Page 6 of When Sinners Fall
“Listen up, Poe. I'm not doing it no more. I've got dirt on Elias, and you two are taking that fallout.” Dense fuck dares lean back in his seat, smirking about something. “Where the hell did that name come from, anyway? Poe?”
Knox keeps looking at him. “You clearly don't have the intelligence level needed to understand the answer, Tyrone.”
“Fuck off outta my club.”
That's not what you say to the likes of us.
And I am done.
Five strides and I’m hauling him out of his seat, one hand slamming his head into the wall repeatedly to stop this shit before it escalates. He goes limp after the fourth hit, drops his ass to the floor and tries crawling to get away from me. I follow the trail of blood leaking out of his face, then start helping him on his way to his own damn safe in the next room over.
Three girls scatter as we hit the hallways, a blonde one hot enough that I give her a half smile on the way. Doesn't stop me stamping down hard on Tyrone's legs though, and I still keep pushing his sorry ass straight where he doesn’t want to go. If he thinks that having something on Elias is stopping a thing, he's wrong. That Cortez is dead.
I'm far from it.
“Code,” grumbles out of me as Knox sweeps towards the back of the room. He lifts the painting on the wall and tosses it at the floor, exposing the safe. “Now.”
Blood and spittle tumble out of Tyrone’s mouth, followed by gargled numbers that Knox gets on with inputting. I start hauling again, unsure if cutting his hand off is useful or not no matter how much I’m inclined to. Two hundred and twenty pounds of male gets pinned on the wall, his hand moved to where it needs to be on the scanner, and I wait for those locks to disengage.
Don’t know how much money Knox takes out of the safe while Tyrone watches him empty it. Don’t care, either. It doesn’t mean that much to any of us. It’s just the fucking principle that needs explaining; we can, and will, make our point felt. If it were up to me, he’d be dead, and we'd take this whore house over. It’s not. Wasn’t when we walked in the room under Abel’s direction, and never will be if Knox is sent in with me. He’s lucky I wasn't on my own this time. He won’t be next time.
A black bag full of Tyrone’s profit in his hand, and Knox starts talking to the battered body sprawled out beneath us. More words about loyalty and obligations. More talk about the fact that next time he won’t be here to keep the peace. I chuckle lowly, letting my own menace sound heavy enough that he really does get the point, and then I let Knox leave.
I stare for a few more minutes, emphasising the empty space and the threat of me in it. He writhes about, trying to work out which bit of him is broken. It's his knee. Maybe his cheek, too. Either way, this is the way I keep us all safe from attack. Any threat is disabled before problems really show their face. I learnt that lesson long ago. “Let's not have this goddamn talk again.”
Knox is out on the sidewalk when I get to him, sharp eyes scanning the downtown streets and passing evening traffic. He checks his watch and looks at me as I wipe my bloodied hands on my black shirt. “I need to talk to you. Be at your place by nine thirty,” he says. “And deal with your face. It wasn't just on your hands.”
We start walking to his car, and I clean up as I listen to him talk about some shit that doesn’t involve me. I’m about to comment on that when I notice a blonde woman on the far side of the street.
Fuck, that's nice.
I watch her walking, keep staring at that fine ass as she crosses through traffic like she doesn’t give a damn for its existence. Her whole aura makes me take a good look at everything on offer as she starts heading our way. Sharp blue heels on her feet, shapely as hell legs leading upwards under that business suit. It isn’t until I get up to her face that I near fucking stop in surprise. She’s talking on her phone, letting lips I used to know well mouth out some kind of argument.
Wren Bird.
“Dante?” I’m not listening to Knox. I’m fucking astounded as I keep moving slowly. Little girl got all grown up. “You listening to me?”
I try checking back in with whatever the hell Knox is talking about, but I’m too invested in memories and thoughts that I shouldn’t be thinking. And then she looks up to weave her way through oncoming people. It’s about five seconds that go by in slow motion for me. She keeps talking, keeps frowning, and eventually locks those green eyes on mine for one of those seconds. Damn. I don’t think I’m even breathing. Just looking, reminiscing, letting what has become hard and rage-filled lull in a moment of sheer fucking beauty.
It’s over before I know it, and I’m trying to get my head back in gear rather than think about a life long ago. Can’t help myself looking back at her, though, as she ducks past some guys and disappears around a corner. Can’t help licking my lips, either.
“Dante? What the hell is wrong with you?”
I look back at him. “What?”
He laughs at me and looks back up the sidewalk she went down. “More pussy?”
I frown and try shaking myself out of whatever I’m thinking. “Yeah.” Although, that woman is far from what I consider pussy. Wasn’t then. Isn’t now, either.
“Do I need to start again?” he says as we get to his car.
I nod and turn to face the direction she left in, knowing damn well the last thing I need is her walking back towards me. For her sake. Not mine. Thankfully Knox says he’s found something on Jackson Reed. My attention snaps back to him, a scowl firmly lodged back on a face that turned soft for a few beats.
“I can’t get into it now, but at yours later, yeah? Nine thirty.”
I don’t know whether it’s the thought of Wren, of the past, but I let him slide into his car before arguing the point. He pulls away while I’m contemplating why the hell I just let him leave with that information instead of telling me now. It's then that I notice I’m still staring at a goddamn corner of a building.
Something slams into me. I immediately shove back at it, sending some dick crashing to the ground. He tries glaring from down there until he notices who I am. One brow arches on my face, tongue rolling over my lips at the potential of a fight about space around me. It doesn’t go any further than him picking himself up and apologising for his mistake. Damn right.
