Page 13 of Hold Him Like Gravity

Saff had half of her money. The guy had the fear of God in him.

All was good.

So I made my way toward my apartment, doing some work on my spare room where my cousin would be spending some time after he got out.

Nearly ten years inside.

I figured the least I could do was make sure his room was nice after that long in a cramped cell he had to share with another man.

So far, I had the walls painted, dresser and nightstands set up, and a mattress ready to be delivered. But the bed it was going on needed to be put together still.

That was what I set to working on for the evening.

Until, sometime around eight or so, my phone started ringing.

Seeing Ricky’s name on the screen, I frowned as I swiped to answer, setting the call on speaker as I tightened up the screws holding on the footboard.

“Ricky, what’s—“

“Rico, get here,” he said, sounding a mix of frantic and slow and slurred.

“What’s going on?” I asked, dropping the screwdriver, grabbing my phone, and getting to my feet.

“Guys jumped me. Think they’re inside,” he said, groaning as he, I guessed, tried to get up. “With Kick,” he added.

“Fuck,” I hissed, grabbing my gun before rushing out of my building.

I only lived a few blocks from the meat shop, so I made it there by foot, figuring I could run faster than a cab could drive.

My heartbeat was hammering in my chest. Not from the exertion. But from something I hadn’t felt in ages. Fear.

When you spent as many years as I had working in the criminal world, working your way up, and becoming the right-hand-man to a mafia don, you didn’t exactly get anxious in many situations.

But the idea of guys jumping Ricky and then possibly cornering Kick inside the shop had my stomach twisting in knots.

I saw the store in the distance, the lights still on, but no one hanging around.

I pulled out my gun as I neared the door, pulling it open, and wincing at the jingle of the bells that announced my arrival.

The cash drawer was open.

And,fuck, there was blood on the counter.

Theirs, I hoped, as I called out.

“Kick!”

I was met by nothing but silence as I rushed through the employee area, around the center room, then toward the office.

“Kick!” I called, louder, a little more frantic.

The office door was thrown open, and I saw the papers that had been on my desk when I left strewn about the floor before my gaze slid further to the side.

Then there she was.

Lying on the floor, her pants unbuttoned, her lip split, and a bruise starting to darken on her cheek.

“Hey, you’re alright,” I said, tucking my gun into my waistband, holding a hand up at her as I reached for my phone, shooting off a quick text to Renzo, telling him to get to the meat shop. “They’re gone,” I added, tucking my phone away as I made my way toward her. “You okay?” I asked.

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