Chapter 7: Uncomfortable
“No. No, no, no no.”
Though the table crashing to the concrete floor made a huge din of the room, none of its fifty occupants made a sound in reply. They knew better. When Solomon was in a mood, no one was idiotic enough to piss him off further.
The Aguiler Manor was trashed, but that didn’t mean the family had nowhere to go. Their connections ran through the city like blood filled veins, and no one smart ever tried to stem the flow.
That didn’t mean, however, that they hadn’t suffered losses.
Caesar, of course, blamed Solomon when other gangs took over their corners during their brief absence, and the in-fighting developed into an all-out turf war. The strain pushed both men to the breaking point, and now, Solomon planned to take over his father’s empire.
Just as soon as he killed him.
But he had bigger fish to fry first.
“Say it again.” The young nurse standing in front of him all but pissed herself in fear. Solomon had brought her here to substantiate the rumors he heard, and she was well aware that the bearers of bad news didn’t often walk away alive.
“I...Juliet Brown. She was discharged about two weeks ago. Some Federal Agents came to see her while she was recovering.”
Solomon’s furious gaze never left her terrified face. “And she left with these agents.”
“With one of them...a rougher looking one. He might not have been with the other guy but-”
“Shut the fuck up. I need to think.” Placing his booted foot on the edge of the downed table, Solomon shoved it even further away from him, scattering bits of broken glass through the mess he’d created. First his father and family turned against him and now he had to deal with Juliet’s betrayal.
Solomon had really thought they were past all that. He had done everything he could in the past few years to ensure Juliet feared him as much as she loved him. That she would never step a toe out of line. He supposed he should have woken up to smell the roses when she kicked him in the fucking face trying to run away.
Was it any small wonder that he’d shot the bitch? He’d given her everything the world had to offer and she turned on him. Ungrateful little puta.
He’d never imagined she might have survived all that. If he hadn’t gunned her down, Solomon was positive the Torrells must have. Not many people knew about Juliet, but Jeffrey Torrell was well aware of how much she meant to Solomon. If he got hold of her, she never would have left the grounds alive.
But that hadn’t happened.
The cops arrived before Juliet could bite the bullet - literally or metaphorically - and now Solomon found himself faced with one huge ass problem. If she had gone with Federal Agents, he stood to lose a shit ton. A caveat of keeping the bitch so close over the years was that she could be his ruin. The Aguiler Family’s ruin.
But Solomon wasn’t an idiot. His father might be the brains behind the operation but he was the brawn. Most of the violence occurred at his hands - the police would be after him first and foremost and that was why they were tapping Juliet. If they’d promised her protection she would probably sing like a fucking bird.
But maybe he could use that to his advantage.
If only he could get Juliet back, everything would be right as rain. He’d discipline her better this time - make sure she knew what happened when you turned traitor. He might have to mar that natural beauty of hers a little bit but he was an old pro at that.
Juliet was his. No one else used her without his say so. They’d find that out soon enough.
**
Juliet had never been good at waiting. Her mother had always called her impatient growing up, and that impatience had never left her. One of the worst things about being under Solomon’s thumb was all the waiting. She never knew if he was going to discipline her, force himself on her, or just leave her alone. It was a dangerous game of Russian roulette, and she always seemed to lose.
Somehow, this was worse.
Hank had been gone for four days and no one would tell her what was going on. According to Crowley and Bosh, they weren’t allowed to tell her anything having to do with the more classified aspects of the mission, but if Hank was in danger, she would know.
Not that Juliet got the sense that they overtly cared. After all, they considered him a murderer and a loose cannon.
But what did she consider him?
It was a question Juliet hadn’t let herself give too much thought. Certainly, the man was a wonder in bed, but if she were honest with herself, Juliet had to admit that she didn’t have the most extensive experience in that arena. She’d only ever slept with two men, and, compared to Solomon, anyone else had to be a boon.
At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself.
