J.J.
“You went home alone again last night, Boss?” Kemp leans back on the truck, crossing his arms with his dark aviators covering his steely eyes.
I drain the rest of my black coffee and toss the cup on the ground. I match his stance, leaning back on my Ford truck. “Last time I checked, you ain’t my fucking babysitter.”
We both continue to stare ahead while holding a conversation. “You gotta get over her. We are worried about you.”
“Again, don’t need no damn babysitters. I am over her.” It’s a lie, point blank. I miss Whitley, and it’s only been a handful of days. She was my companion, and I realize more than ever all this sorrow is over the fact I don’t like being lonely.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Boss.”
All of my employees know damn well how Whitley was my world. I protected her, and she flourished. Hell, they’d been under strict instructions for years not to let one hair on her pretty little head get touched.
“It ain’t like that, and you damn well know it. I just miss her. Worry about her.”
He stands up and pats my shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing. You gave her the world, and now it’s time for her to make it her bitch. A little lady will come along for your ugly ass.”
I smirk and flip him the bird. Bastard knows I’ve always been the better-looking one and hasn’t been able to live that shit down. I notice a cloud of dust rolling down the road; it’s about show time.
“You gonna tell me what you found on this slimy bastard?” I pull down my aviators and watch as our company nears.
“Nope. Can’t wait to see the shock on your face.”
“Bastard.”
We stand side-by-side, arms crossed over our pristine white button-up dress shirts and sleek black suit coats. Dressing the part is always high on my priority list. Gotta dress the part every single day to be taken seriously. A lesson I learned from Preston.
“I am trusting you, man.”
Kemp snorts and throws his head back in laughter. “J.J., you could ask for anything after I drop this little bit of news.”
I turn my head and raise an eyebrow. “Anything?”
He nods. “We could have his nuts on a silver platter if you’re into that kind of thing.”
We face back to the road, the dust cloud getting closer and closer as the seconds tick. Kemp has always been my best friend and right-hand man. I trust him with anything in my life, and I’ve never seen him with a shit-eating grin like he’s sporting now.
Kemp is the techie of our operations, the king dweeb when it comes to technology and codes. Better than any private investigator I could hire. I’m the front guy keeping everything running like a well-oiled machine. Together we’ve proven we are an unstoppable duo.
Kemp knows Jordan has been on my radar for a long fucking time now. Once you land a spot on my radar, the next plan of action is to take everything you have and destroy you.
The parade of trucks roars past us, each of them without a second glance, until the last one. A massive silver GMC truck screeches to a halt, and none other than Jordan Vincentino leaps out. He slams the door behind him like he’s some goddamn king or something. He’s scared. I can sense it. This bastard may be smarter than I give him credit.
I don’t flinch or even acknowledge him. I remain standing with my hands crossed over my chest with my no-shit attitude printed clear for anybody to see.
“Two days in a row. What’s the honor, York?”
Jordan kicks up dirt with his expensive alligator skin boots as he nears me. I shrug. I’ll let Kemp do the talking until I know where we stand on this whole situation. Kemp uncrosses his arms and takes a step toward Vincentino.
I have to give it to the guy because he doesn’t flinch or back down. Kemp is one of the biggest sons of bitches I know. Played all four years of college football on the defensive line for Alabama and is still in the same shape. He could walk on any NFL field and kick ass in his current condition. I have him in the looks department, but he’d destroy me when it came to a fist-to-fist battle.
“It’s time to hand it over,” Kemp simply says.
Jordan throws his head back, places his hands in his pockets, and takes two steps closer to us. The man has a death wish.
“This ain’t no whorehouse here. We don’t simply hand things over. I suggest you two assholes get off my land before I call the cops.”
“Hell, call the cops. It’ll save us time after we get all this business out of the way,” Kemp fires back.
Most wouldn’t pick up on it, but I do. Jordan flinches a tick, and I see the nerves beginning to set in.
“I am going to ask you guys one more time get your fucking asses off my land unless you are here to discuss business.”
That one word fires up my core. He detonated the ticking time bomb inside of me.
“Oh, I have business with you.” I uncross my arms, pull a toothpick out of my pocket, and pop it in my mouth. “But it seems the fact you’ve been leeching off my land for months now is the least of your problems.”
Yeah, it was hell letting the time go by, giving Jordan enough rope to hang himself, but it seems it’s all going to pay off.
“Bullshit.” He shakes his head. “Been warned about you, York, but you don’t scare me, and you can’t prove a damn thing.”
I raise an eyebrow, more than ready to crush this slimy bastard. “Aerial photos beg to differ. Was going to watch you for a few months and let you hang yourself out to dry a bit more, but then I saw the way you treated your wife last night and decided the issue could no longer wait.”
