Red (Black #2) (4 page)

“You spoke to someone on your last job?” he asks, looking back at my hand. There’s no card there, it’s back in my pocket, concealed from his eyes. I give him a blank stare. What’s it to him if I did? “What did they say?” He never talks to me after a job,
never.
It’s usually a pat on the back, or a paycheck, but never a discussion of who I’ve spoken to or what I did.

“Nothing.”

He steps closer, his face closer to mine. “You wouldn’t lie to me now would ya, boy?” One eyebrow rises in question.

“What’s this about, Pres?” He doesn’t intimidate me, not in the least. He knows it, it just doesn’t stop him from trying. He craves people fearing him. I’m the only one that doesn’t, even his daughter fears him. He snaps up straight and shakes his head, he turns to leave, and just before he does he looks back, back to the pocket of my pants. Then turns and walks off.

Savannah sashays in before the door is even shut, she stands and smiles at me. I know it was her that told the Pres, she’ll play it off like it was nothing. It is nothing, but she doesn’t need to know that. And she sure as shit doesn’t need to run to the Pres to tell him everything that goes on.

“Leave!” I bark at her. She plays it off with a cool smile and steps closer to me. “I’m not playing, Savannah. Leave… go and fuck someone else.” Hurt flashes across her face. She tries to hide it as fast as it was there, I saw it though and it’s too late.

“Baby, I had to tell him.” She doesn’t move, she knows her boundaries when I’m mad.

“There was nothing to tell, don’t make me repeat myself.”

She flinches from the harshness of my voice. “I love you,” she whispers.

“You love yourself.”

“That’s not true, baby.”

“Savannah, do I have to repeat myself?”

Her head drops and she looks back to me, her blue eyes shining under the lights. “I’ll wait baby, forever…” She leaves the last word on her tongue as she opens the door and walks out.

I pack a bag, a small bag and step out. No one stops or even sees me when I leave. Maybe this was what they were afraid of, or maybe that’s what they expected.

I need answers and there’s only one place I can get them, so I’m going back.

The drive was long, it made me wonder if it was worth it. Worth coming all this way to somewhere where I met a man who seemed to know me. That smile, though, it’s stuck in my head like glue. It was like he was happy I was doing it. Like it was expected of me.

A knock sounds on my hotel door. Opening it, I find Sax standing there, his name was on his card. He nods his head and pushes into the room. Walking to the table and sitting down he uncaps two beers, one for himself then he slides one over to me, once I’m standing next to the table. I look at it, knowing I won’t drink it and slide it back.

“Just the same,” he says, spinning his bottle in his hand. The lid is back on the bottle. I didn’t even see him do that, and I don’t miss anything.

“You know me?” The seat screeches as I pull it out, I sit on it staring at this man.

He nods his head.

“I do.”

“How?”

“Work.” He smirks and I know he’s not talking about a normal nine to five job. “Come to this address tonight and wear a suit,” he says standing, grabbing his beers. He walks past me and stops at my bed, looks down at my gun case and brushes his fingers along it. “Some things never change, I guess.” And then he’s gone. Leaving me sitting there wondering what he could be talking about.

I realize I never did get any answers out of him. What he did discuss was brief, but nothing with any detail. I glance at the invite he just handed me and notice that it’s a gala event. I know the price for a table at this place is quite high. All proceeds going to a foundation called Red. I grab my phone and search for it.

Why should I entertain going to this place?

Will it really give me the answers I need?

Red

An organization to help women with addictions. No matter the range of dependency, we offer rehabilitation facilities, group therapy, as well as one-on-one with a psychologist.

Drugs, why would I want to go to a place that helps other people cure addictions and help raise money for that? Why do I feel the need to go?

The phone rings in my pocket, so I retrieve it.

“Savannah,” I answer, she hasn’t stopped calling.

“Baby come back, please.” I hear hushed whispers on the other end. Someone’s speaking to her.

“Put him on.” I hear the shuffle of the phone then his heavy breathing.

“You can’t leave like that, Trace. This is not how we do things. Rules are to be followed.”

“I don’t follow
any
rules.”

“You can’t leave the brotherhood. It’s death if you do.” He’s used that line on me before, multiple times. A fate worse than death, but he never follows through.

“I’m not your property, Grover. You’d do well to remember that!”

“The minute you wore that cut you became my property.” He’s angry now, at me disrespecting him. “You have a week. If you’re not back by then, you know what follows.” The phone disconnects and I realize he’s just hung up on me. I look back to my phone seeing the Red foundation flash on my screen.

It's time to buy a suit. It’s time to start working things out.

“Does it look okay?”