She and Hank still hadn’t really talked. The import of actual conversation had melted away once they got their hands on one another and now...where the fuck were they?
Sighing, Juliet strummed on her guitar. Crowley and Bosh were certainly more attentive than Hank. They came to check on her every hour or so - but part of her suspected it was just because one or both of them was hoping to catch a glimpse of skin. Juliet, however, had paraded around the cabin in sweatpants since Hank’s departure. As she couldn’t really leave the cabin, she didn’t see the need to get all dolled up.
...Though that hadn’t stopped her from buying a few dresses online.
Somehow, Juliet doubted that women were usually as excited over buying clothing as she was. Simmons’ department had brought her the first parcel of clothing, and, while it was functional, it was none too attractive. That wasn’t to say, however, that she wanted to wear the miniskirts and low cut tops Solomon dressed her in while they were together.
Something in between would suit her just perfectly.
Using the credit card she’d been provided with, Juliet spent what was probably way too much money on her own clothes for the first time in years, smiling all the while. It would be a week or two before any of the garments arrived, but that didn’t matter. She’d gone shopping for herself.
She wondered if Hank would like what she picked.
The moment the thought entered her mind, Juliet shook her head, berating herself silently. She didn’t have to care what men thought of her anymore. That’s what her escape from Solomon meant. Sleeping with Hank to get Solomon out of her system was all well and good, but it wouldn’t do to keep dwelling on him. If she was ever going to move on with her life, she would eventually need to put her strength towards a healthy relationship.
She and Hank were both entirely too fucked up to participate in one of those.
Closing her eyes, Juliet leaned back against the wall with a sigh. She was perched on her small, rickety bed, and she’d been toying with the ancient guitar Simmons brought her for the better part of an hour.
She wanted to compose. Wanted to sing….but a part of her feared Solomon had taken that from her too. Though Juliet had grown up with music at her core, Solomon and his father had warped that love for her. They showed her off like some sort of bauble at every opportunity, thrusting her into situations where her audience was less appreciative of her talent than her physical charms.
Juliet had to remind herself forcefully: That didn’t have to be the end all be all.
She had ended Solomon’s reign over her body - she could purge him from her mind as well. All she had to do was put in a little effort.
Frowning, she strummed a G chord and then a C. It had been so long since she’d written her own music. Where the hell did she even begin?
Unbidden, the memories of her night with Hank washed over her and Juliet felt her cheeks warm. Even though he hadn’t even spent a full night with her, she couldn’t go near the bed without thinking of him. Juliet had mistakenly thought there was nothing but ice beneath Hank’s touch-me-not exterior.
She was dead wrong.
There was fire there - a fire that could consume her if she wasn’t careful.
Juliet was fine with admitting - at least to herself - that she’d left her room the morning after her and Hank’s encounter half-dressed in an attempt to test both their resolves. The look Hank had given her as she waltzed into the kitchen half-naked had been worth the accompanying lecture.
For a split second, the fire was back.
Juliet found her hands working over the guitar strings of their own accord. “Fire…” It had been so long since she’d sung of her own accord that the sound of her voice surprised her. “Fire in you...”
This was what it felt like, all those years ago. When she was young, innocent and believed everything was right with the world. When she was a teenager, the music had just poured from her. It was there constantly - pouring out of her.
She’d almost forgotten.
For the next half an hour, Juliet lost herself in the music. She forgot they were on a mission to bring her ex-boyfriend to justice, forgot years of pain and suffering. Nothing mattered except her, the guitar in her hands, and her newfound freedom. She only took breaks to write, and was surprised when it took her near no time at all to have the bare bones of a song.
When she realized just who and what she’d been writing about, however, Juliet stopped, her cheeks flaming.
Christ.
A knock on the door made her jump, and she quickly shoved her notebook under her pillow. “Who is it?”
“Crowley.” The voice came back muffled. “Simmons just called. He says Compton’s on his way back and we should be getting ready to switch out.”
