J.J.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I roar into the phone, slamming the door to my office shut.
The sweet taste of the tomato and light conversation with Navy was long gone, replaced with the bitter taste of rage.
“Get your ass over here, Kemp, now.” I slam my phone on the top of my desk.
The iPhone shatters into a million pieces. It fires me off more, igniting a temper I always try to keep tamped down because once it explodes, I’m done. No fucker will cross me in business, beat his wife, and treat her worse than a flea-ridden dog and get away with it on my watch.
It’s the reason Big Enterprise and my name, Jack Jarvis, holds so much prestige and power in Texas. Jordan may think he’s winning the game right now but has no idea how incredibly wrong he is.
I played fair finding dirt on him and demanding the money he’d been stealing from me. I called in law enforcement to have it handled the correct way, but now all the man is doing is begging for a bullet between his eyes. It won’t be one of my men either. It will be my finger pulling the trigger and my face he sees when he takes his last breath.
“Goddammit,” I bellow out, remembering how frail and beaten Navy was when I got her. Hell, the woman wasn’t even wearing shoes. One of Jordan’s men said she was there to work as a punishment and was rarely allowed to wear shoes.
That thought is the final straw that breaks any shred of self-control I have left. I sweep my hand across the desk sending everything flying. The glass vase on the corner of my bookshelf goes next. It shatters in a glorious fashion, soothing a bit of the lingering rage inside of me.
“Get your shit together.” Kemp steps in and slams the door. “Tearing your office apart will do no good.”
He strides to the large leather chair on the other side of my desk and takes a seat, folding his arms over his chest like it’s just another day at the office. The bastard knows it will only fire me up even more. I grab the thing closest to me, which happens to be a heavy-as-shit marble statue I won for Businessman of the Year in 2004, and throttle it toward him.
It flies past him and he doesn’t even flinch. When it connects with the wall, the tip of it busts off, and the wall now has a massive dent in it. And when he doesn’t react, I grow even wilder, grabbing the edge of a bookshelf and throttling it forward. For such a heavy piece of furniture, it doesn’t produce the loud crack I hungered for. The skittering of the books dashing across the floor calm a tick of the rage burning inside of me.
“Feel better?” He quirks up an eyebrow. “Or would you like to continue on your rampage?”
“Fuck off.” I slam my fist into the top of my desk. “Tell me how Jordan managed to get out of custody and flee the country.”
“He has more connections than we thought.” He shrugs, leans forward, and pours himself a tumbler of Jack Daniels, straight. “He’s coming after her. Sent the message loud and clear via this package.”
He tosses a manila envelope on my desk. It slides down to the end where I’m standing.
“It’s not good, Boss, just warning you now.” Kemp takes a long pull of his whiskey. “He means business.”
“Fucker doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,” I mutter under my breath, peeling open the flap of the envelope.
I dump the contents on my desk and should’ve grounded myself for what I’d see. Pictures of Navy beaten, tied up, and bleeding. I pick one up that has the most blood in it and try to make out the scene. She’s spread out on a metal table with a hospital gown barely covering her, but there’s no way in hell she’s in a hospital with the dark lighting of the picture. Her stomach is cut wide open with blood spilling out. I look up at her face, and she’s unconscious.
The next picture is of a baby wrapped in a towel and not cleaned. More snapshots of Navy curled in a ball hiding her face, and the final one is of a little girl who’s probably three years old. Her vibrant light brown hair blows in the wind, her tiny teeth peeking through her smile, and eyes I would recognize anywhere. They’re Navy’s, but not scared and beaten, more like full of life and exuberant.
I let the snapshot of the gorgeous little girl flutter to the desk and pick up the note, unfolding it.
J.J.,
Nice move. You’ve fucked with the wrong man. You took it too far. I was gracious enough to let you fuck my wife, entertaining your little ruse of getting your money. I wipe my ass with that amount of money every single morning. Thought you’d love some good pussy. Yet you took it upon yourself to involve the authorities.