“It’s fucking water. Yeah, pushing the gray area using your water. Fucking sue me.” He throws his arms up in the air. “Anything else, men? If not, I’ll see you in court.”
Everyone’s attention turns to the sound of truck doors slamming. Navy is yanked by her elbow by one of Jordan’s goons, joining in on the conversation. Dust swirls around in the air encircling her bare feet. I clench my fist and step forward. Kemp pushes me back, knowing my patience level has long since fucking evaporated.
“Yeah, Jordan, you’ve been stealing water to run your oil drills, but that’s the least of your problems.” Kemp brings his finger to the side of his nose and snorts. “However, the cocaine drug ring you have your employees running is what we are most interested in.”
Without warning, Jordan turns to Navy and backhands her hard across the face. “This is all because of you, you stupid bitch. Your pretty boy savior here has no idea who he is fucking with.”
I snap. See red. I’m thrown back into a time where I could do nothing when men would slap my mom around then turn their attention to me, abusing me with their fists, among other things. I lurch forward and clutch Jordan’s shirt in my hands, yanking him to me. I spit in his face, ignoring the chaos of his men jumping into action.
“You owe me a hundred grand for fucking stealing water. It’s that, or I’m calling the cops. You choose.”
He rustles around, and I throttle him back until his ass hits the dirt. “I don’t have that much money.”
“Bullshit,” I retort.
“It’s all tied up, York.”
This time there’s no denying the panic and fear in his voice. He’s fucked up. A tingling sensation runs up my spine, and it’s not the good kind. There’s more to this story.
I reach into my pocket, grab my iPhone, and fire it up.
“No, don’t.” Jordan scrambles to his feet. “I’ll pay you back. I need time.”
“I don’t have time, and you’re full of fucking shit, Vincentino. You fucking deal drugs. You damn sure got money.” I don’t make eye contact while dialing the phone.
“Please.”
“Begging are we, Jordy boy?” Kemp asks, knocking him back down on his ass where he deserves.
Several of Jordan’s boys advance, but Kemp doesn’t back down. They do. The mean bastard doesn’t fool around. Shit like this is his playground.
“Payment or prison.” I jerk my chin. “Your choice.”
“Take my truck or anything you want, and I’ll get the money to you next month.”
Idiot. He’s playing me like I’m a fool. Big mistake.
“Anything.” I tuck my phone into my pocket and stride over to Navy. The man who grabbed her after Jordan went down steps back. Smart asshole. We have Jordan right where we want him. He’s out of options.
“Take her. You can have her,” Jordan pleads. “Tired of the cunt dragging me down.”
Navy flinches when I stop next to her. My heart shatters.
“Are you trying to give me your wife to pay a debt and hide a coke ring?” I twirl the toothpick in my mouth.
“Yes. Take her for the month, and I’ll get you the money.” A sliver of hope blossoms in Jordan’s expression. “No fucking cops. You have no idea the shit storm you’ll start.”
“Jordan.” Navy’s lower lip trembles, and tears spill down her face.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, ignoring the pissed-off storm tearing up my insides. It’s the first real reaction I’ve seen from the woman, and it’s because her abusive husband is giving her up in the form of payment.
“Go, Navy. Go.” Jordan scrambles around on the ground. “Do this for me, baby. I love you.”
“Get her in the truck.” I point to Kemp.
I wait until Kemp has Navy safely in the back seat. She goes quiet, her sobs dying off. I turn back to Jordan, who has managed to make it back up on his feet. He tells his men to stand down, damn well knowing we have him by the proverbial balls. They don’t call me the king of Texas for nothing.
I take three long strides until I come face to face with him. I lick my lips, and before he sees it coming, I jerk my fist back and throttle him in the face. Jordan doesn’t go down; he only stumbles backward. I punch the worthless piece of shit over and over until he does hit the ground, but I don’t stop. I straddle him and rain hell down on him. Each punch redemption for his abused and battered wife in the back seat of my truck. He will never touch her again. Jordan may be thinking he’s getting Navy back after a month, but that’s not the case.
I lean down and hiss in his ear. “Enjoy prison, bitch.”
I stand up, dust off my pants, and stride to my truck like it’s another day at the office. I hop up into my deluxe truck and slam the door. I didn’t punch the guy near enough to rid myself of anger. The sounds of sirens are muted, but each second that ticks by, they grow louder. Once the red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror and Jordan is stumbling to a standing position, I fire up the engine.
I glance to the back seat to see Navy curled up in a ball. The bottoms of her bare feet are cut and sliced open. Her skin is covered in bruises. She’s wearing a t-shirt and pair of capris today, unlike last night when the majority of her skin hid under her designer clothes.
“They have all the information they need, Boss. We are good to go.”