Page 12 of Ignite
The second I stepped outside; I pulled out my cell phone and brought it back to life. I dialed Davian as I walked off toward my car. “Davian, I’m leaving the restaurant. Did you get everything you need?”
Davian’s voice crackled over the cell phone. “Niles and Van are going to be in jail for a long time. You won’t have to worry about them ever again. I’ll get this recording to the authorities so they can work on clearing your name.”
The old me would have been relieved by that, but I was worried. Even though they would be behind bars, I was certain that Van’s reach would make sure I paid for crossing him. The fear that Van would come after me had never really left me through the entire ordeal, and it returned with a vengeance when Davian confirmed he got Van’s confession. I might have taken care of Van and Niles, but there was still another problem I had to deal with: River. He was another man that couldn’t be trusted.
~11~
River
If I were a killer, which I wasn’t, all of my problems would have vanished if I just let my brother pull the trigger. When a letter landed on my desk regarding the relationship between me and Axe, I thought for sure it was some sort of sick game. But after further research, I found the information to be true. Throughout all these years, how the hell could I have not known? Why had my mom kept this from me? Certainly, she knew about my father’s affair. More importantly, how the hell had Crosby McCall fit into this and why had he sent the letter now? I knew about my father’s dealings with him. They were rivals. In hindsight, if it wasn’t for Crosby, Triage might have never come to be. Everyone had skeletons in the closet and Crosby’s made themselves known. He and his brother Rui Salko got what they deserved—Salko in death and McCall with life in prison.
I had to find out exactly what McCall knew, and I knew exactly where to find him. Brian and Mark were monitoring Axe and Kenzi for me, so making a quick trip down to Atlanta to pay my dad’s old nemesis a visit wasn’t a problem. I grabbed my suit jacket from the closet and headed down the stairs to the parking garage.
The private airplane hangar was quiet when I pulled my car inside. When I exited my car, I spotted Neal making last-minute preparations for takeoff. As I headed toward the plane, my meeting with Axe tomorrow night was raking my thoughts. Finding out that he was my half-brother was a shock, but after today, my newly found information on CMW Holdings would finally erase Van and Niles from my life once and for all. There were still many questions that needed answering, and it appeared Crosby McCall held all those answers.
By the time we landed at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, Neal had commissioned a car to take me to the United States Petitionary (USP Atlanta). The thought of how Crosby McCall came to be a resident of the penitentiary made my skin crawl with disgust. He was a ruthless, spineless man who didn’t care who got hurt as long as he got what he wanted. Although I seriously doubted that Crosby had any real desire to change, I hoped he would give me the information I needed. When the story came out about Davian’s fiancé’s death, I thought Davian finally got what he deserved. But when the truth came out about what Crosby and his brother Rui had done to Gwen McCall, I couldn’t believe that Crosby would go along with faking his daughter’s death to get back at Davian. It was unthinkable. As much as I hated Davian for causing Joselyn’s death, I wouldn’t wish losing the woman you loved on anyone. And when Crosby and Rui schemed together to kidnap Reyna, I thought they had lost it. Crosby didn’t care about causing Davian further pain; he just cared about retribution. But now justice had been served, and there was no way that Crosby would ever be freed from paying for his crimes.
As the driver headed away from the airport, my mind was riveted with questions about how Crosby knew of the relationship between Axe’s mom and my father. Soon, all of my questions would be answered.
~
My stomach knotted and then dropped as acres of chain-linked fences with coiled barbed wire came into view. When the driver pulled into the visitor’s parking area of the high-security prison, I noticed the train of cars rolling in behind him as he parked. I had only been here one other time. I would never forget that day. It was the day my father died. It was the day I had been charged with murder. The scene was etched into my brain, a piece of my past I wanted to forget. To this day, I still remembered the smell of urine and blood as the doors to the cells slammed shut.
The driver waited in the car as I headed to the gray building with tiny barred windows. Two armed guards were standing at the entrance, waiting to check in visitors. I continued through the gate to the entrance. The sky above was boiling with dark clouds blotting out the midday sun. It gave me an uneasiness I hadn’t experienced in a long time. When I stepped inside, the smell of ammonia and rust washed over me. Another smell I would never forget.
