Page 90 of Ride or Die
I love how I can go from sexy seductress to chill girlfriend in mere seconds. Living the best of both worlds here with my man.
Little did we know, more danger was on our doorstep.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
DANGER
LAYLA
Music blasts through my mini speaker as I dance around the kitchen, cooking fajitas for dinner tonight, one of Colt’s favorites. I know he’s going stir-crazy upstairs, but I’d rather bring everything up to him than risk him getting hurt coming down. Plus, I’ve found a little slice of solitude in cooking our meals by myself every night. Thankfully, he understands that, so he lets me do my thing while he waits in his room.
My little private dance therapy session is interrupted by a knock on the front door. I turn down the temperature on the stove. I walk over and open it without even thinking to see a large, handsome man standing before me and three angry-looking guys behind him.
The handsome man gives me a devilish grin and pushes past me without a word followed by the goons. With no clue what’s going on, I swallow hard and follow them to the kitchen.
My eyes move around the room, assessing the situation, looking for exits and weapons I could use. My mouth is dry and my heart is racing. I have a bad feeling about this.
His big brooding goons block every exit as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, gesturing for me to sit across from him. I move slowly, never taking my eyes off him, and reluctantly pull out a chair.
I take a seat and stare at the man across the table from me. He has a long, skinny face and his dark hair is slicked back with so much product that it looks wet. He is wearing a deep purple designer suit, and his pungent cologne burns my nostrils. There is an arrogance about him that is off-putting, though he is definitely a man of stature.
I finally clear my throat and decide to end this awkward silence. “Wh-who are you? And what are you doing here?” I ask with trepidation, and his smile widens.
“I’m Constantine Torres, Miss White. I’m here to discuss your arrangement with Williams.” I swallow hard. I’ve heard tidbits about Torres. He is Williams’ main competition. He started off in illegal casino rings and counterfeit goods but transitioned into drugs, bought some trashy nightclubs to run his drugs through, and apparently now is into car theft.
“What arrangement?” I play stupid.
“Don’t play dumb with me, little girl. I know you’re pulling the jobs for Hawthorne.” I sigh, folding my arms across my chest as I examine him.
“It was your crew who shot up the car he was driving that put me in this position,” I sass, and it makes him chuckle.
With an unpleasant gleam in his eye, he leans forward. “I love the attitude. You’re just like the rest of us, so tell me, Layla, how does it feel? To be on the other side after hiding this version of yourself for all those years? And to hold so much power at that. You are enjoying it, aren’t you? I mean, how bad can a good girl get?” His eyes flare with mischief as he tries to provoke me.
Then his demeanor gets more serious. “Your boyfriend was stealing my car, and I can’t have that shit.” He stands up fromthe table and starts pacing around the kitchen. I can’t help but snort out a laugh, and he looks at me angrily.
“He steals your car…so you shoot it up and make him crash it? Completely destroying it. That wasn't smart, was it? You kind of fucked us all here,” I say bluntly. His lip curls with disdain and his eyes narrow at me. I’ve hit a nerve, because I’m fucking right and he knows it. He’s here to threaten me when he caused all this shit to begin with.
“It wasn’t about the car you stupid bitch, it was about what wasinthe car. The drugs are missing."
My eyebrows furrow with confusion. "I don't know anything about any drugs. You sure your guys didn't stop to pick up the drugs after the accident?"
"By the time we got back to the crash site, the car was there, Hawthorne and the drugs were not," he explains, staring me down.
Axel never mentioned seeing any product or anyone else at the crash site. You’d think a car that was shot up and rolled would have spilled out some of its contents. Was Axel the one who stole his merchandise?
"Now tell me, where the fuck did my drugs go? And how exactly do you know who and when they will be in possession of the drugs to target them?”
“I have no idea where your drugs are or who we target or how they do it. I’m told where to go and when. Not who and why.”
He chuckles darkly. “Remember that man you drugged and left in the alley? There was some very valuable merchandise in the trunk of that car too, and he let some pitiful little girl steal off of him because he was too focused on his dick. How does it feel knowing Williams put you into a position that got a man killed for your actions? For the goody two shoes you claim to be, you're responsible for a man’s death.”
I swallow the bile that rises in my throat at the thought of that night I met Bronson, having no clue what we were actually stealing, and now he’s dead because of me?
"Stealing my car is one thing. Stealing my cars full of drugs multiple times, that crosses a fucking line," he spits out.
“Listen, Williams doesn’t tell me shit, no one does, I’m lowest in the chain. Why don’t you ask him? Or did you come here because I’m the weak little girl, as you put it, thinking you can manipulate me? You know you don’t stack up to Williams, so you don’t even try. You really don’t have as much power as they say, do you?” I taunt like the smart ass I am.
