Page 3 of Havoc

“For god’s sake, Presley, he was your father.”

“We both know he’d never win father of the year, so why pretend now?”

“He may have had his faults, but he was a good man…inside.”

“A good man whose wife was rifling around in his things rather than calling for help when he lay dead on the floor. You do realise, I’ve figured out you’d had to step over his body to get to that desk.”

She stiffened, turning to me, her eyes wide. “I didn’t want the cops to raid his office and find what they had no right to find.”

“Such as the accounts he kept hidden from you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I smiled, knowing exactly what she thought I didn’t know about. I knew all along about those accounts, I’d found them when I was learning the ropes. That was what had scared him so much.

Henley pulled into our driveway, circling the gravel drop off, and coming to a stop in front of our double doors. We both waited for him to open our door in silence. She entered the house first, where she was greeted by our maid staff, helping her inside where everyone else had congregated. I waited for a minute, and I entered. Everyone looked at me; whispers abound about where I had been, why was I back– blah, blah, blah.

This was going to suck, I thought as I took my place next to my mother and the guests came over to say they were sorry for our loss.

They weren’t, they wanted the top job. This was a networking event, as all syndicate funerals were.

Life is full of things we don’t want to do, the true measure of badassery is making each moment our own and never letting our guard down.York’s words repeated through my mind and I felt my unease wash away.

Never let your guard down.

I saw Naomi grab a handful of tissues as she got into her dramatic act again, and I felt my eyes roll all on their own. My older brother Deacon stood next to her on the other side, but I knew he was truly sad. He idolized Gideon and technically should be taking over, but he was no good. Reckless and childish, because he’d been pampered his whole life. No way would he be taking over.

My other older brother Chance was in prison for something, but I could never get a straight answer which means my father put him there for a trumped-up charge. He’d always been different, one of my favourites in the house, because he spent time with me and Hendrix.

My mother had been busy since the car to here, the dress she was wearing was far too tight, revealing a very ample cleavage and a body only a surgeon had a hand in. The cardigan she had been wearing at the church had been discarded and now, she flicked her makeup brush up and down her unnatural cleavage, leaving a shimmery trail.

Whore.

I could have laughed when I saw a younger version of my mother walk up to us, and from photos of what York had given me, I recognized her as my father’s twenty-one-year-old mistress, Dahlia. My mother had frozen. She knew who she was, because my mother had once been her when my father had been married to Sonora. She seemed confident, a scary move when your only way in just died.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said to me, taking my hands in hers. I could feel her cold, clammy hands, trying to squeeze mine in a sign of authority. I had to say she was well-spoken, her dark eyes telling me she was dangerous to my plans if I let her be. I smirked at her, but didn’t say a word. She moved over to my mother to repeat the action but when my mother turned her gaze away, Dahlia made a beeline for Deacon who would love the attention.

“I hate that bitch.”

“I’m surprised she’s still around,” I told her. “You need to take care of it.”

“You think I haven’t tried, she’s fucking resourceful.”

“Find a way to be better,” I told her, looking ahead and around at the guests. I know Naomi wanted to say something but instead, our guests came through the line to meet us. I couldn’t seem to find Sonora anywhere but I knew she would be here.

After what felt like an eternity, I turned to Naomi. “Where the fuck is Hendrix?”

“You know he was banished by your father.”

“Who is now dead, so where is he?”

“Long gone, where he belongs,” Deacon interrupted. “There’s no way he’s welcome in this place, now that it belongs to me.”

“No, it belongs to me.”

“You’re the youngest, why would it go to you?” he scoffed.

“Because it belongs to the one who takes over the organization and that’s going to be me,” I told him.

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