After filling out the required forms, I could finally proceed to the next search point. The entire process took longer than I wanted, but speaking to Crosby was worth the wait. The guards didn’t make the process any less uncomfortable with their strict instructions and poor bedside manner. They stayed by my side as I made my way through the hallways, guiding me past doors marked with red signs with white lettering: "WARNING! DO NOT ENTER!"
I was led to a vacant visitation booth with only a three-by-three pane of glass separating me from the person on the other side. The booth was sterile and depressing. When the door opened on the other side of the glass and Crosby walked in, his mouth was pulled into a frown. His presence was commanding, but there was a hint of vulnerability, of frailty. He no longer looked like the man I met years ago. His hair was unkempt and grayer than I remembered. Prison life had taken a toll on him, and his eyes were hollow and haunted. He was no longer the powerful, intimidating man I once knew—only a shell of what he used to be remained.
The chair scraped and squeaked as he pulled it back to sit down. His steely eyes met mine as he lifted the receiver from its cradle. “I knew you would show up eventually.”
Some things never changed, and one of them was his arrogance. I was here to get answers from of him, but to do that I had to play by his rules. “I’m here, so why the letter? Why now?”
The man that I remembered surfaced as he shook his head at the guard standing by the door. Within seconds, the guard disappeared, and we were left alone. In the span of six months, he had obtained enough power for the guard to obey him with just a single nod.
“I’m not blind to what goes on beyond these walls,” he stated matter-of-factly. “We both have something in common. Revenge.”
“I’m not here to play your games, McCall. All I want is the truth.”
His laughter echoed off the walls before he stopped and gave me a serious look. “There is a price if you want to find out the truth”
“And what would that price be?”
“I will give it to you in exchange for Davian Cross’s life.”
He had gone insane. His words hit me like a sucker punch in the gut and knocked the air right out of my lungs. He knew how much I hated Davian, but there were other ways to find out the truth. This conversation was over. “Go to hell, McCall,” I said as I pulled the receiver from my ear, ready to leave.
Crosby stopped me before I could hang up by tapping his knuckle against the glass pane. “Not so fast, Stevenson. If you don’t want the word to get out about how you obtained Triage, you will listen to what I have to say.”
He was fishing for information. He had to be. How could he possibly know about the deal I made? He and Jeb Turner had never met, but his words piqued my curiosity. Pressing the receiver to my ear, I said, “I’m listening.”
“It’s a funny thing. Did you know that you and I have the same circle of associates, namely Jeb Turner? I bet you didn’t know he was a client of mine. He willingly shared some information with me that I found to be very interesting. It’s funny how the police never found the money from the drug deal your father botched up.”
When I heard the name Jeb Turner, I knew he and Crosby were working together. No one else knew where the money my father took from the Chicago cartel went.When I realized how my father’s last request would play out,saying I was horrified was an understatement. The authorities assumed whoever killed my father took it. Trying to pretend the secret was never discovered was impossible. I’d been living with a shadow over my head, wondering when it would catch up with me. After all these years of keeping my secret, it was finally out, and along with Jeb Turner, Crosby was aware of the truth. To think that my father’s last breath would lead to my success.
Taking a seat, since I had a hard time standing, I scraped my hands through my hair. Leaning back in my chair, I put my head in my hands as I tried to process everything.Even in theaftermath of my father’s death, I had wanted to stay far away from that side of the tracks. Drugs were not my deal. After taking the money, I had wanted to hide under the covers and never look out again, but I couldn’t—greed got in the way. As long as people knew about the money, I would always be a target. If anyone ever came looking for it, there would be a trail that led right to me. While confusion and fear were whirling in my mind, I felt Crosby’s eyes burn into me.
The only way out of this situation was by becoming like my father. A killer. My hands were shaking as I held the receiver to my ear, and my face was pale when I looked up at Crosby. “What do you want me to do?”
