too with the cancer sticks, but wisely held his tongue. He thanked the woman and made his way to one of the policemen standing guard. He explained that he was a friend of the family. The cop directed him to a man taking notes as he spoke with two people who looked like they’d be about as helpful as the red fire hydrant a few feet away. When he finished with them, they couldn’t leave fast enough, practically leaving skid marks in their haste. Declan approached before he could interview other witnesses. “Detective Appleton?”
The man turned and eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah.”
“My name’s Declan Elliot. I work for COBRA Securities.” Damn, it felt good to say that, even if the ink wasn’t yet dry on the contract. “I know the family who lived here.”
The detective judged him much the same way the woman did a few minutes ago: with a derisive look filled with scorn. “You know this family?”
“Not the woman who was killed. I’m in touch with the youngest son and the victim’s sister.”
“Yeah?” The detective flipped to a page in his notebook. “What are their names?”
“Jamal West and the sister is LaTonya Stanton. Jamal lives with her in Detroit.”
“Those are the names I have.” He flipped the cover shut. “How do you know them?”
He gave a quick rundown about his association with Noah and Peyton and Peyton’s connection to Jamal. He left out the part about Jamal’s mother bashing in his head. He didn’t want to inadvertently land himself on the top spot of the detective’s suspect list.
Appleton nodded, accepting the story. “My next task was contacting next of kin. I’ll need their numbers so I can inform them of the death. Are there any other family members that you know of whom I should contact?”
“There was another son, but he was killed a few weeks ago in a shootout here.”
“Yeah, I remember that one. It was a bloodbath.”
“Ms. Stanton will know if there are others you should notify.” He hitched his chin in the direction of the apartment. “Can you tell me what happened? Off the record.”
“Two bodies, both sliced to ribbons.”
“Two?”
“One male and one female. We haven’t identified the man yet, but one of the neighbors gave a positive id on the female. The place was ransacked and there were drugs found in the bedroom, but we don’t have a motive yet.”
He almost told the detective that the apartment always looked like it’d been tossed, but he didn’t need to admit to having been inside before. Staying off the suspect list was job one here.
The cop opened his notebook again. “You have numbers for the son and sister?”
He gave the cop LaTonya’s cell number. He didn’t want the man calling Jamal. He’d let LaTonya break the news to him. Even though she’d been a horrible mother, Declan knew Jamal would be upset. He’d already lost his brother recently. At least he had a loving aunt to care for him.
He shook hands with the detective and headed back to his truck. After the unexpected stop, it was late as he drove to Eric’s apartment and the traffic was light. His cell buzzed as he parked in one of Eric’s designated spots. He smiled seeing Jamal’s smiling face on the dashboard screen. He tapped the button on the steering wheel to answer.
“Hey, bud. How’s it going? How are Semper and Fi?”
“Please come quick. I need you. They’re hurting LaLa.”