Immediately, Juliet’s eyes widened and she scrambled from the bed, thrusting her guitar aside. When she switched guardians it was always required that she be out in the living room so they made sure someone always had an eye on her. This time, they didn’t have to coax her out. Juliet all but flew out of her room, her heart in her throat.
Bosh and Crowley were packing up the things they’d brought for the few days they were assigned to the house. Whether out of fear or derision for Hank, they hadn’t slept in his room, choosing, instead, to spend their nights on the couch and armchair respectively. At the speed with which she appeared, Crowley arched a brow. “Someone’s excited.”
There was a touch of jealousy in his tone that made Juliet’s cheeks color. Christ, was it that obvious? Lust had clearly addled her brain. “I just...I wanna make sure he’s not shot to hell. One less man means less protection for me.”
“If he was shot to hell, they wouldn’t send him back here,” Crowley sighed wistfully. “Though that would be something, wouldn’t it?” To her surprise, Juliet had to stop a harsh reprimand that rose to the tip of her tongue. He wasn’t seriously implying that he didn’t want Hank to come back, was he?
And who was she kidding? Two weeks ago, she would have agreed with him.
Less than ten minutes passed before there was a knock at the door and Bosh and Crowley checked their phones to confirm that it was, indeed, who they were expecting. A beat passed before Bosh moved forward and unlocked the door, admitting a tired-looking Simmons with Hank at his side.
Immediately, Juliet’s breath caught. There as a bandage wrapped around his head and, beneath it, the left side of his face was hugely swollen.
“What happened?” The words left her on a frightened whisper and Hank merely scowled, as was customary, before trudging into the room to collapse into the nearest armchair.
“I need a beer. And some ice.”
Bosh and Crowley merely looked at him as though they wouldn’t fetch anything for him if he were the last person on earth. Simmons merely rolled his eyes. “Get him a beer, Bosh.”
The taller man shot Hank a scathing glare before sauntering to the kitchen to do as he was told. Juliet, meanwhile, sank down onto the couch across from Hank, her gaze never leaving his injury. He’d only gone in once. What possibly could have happened? Had they figured him out that quickly? “What happened?” She asked again, firmer this time.
Hank didn’t answer until Bosh handed him a frosty Coors bottle and he had chugged half its contents. When he pressed the cold glass to the side of his head, he winced. “Nothing happened,” he finally revealed on a grunt. “Just a little proving match.”
“Proving match?” Juliet looked from Hank to Simmons and then back again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing too terribly dangerous,” Simmons sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against a nearby wall. “They wanted to test his mettle, and they tested it.”
“By beating the crap out of him?” Juliet returned incredulously. “Just for being at the club?”
“Not just for being at the club.” Hank took another, shorter drag of his beer. “I made a little trouble. Made sure to get myself noticed.”
“You started a fight on purpose.” Juliet deadpanned. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“To prove I’m a mean motherfucker.” Hank leaned back. “Solomon likes mean motherfuckers. He’ll find me soon enough.”
Juliet opened her mouth, then shut it, trying to decide how to respond. While it was true that Solomon did look for henchmen with more brawn and less brains, she wasn’t sure if starting a brawl to get his attention was necessarily the best idea.
“Some new information has hit the streets in the past few days,” Simmons spoke lowly, filling in the gaps for Juliet. “Apparently, Solomon and his father have parted ways. They’re not necessarily against each other, but Solomon’s out to edge into the market himself.”
Juliet sucked in a sharp breath. She’d always known something like this was coming. It looked as though Solomon and Caesar’s already tenuous father-son relationship hadn’t withstood this most recent attack. “If they’re not against each other now, they will be soon.” She pressed her hands together, as she stared at her knuckles. Meals with Solomon and Caesar at the same table had always been like sitting on top of a powder keg that was about to explode. “Solomon’s had it out for his father for as long as I can remember.”
“Makes sense.” Simmons returned thoughtfully, scratching at the stubble starting to come in on his chin. “He might be gearing up to take him out as we speak….which means Hank’s move might have been the right one.”
