Page 91 of Alpha Bait

Bed-Stuy

RICH

Gail warned her son. I'd expected that after running into her. She couldn't trust me to put an end to the violence that her son had begun and she was correct not to. I'd traced Jamal for a week. Each day, I woke up, read the last messages I'd exchanged with Indie and my heart ached for her. I'd retrieved my brother's fraternity ring and I wore it around my neck. The gold burned a hole in my chest each day that passed without vengeance.

My aunt Bryn leaked the last bit of information I'd needed to find out Jamal's new location. He'd been foolish, and he hadn't bothered to leave the city, instead opting to hide out in Brooklyn. I suppose the idea of a billionaire hiding in Brooklyn might have seemed foolproof to him. He was the sort of man that required a certain amount of luxury, and even I have to admit, I didn't believe at first that he could handle hiding in a small studio in Bed-Stuy.

My sources were accurate, I knew that much. Jamal tried to hide, but he would not be able to hide forever. Armageddon would come for him. I would come for him.

I kept my plans secret, which proved no challenge. Everyone that I would have confided in had been killed by Jamal's hand either directly or indirectly. I remembered so many months ago when I had begged him to put the fighting aside. My brother and I had discussed an end. We'd been willing.

Perhaps we have been too unrelenting to admit our father's guilt. Perhaps our own egos had gotten in the way of peace. Fighting could only end in death. And there was nothing sweet or romantic about it. Death wasn't a release, but a prison that surrounded me. I couldn't bear to lose anyone else.

To track Jamal at his new place without detection, I had to behave like someone other than myself. I took the subway for the first time in my life.

I dressed in simple clothing, picked by my assistant for the sole purpose of allowing me to blend in. There was no Prada, no luxurious wool or cotton, just a pair of denim jeans and a T-shirt. The t-shirt itched.

I have to admit, it was an outfit combination that I had never worn a day in my life. The clothing felt distinctly comfortable, almost too comfortable.

Following the lead of everyone around me I loaded up just enough money on my metro card to take me to Brooklyn I got onto the subway and waited. I preferred to stand, and although I did not want to hold on to the greasy metal rails where so many hands had previously passed, I found myself unable to balance on my own.

I memorized the directions to Jamal's place. I exited the subway and walked a few blocks west before turning north. The building was surprisingly unguarded. Instead of having my usual men work my reconnaissance for me, my assistant had drummed up a few college friends who are more interested in making a few hundred bucks to feed her information for me. It appeared my increased surveillance had gone undetected.

Or this was a trap.

Unlike any apartment building in Manhattan, at least one where Jamal would've usually stayed, there was no guard no doorman and no sign of his bodyguard's familiar black sedans on the streets.

Perhaps Jamal considered himself so well hidden that he didn't need added protection. Perhaps, he was waiting for me to come prepared to kill me before I could get him. But that would've involved lying in wait every day with bated breath hope that I would soon come through. That option didn't feel realistic.

The tricky part would not be getting into the building, but getting into Jamal's door specifically. I obtained the access code that would at least get me into the elevator, but I expected his door would be locked.

I approached Jamal's door, padding down the hallway gently ensuring that my feet made no sound. His door was locked and I had no plan to get in. I had my weapon and I wracked my brain for a way in, wondering why this was the only piece of the job I hadn't planned...

I had remembered an old trick that one of my shadier friends had shown me at Princeton. Jason Boggart had been kicked out after only eight weeks and had gone on to become one of the top programmers in the world.

Jason told me, that most locks could actually be picked with a credit card. After a night of drinking, he showed me, picking the lock to my dorm room before my eyes. The trick was a longshot, but worth a try.

I was still armed so if it didn't work, I'd only have to get noisier. I was determined to finish the job today. Jail or not, killing Jamal would be worth it for what he already cost me.

And while his mother did not seem to think that he had anything to do with his sister's death, I still couldn't rule that out. My instincts insisted he as involved.

I pulled out my American Express card and wriggled it between the small gap between the door and the frame. The jostling rattled the door . If Jamal was in there and if he heard me, he made no moves to approach the door. Thankfully, the trick worked swiftly. I made a personal reminder to thank that old bastard if I ever got a chance to see him again.

The door opened and my hand flew to my weapon. I stepped into the room. . Jamal faced me. He had been sitting in a chair and I could tell from the look on his face that I had taken him by surprise. Surprise quickly faded once he saw what I carried. He'd been expecting a fight.

He rose to his feet.

"Put the gun down, Richard."

I grinned, "I'm not here to do that. I'm here to finish this."

"Did you not learn from your brother's death what happens to anyone who crosses me?"

"I'm here to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

"Nothing you do will be able to stop me or my plans. You could put a bullet in my head and by the end of the year, your company will have turned to dust. I don't need to be alive to do that."

"This isn't about the company. This is about my brother."

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