I’m coming back for my wife, and you can kiss your money goodbye. While you’re at it, cherish your empire because I’m coming after that too. This is war.
Jordan
Even his angled script reeks of venom and poison. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing pretending his oil business was the bread and butter when all along it was just a façade.
“He’s one of the head guys in the southern Mexican cartel. The contact point here in Texas. The man has more money, power, and guns than Satan himself.” Kemp leans forward, resting his elbows on the tops of his thighs.
“Why did he play dumb with us then? He had the damn money.”
“To see how you’d handle it.”
“We fucked up.” I scrub my jaw. “I want this house guarded twenty-four seven. Neither Faye nor Navy are allowed to leave. We go to Big Enterprise when we need to, but otherwise, this will be our headquarters to work. I want every last single fucking detail on him. He will not touch what is mine, and if he thinks otherwise, he’ll pay with his life.”
“She’s yours?” Kemp taunts.
I don’t acknowledge the question while stuffing everything back into the envelope. The picture of Navy’s little girl heightens my determination. I only hope I can get the full story out of Navy.
“You are replacing Whitley.” He rises, pours more Jack into his tumbler. “Careful, man. This one is more broken than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
“Kemp, do your fucking job.”
The door to my office creaks open. Navy pops her head in with the slight smile still on her face from the garden until she takes in the state of my office. The tiny glimpse of her true self evaporates right before me.
“Fa-Fa-Faye wanted me to come get you for dinner.” Her hand trembles on the edge of the door. Her eyes, bright with fear and anticipation of being harmed, are focused right on me. My gut drops, and I regret losing my shit. I give her a nod, knowing my words right now would come harsh and cold. She scurries away as fast as she appeared. The aroma of a home-cooked meal fills the office. I can hear Faye singing down in the kitchen to some bullshit Justin Bieber song. Told her last time when she played it I’d fucking fire her without blinking. Can’t stand the puke’s music.
I hear the door down the hall shut and know Navy has barricaded herself in her room. I grab the bottle of Jack and slam it into my mouth, taking a long pull to calm myself down. The whiskey burns going down, doing its job of numbing all of me. I down three more swallows before I set it down.
“You heard her. Dinner’s ready,” I growl to Kemp and storm out of my disheveled office and head down the hall to Navy’s room.
I open the door with ease, taking calming breaths before I enter. The sight before me is not anything I could prepare myself for. Navy is huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth with her face buried in her knees. She’s frantic and scared shitless and all because of the remnants of my temper that she saw in my office.
I take a step toward her and speak in a low voice. “Navy.”
Her head pops up, wild blonde hair whipping around her tear-streaked face. She fights to scatter further back in the corner, but there’s nowhere to go. Her eyes are huge with horror and fear.
I raise both of my hands up in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to apologize for what you walked in on.”
She shakes her head side to side.
“I’ve never laid a hand on a woman. I won’t hurt you.”
She grows more frantic. My words do nothing to calm her down. I step back until I’m in the doorway. I lean an elbow on the doorjamb and run my other hand through my hair. “I’ll have Faye bring up your dinner. Navy, I’m sorry that scene spooked you. I’ll stay away.”
She doesn’t believe me. And why should she? I’ve been nothing but an asshole in front of her, a violent one at that. The only halfway decent conversation was today in the garden. Thought it might be the first stepping stone to bring her out of her fear, and I just went and fucked that all to hell.
“Where’s my girl?” Faye asks when I enter the kitchen. Her apron is sprinkled with flour, and there’s a smear across her cheekbone.
Before I have the chance to speak, Kemp butts in.
“Dipshit here scared her right back into her shell.”
Faye’s eyes go wide, and she’s waving a spatula at me before I have the chance to speak. I glare daggers at Kemp. The fucker knows business stays between us in my office or Big Enterprise Towers. There’s no way in hell I can even begin to explain what happened without divulging too much information, so I shrug coolly, pulling on my suit of armor that protects my real emotions. I’ve refined the practice over the years. Cold and calculated, the way I want the world to see me.