Right. Hank was trying to get himself recruited into Solomon’s inner circle so he could kill his father and take over his drug empire. If Juliet hadn’t been immersed in this dangerous world herself for a few years, this all would have sounded totally and completely outlandish to her. Instead, she realized just how much Hank was risking.
“Are we sure no one knows who he is?” She shifted anxiously in her chair before looking to Simmons. “If he’s discovered...well, Solomon doesn’t think much of mercy.”
Hank exhaled a long breath, lowering his bottle to drain the last of the beer inside before he fixed her with his dark gaze. “This ain’t my first rodeo, honey. It’s safe enough. I wouldn’t be putting my ass on the line if I thought I was walking into a trap this early in the game.”
He sounded confident enough, but Juliet found herself struggling against an undeniable sense of unease. Of course, she had never gone undercover before, so she wasn’t sure how all of this worked, but to see Hank all beat up as a result of going after Solomon only preliminarily was enough to turn her stomach.
But she knew better than to say anything else. It was impossible to make an omelet without breaking a few eggs - even if she’d prefer those eggs weren’t Hank’s skull.
“I’ll leave you to get some rest.” Simmons nodded in Hank’s direction, “Crowley and Bosh will take their posts outside. You’re sure you’re alright for this?”
Hank cast him an exasperated look. “I’ve had colds that felt worse than this. Get the hell out, Simmons.”
The elder man smirked slightly before bidding goodbye to Juliet and leaving the cabin with Bosh and Crowley in his wake. Within minutes, only Juliet and Hank remained in the room.
The young woman swallowed thickly, doing her best to take her mind from the song she’d just been writing. She knew she didn’t really have any reason to linger - she’d told herself that she just wanted to make sure Hank made it back alright and then she’d scurry back to her room. She hadn’t, Juliet realized, even changed out of her ratty shorts or brushed her hair. After years of being punished for being anything less than perfectly coiffed, she’d reveled in lounging around as she pleased.
At least, she had until that particular moment. The only man who had ever given her an orgasm was sitting across from her and she probably looked like shit warmed over.
“I’ll, um, leave you alone to chill for a while.” She rose quickly, hoping her embarrassment didn’t show on her face. She shouldn’t have come out to greet him - protocol be damned. She could only imagine how desperate this made her look.
“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Hank uttered the words so low that, for a moment, Juliet was certain she’d heard him wrong. She was almost out of the room when he spoke and she paused in the doorway, turning to gaze at him warily.
“What was that?”
Hank merely eyed her intensely a moment before he rose from his chair, dwarfing the living room - and her - with his bulk. “Don’t leave on my account. I’m just gonna have a beer and watch the game. You do...whatever you were gonna do.”
Juliet stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. Was that his socially-inept way of inviting her to watch TV with him? If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Hank was trying to be nice to her.
Her train of thought must have showed on her face, as Hank resumed his signature scowl within seconds. “Don’t get any ideas. I just want you where I can watch you.”
In opposition to the first week they’d been cooped up in the cabin, where he hadn’t wanted her in his sight. Juliet did her best to hide the smile that threatened. “Right.” She stepped forward to pluck the bottle from his hands and her thighs tightened as his sharp, masculine scent enveloped her. “I’ll get us some more beers then. And ice, for your face.”
His mouth softening somewhat, Hank’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he dropped back into his chair. “Yeah, OK. Fine.”
Juliet could feel the man squinting at her as she made her way into the kitchen. She was suddenly giddy, and she had no idea why. Perhaps it was because she and Hank had handled an interaction without going for one another’s throats. Maybe she was relieved he hadn’t been added to Solomon’s long list of victims.
Or maybe...maybe she was just happy to see him. The notion was completely ludicrous, of course. She didn’t even like him - his body and the way he made love to her certainly, but not him. Who in their right mind could like Hank Compton?
It was absolutely out of the question.