Page 65 of Love & Vendettas

Standing, I pull a pre-rolled blunt from my pocket and light it up. I take a few puffs as I walk to the door and then turn back to see him bleeding out.

“Rest in peace, li’l homie.”

He gurgles his reply, and although I can’t attest to it, I’m sure it sounds a lot like, “Fuck you,” over the blood gurgling up out of his mouth.

Laughing, I say, “Yeah, tell Satan that when you see him, bitch.”

I toss the blunt over my shoulder, close the door, and head out.

I jog out of the warehouse and hop into the car that’s pulled around to the front.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dial Parker.

“Wassup?”

“I need the cleanup crew.”

“They’re half a block away.”

I end the call, and as we pull out of the parking lot, I see two black vans pull in.

“Home?” Ghalen asks.

“Yeah. I need to head to Zayn’s banquet and squeeze my woman.”

Ghalen chuckles. “You a cold muthafucka.”

“Nah. It’s all about protecting my family. It’s all in a day’s work, G.”

30 – ZAIRE – UP IN FLAMES

It’s Saturday morning, and I’m tired as hell after the last several hours of losing Bayleigh, finding Bayleigh, and raining terror down on my enemies.

I’m not a fool, though. I’ve been doing nothing but thinking about Terran’s statement since last night.

Terran was a small player, a little fish in the big ocean.

Who the fuck was really behind that assault on my family?

I wake up in a pool of sweat, and my chest is heaving. I never have nightmares, not after a kill or before one.

This one stemmed from Bayleigh being kidnapped. I pull my hand down my face and turn to see her lying peacefully beside me.

I’d take a thousand nightmares if it would give her a peaceful night’s rest. I was afraid that she would be plagued by nightmares after what she went through, but she’s not.

It was my fear of losing her and knowing that I’d failed to keep her safe that had me having nightmares.

I grab her hip and tug her closer to me.

She rolls over and mumbles something in her sleep. I release her, get out of bed, and start removing the sheets from my side of the bed.

By the time I get to the foot of the bed, she mumbles, “What’re you doing?” in a sleepy voice. At the same time, she reaches toward my side of the bed and instantly draws back, concern showing on her face.

“What’s that?”

“Sweat.”

Confusion etches itself on the planes of her face as I step into our large walk-in, double closets. I pass through the dressing area and head straight for the bathroom. I take a quick shower and come out again.

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