Page 5 of Jordan

I disconnected the call and dropped my phone on the counter. A simple shipment of guns. One I could turn around and sell for triple what he paid for them. It was easy money in my pocket. Yet Leeland couldn’t get them to the location we agreed upon without being fucking discovered. Every day I trafficked guns and drugs in and out of this city. He had one damn job and couldn’t do it.

My phone started vibrating again, Leeland’s name flashing on the screen. I silenced it and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows in my living room. My home was on the top floor of the building, looking out over the half of the city I called mine. I wasn’t their mayor, or an elected official. Instead, I was self-appointed after years of building my reputation, not only with the dark side of my business, but with the legitimate one as well. I owned multiple prominent businesses in East Dremest. I had companies in my name, a payroll of employees who weren’t cops, and I kept my half of the city cleaner than any around.

The reason crime was minimal and the unhoused were taken care of was because of me. Not the police, not the fundraising. It came from my pockets, my donations. I took care of those around me and expected their loyalty in return. It was a lot of work building trust and proving to them I wasn’t all bad. They had a sense of security here, thanks to me. If shit went down, I handled it better than the cops did. The power was mine to hold.

Reghan’s voice drifted to me after my phone went off again, but I ignored him, content to look outside at the slowly vanishing sunlight. Soon the city would be lit with fireworks, heralding in a new year.

“Sir?” Reghan asked as he approached. He held out his phone. “It’s Romeo.”

I sighed. Of course, he’d call Reghan when I didn’t answer. I took the phone and pressed it to my ear. “Yes?”

“She might be afraid of the fireworks.” Romeo worried like a mother would over her child.

“My home is quiet. If need be, I can put her in the bedroom.”

“She won’t like being alone.”

“I’ll stay with her.”

“I’d say you’re a good man, but that’s too far.” Romeo knew what buttons he could push of mine before I’d had enough. He got away with more than most. Why? Because he was Malik’s son. A son I didn’t know Malik had until I was at Malik’s attorney’s office for the reading of his will.

“Is there anything else you’d like to direct me to do?” I asked drolly.

“We both know no one can tell you what to do.”

“Is that Jordy?” I heard asked in the background. Only one person called me that and made me grind my teeth together every time he did.

“You know it is,” Romeo said.

“How’s our girl?” Dash asked.

“If you’d let me talk, I could ask.” Romeo let out a breath. “She’s okay, right?”

“Your puppy is in excellent hands. I won’t let her be upset by anything.” I catered to the dog more than I did any person. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for Romeo.

After losing Malik, it took a while to come to terms with the decision I’d made. It wasn’t the first time I’d killed someone I loved. I guessed it was my curse. When I fell in love, I had to eventually end their lives. First my wife, then Malik. They both deceived me.

My son was alive though. The man who had my blood pumping through his veins. I would die for him. Our relationship was strained but getting better. Slowly. That was what happened when I spent most of his childhood not being the father he needed, especially after I killed his mother.

The guilt I harbored, not only because of Jordan but because of Romeo, sometimes kept me up at night, tossing and turning in bed, wondering if there could have been another way to handle things. There wasn’t, that I was certain of. Yet, I took two lives. Well, I’d taken many more over the years, but none of them affected me like those two did.

“You aren’t going out tonight?” Romeo asked. He was a soft spot, a weakness. I’d die to protect him, as I would my son.

“No, I’m staying in. I’m not much of a partying type.”

Romeo chuckled. “You don’t say?”

“You’ve been hanging around Dash too much.”

“That happens when I spend day and night with him.”

“How’s Tristan?” He was their other partner, a sweet man who deserved the best in life. He was also my personal stylist and helped me with my clothing.

“He’s doing good. Do you want to talk to him?”

“No, there’s no reason to bother him. I already informed him I have a meeting with Mr. Weathers next week.” He was one of the local fashion designers I was looking into for new suits. After dealing with his personal issues, he was back in the city for a while and agreed to meet with me. I was a patient man when I wanted to be.

Hartley Weathers had intrigued me from the start with his list of demands for working with me. He had a set of balls. I’d give him that. Not many would tell me how things would go.

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