Page 53 of Street of Dreams
“I’m afraid for you, Jake. He could have killed you.” Mac’s voice cracked. “Don’t go back there. Please. You can stay with me.”
It broke Jake’s heart to hear the fear in Mac’s voice, but he had no promises or reassurances to offer. “If he wanted to kill me, he would have.”
“I think he would have if your brothers didn’t show up. I’m not willing to take the chance that he’ll do it this time. Why are you?”
“Because. I realized that I’m too important to him. Without me, who’s going to run numbers? The numbers racket is my baby. Not his. I know the books. I have all the contacts. People deal with me. Not him. I’m the moneymaker.”
Mac was quiet as he scrutinized Jake’s statements. “What are you going to do?”
That was the million-dollar question. “I’ll figure that out when I get there. The only thing I know for sure is that I’m not going anywhere without my brothers.” And he knew his old man was never letting anyone leave the house who brought in money. He contemplated taking Ben and running with the twins, but he didn’t need a kidnapping charge on top of his old man’s wrath. He’d figure it out. They were in this mess together, and they’d get out together.
Henry pulled the car up to the curb, and blackness consumed Jake’s spirit. He hated going back to that house, now more than ever. Most of all, he hated leaving Mac.
Danny jumped out of the passenger seat, opened the back door, and Mac helped Jake to the car. “If your father starts in again,” Mac told Danny. “Make sure you call 911 right away.”
Jake sighed. “I’ll be fine.”
“Text me as soon as you get home.”
“I will.”
Mac wrapped his arms around Jake and hugged him gently. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” When Jake pulled back, he saw the fear in Mac’s eyes, and it tugged at his heart. “Stop worrying. I’ll be OK. I promise.”
“Be careful.”
Jake slowly lowered himself into the backseat, with Mac supporting him by the arm.
“I wish you were coming home with me so I could take care of you,” Mac said.
“So do I, but you know I can’t do that.”
“I’ll take care of you,” Ben said from the seat beside Jake. “Put your seatbelt on.”
He smiled at his little brother. “Thanks, buddy.”
Jake and his brothers drove to the house in silence, mostly because of the weight of anxiety suffocating them. No one really knew what would happen once Jake faced his old man, but they were about to find out. Bruce’s car was in the driveway.
Jake’s back hurt, and his knee almost gave out more than once on the short walk to the front door. When he entered the house, shock made his jaw drop.
The living room was in shambles. Glass shards were everywhere. The massive mahogany coffee table was splintered and broken. A lamp had its cord ripped from the electrical socket and lie in pieces on the floor. Dried blood was splattered on the white walls, right next to two bullet holes. More dried blood was pooled on the hardwood floor in several spots and created a trail to the front door, probably where they carried Jake out while he was unconscious. In a corner of the room, Jake spotted the bathroom towel that probably still contained his used condom.
“We didn’t get a chance to clean up,” Danny said, apologetically.
“Leave it.” Jake listened to the quiet that filled the house. “Find the old man. Tell him I’m in my room.” The twins protested, worried about a confrontation the moment he got home, but Jake ignored them and went upstairs. The first thing he did when he got to his room was look in the mirror, something he avoided during his hospital stay.
He cringed at his reflection. A small bandage covered the bridge of his broken nose, accompanied by bluish-purple bruises under each eye. The left one was still completely swollen shut and almost twice the size of the right one. His lip was split, and he had a goose egg on his forehead where he received three stitches. At least he didn’t have any broken teeth.
The second thing he did was the one thing he couldn’t stop thinking about since he woke up in the hospital. He went to his closet and retrieved a box from the top shelf. While he punched the code into the keypad to unlock it, his blood raced with a multitude of emotions. Rage. Hate. Vengeance. And finally, closure. He lifted the 9mm Luger, freeing it from its case. He’d swiped this gun from Bruce years ago, and the old man’s prints were all over it. Holding it filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction. Freedom would be imminent. As he loaded the gun, the ensuing scenario played out in his head. His old man would barge into his room. They’d have words. Jake would provoke him. He’d let his old man get a few punches in, and then he’d fire the weapon. The combination of prints would indicate a struggle for the gun – Bruce’s gun. It would be an open-and-shut case of self defense. He’d confess that Bruce was responsible for the initial beating and that it wasn’t a mugging. Hospital records, the state of the living room downstairs, and testimony from his brothers and Mac would corroborate his story. As for Ben, he’d get Mac’s parents to take temporary custody until he could get legal guardianship. The twins were 16. With no living parent, they could be emancipated. Everything was falling into place.
A long calming breath left Jake’s lungs. He stuck the gun in the back of his jeans, sat on the edge of the bed, and waited.
The door to his room swung open and he shot to his feet, his heart pounding like a bass drum. But it wasn’t Bruce. It was all three of his brothers. That’s when he realized he couldn’t do this in front of Ben.
“He’s passed out drunk,” Danny said. “Better off. You don’t need a run in with him the minute you get home.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Jake fished two fifties from his wallet and handed them to Henry. “Get out of the house. Take Ben to the movies. Get some food. And keep the receipts.”