Jake nods his head, a smile bright on his face. He grabs my hand and twirls me in front of the mirror while smiling brightly. He’s been my best friend for five solid years, and he’s here, at my house almost every day. I sometimes wonder why? Doesn’t he have better things to do than waste his time with me?

Surely he could be at home, with a woman in his bed. I know he isn’t shy about fucking, he speaks of it often to me. I sometimes think he forgets I’m a woman, but not Liam. Which is who I think he used to talk to the way he does to me. I’ve learned to take it, hush back his strong language, especially around the kids. He’s good, though, too good. I often wonder if that’s what he wants, a family to call his own. Even though he would never need one, mine is enough for the both of us.

“Does it look okay?” His eyebrows raise in a mocking tone. “If you were not my best friend, I would bend you over backward and make you a gymnast.” I blush, my cheeks are now bright red. He does this to me—often. He knows I haven’t been with anyone for years. That I just don’t have the desire for someone else. Sometimes all I want though is to be fucked and fucked hard. I want that intimate connection, that moment of pure bliss, where nothing else matters in the world just that high.

He knows me too well. Even knows where my vibrator is located, the smart ass.

“Don’t go blushing on me sweetheart, it makes my Jimmy excited.” I smack his shoulder,
‘Jimmy’
is his cock, which he talks about often, too bloody often.

“You better not be saying naughty words all night. It’s a big night, I have to be thinking clearly, Jake.”

He stands straight, his back snapping up and he salutes me. “On my best behavior, madam.” A giggle forms in my throat. Sitting on the bed, I place on my red high heels to match my bright red dress which fits perfectly. It took me five different shops and trying on twenty different dresses to find the perfect one. My body isn’t what it used to be, my boobs are not the same, and my stomach isn’t as flat. I have stretch marks in places that I shouldn’t have stretch marks. Like, who the fuck gets them on their vagina? Well, I did for one. I have to wear undies that suck my belly in. Liam was such a big baby that the amount of skin that I had left over after childbirth hangs over my underwear. So suck me in panties are now my new favorite. Jake tells me I’m beautiful, and my family does as well. I wouldn’t say I’m ugly, not at all. But I have insecurities, ones that weren’t there before I had Liam.

Jake coughs and makes me look up to him, he’s dressed in a suit. I wanted to laugh when I first saw him. He’s never been in a suit before, well that I’ve ever seen. He looks gorgeous, like leave-your-mouth-hanging-open gorgeous. His tattoos that cascade over his body are covered, you can still see the ones on his knuckles, though. He said it’s only for me, and only for tonight. He knows how special this evening is to me. I’ve worked so hard to build this, to help other women, women who wouldn’t have had the chance to survive, or even ended up like me. None of them had a savior, none of them had a Liam Black—no, he was purely mine. He was my ruin and my saving grace all in one beautiful dark package.

Jake’s confidence has grown compared to five years ago, he still sees himself as damaged and unworthy. I still don’t know exactly what happened to him, and I never ask. The scars on his face—he touches sometimes—pull a pained look so deep that all I want to do is comfort him. Except I don’t. I leave him to fight those demons, the demons that only he can fight. And I show him that everything he thinks is wrong with him, I believe there’s not one thing that’s amiss.

There’s no other like him, just like there’s no other like Liam. I can see why they were best friends. He’s talkative, Liam was quiet. Though when he’s angry, the look that passes over his face reminds me of the one Liam used have on the night that shall not be named.

“Okay hot stuff, let’s go and prance you around this thing. Show all those filthy rich men how hot you are and steal all their money.”

“I’m not stealing money, Jake.”

He offers me his arm, so I hook mine through his and we walk to the limo he’s arranged which is waiting out the front. “I know that, but it’s much more interesting to me when I think of it like that. You’re like Robin Hood…” he looks at me, his eyes look me up and down, “…a much sexier Robin, in a red hood.” He ends with a wink and my nerves are gone. He always does that to me.

The gala was not far from my hotel, and I walked the short distance to the party. I found a black suit, no tie, it didn’t feel right to wear one with a white shirt. My hair is styled, something I haven’t done in a while. I’ve kept it the length it was when I first saw myself, knowing that somehow the reflection looking back at me was me. It’s brushed back, the lengths wisp to the end.

The steps are covered in red carpet, and the ladies at the door are dressed in black. One smiles a bit too brightly when she sees me. She asks for my invite then welcomes me. As soon as I walk in everything is red, it’s dark, and the music is loud. I feel it when I enter—the smell the champagne and strawberries—this is not something I should be attending. I spot Sax straight away, he’s not easily missed towering over most with his bald head. I stand near the doorway watching everyone in long gowns and suits talk and drink champagne. This is not where I should be, I don’t belong. I have facial hair, no one else does. They’re all neatly shaven with tuxes, ties or bow ties.