Page 42 of Harlem

A couple of his men make sudden movements, reaching beneath their suits.

“You prepared to die today?” Laredo shifts his aim at one of my father’s men.

My father tosses his hand in the air, and his men comply with his silent command to stand down. His heated stare appraises me, as mine does him. The years haven’t changed him much. Aside from the gray in his hair, my father looks the same.

“Son.” His voice is thick with the hatred that he is attempting to hide.

“You have no son,” I growl, my voice low and menacing. “You are not welcome here.” I keep my gun aimed at his face.

Staring down the barrel of my gun has no effect on my father, not that I thought it would. He’s never been a man scared of death. Neither am I. My father takes a step closer.

“Move one more step, and you’ll be eatin’ a bullet.” My anger builds. “How the fuck did you find me?”

My father smirks. “That, I will not divulge. But I’ve known your whereabouts for some time,” he states, letting the information dangle silently between us for a moment. “And I know all about this little club of yours, too.”

My father rocks back on his heels, smirking, and my fingers flex against the handle of my gun, wanting to pull the trigger.

The son of a bitch.

“You’ve known for a while where I am. So why disturb me now?”

“You leaving years ago put me in a precarious situation. Now, to secure the integrity of the family, you’re going to come home and take your place by my side and fix it.”

“Fix your own shit.”

My father’s nostrils flare. “You will obey me!” he shouts.

“You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, motherfucker,” Salem growls, the tension and anger in his voice palpable.

My father eyes Salem with a look of disdain. “If you want to keep Sage, your daughter and your men alive, you’ll obey my rules, Mr. Crawford. I know all about you, too.”

“Threaten my club again; the only way out of here for you is a body bag.” Salem’s voice drips with venom.

My father laughs. “Look behind you, Mr. Crawford.” At my father’s words, we glance behind us to see more of his men stepping from the shadows, with weapons trained on me and my brothers. “I’m not a man without a plan, Mr. Crawford.”

“And if I don’t comply?” I growl.

“You willing to find out?” He lifts his chin to look down his nose at me.

“All I have to do is pull this trigger.” I take another step toward my father.

He eyes me, unfazed. The walls of the strip club seem to close in around me as I engage in a tense stare-down with my father. His demand for my return home hangs heavy in the air.

A storm is brewing. We can all feel it. It’s one I fear will be catastrophic.

I move another step forward, the end of my gun now inches from my father’s face. I could take him out now with ease, but that would also be a death sentence for my brothers, and that’s not how I want this to end.

One of my father’s men, who is standing to his right, spits at my feet. “You are not worthy of the DeSantis name.”

In the blink of an eye, I shift my aim. Before the motherfucker takes another breath, I put a bullet in his head for stepping out of line. The man falls to the floor, dead. I turn my attention to my father. My father’s face contorts into a mixture of rage and disappointment. It would be easy for me to put the next bullet in him; he knows it.

He smirks. “Like father, like son.” His words fuel my anger like never before, and the room grows colder as the seconds tick by.

My father’s eyes bore into mine. “Because you are my son, I’ll let your actions slide. But it won’t happen again.”

He continues to hold my stare. We both stand our ground. If my father is looking for weakness, he won’t find it. All he will discover is defiance.

“I’ll give you some time to get your affairs in order.” My father looks down at his dead man, then back at me. “Keep him. He’s of no use to me anymore.”

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