“I'm Riker by the way.” He holds out his hand.
I hock a loogie. Goop drips from his thick, beefy fingers. For the moment, Riker doesn’t move. His hard, chiseled face is a mixture of shock, anger, hate. The astonishment shines through that he has probably never been so disrespected in his life.
“See, you aren't listening to my words.” Riker says, wiping his hand on his jeans. The devil is in his eyes. This asshole could have backhanded me through the friggen drywall and across the street. Yet here I stand.
He makes a weird sound, one that a rider would give his horse. The man kneeling over Jamie, lets up from choking him and stands.
“You got me repeating myself, sweetheart. I mean you no harm. But that disgrace to society is fucking dead, Reese.” He points at Jamie, eyes full of warning. “All I need you to do is talk to Evan once he gets here. Tell ‘em how we all wanna play nice. Instead of my previous intentions of fucking your dead body sideways, I’ve decided to use my brains instead. Right now, I need me an inside man.”
“Inside man?” I mumble. My skin crawls at just the thought of his slimy hands all over me. I can’t blink, if I do, my mom’s boyfriend, the one Jamie snapped and murdered is touching me. A stolen caress here and a quiet whisper there.
He nods, the faintest bit of a devilish smile resurrects those thick lips. My eyes burn from not blinking.
Someone in the background speaks, holding up my cell phone. “Riker, seems like Evan got our calling card. I think he's on the way. Called lil’ missus a bunch of times just now.”
“Well, that raggedy piece of junk,” Riker shakes an electronic device. “This cell phone blocker works when it wants to work.”
He throws it against the wall behind me. I do not flinch.
“You're tough, Reese's Pieces.”
SLAP. The reaction is instant on my part. My entire palm prickles with fire as I place my hand back at my side. There’s a handprint on the side of Riker’s face. He laughs boisterously, yet there’s no tit-for-tat, and I’d pegged him as just petty enough to do so.
“Like I said, Reese, you're a tough little cunt. Got that fire in your eye like daddy.”
My entire body freezes.
“Oh boy, she didn't know,” he whoops and hollers to the benefit of his crew as they all laugh. The bully taunts me, “When you first said it into the phone to Evan, I could’ve sworn I was going a lil’ crazy in the fucking head. Blamed it visiting my meth labs every once in a while. Then Cash heard you saying it to this fucking disgrace over here,” Riker gives Jamie a disgusted look, “while I made certain promises to your stepbrother. Certain promises that I won’t be able to keep under the circumstances. So don't worry, doll. You can be a tough little bitch if you want to. I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm a man of my word.”
“Fuck you! A man? A man doesn't lay a hand on–”
His hand clamps around my throat. My fingers claw at Riker’s but he doesn't squeeze.
“Now, I can’t have a lady telling me what a man does,” his tone is smoother than the finest silk. “Like I just said, Reese, I ain't gonna hurt you. I haven’t even begun to do you any harm. You're the old lady of my new friend. Our mutual friend.”
“What do you want from Evan?” Terror prickles at my spine. Why does bringing my stepbrother into the equation strike me with an unimaginable dread?
Riker’s eyes are bright with interest. “I want him to obtain all of the glory your father once did. Milo was the inside-boy. Evan can follow in his footsteps.”
Can’t be more than ten minutes, but it seems like ages have passed away by the time Evan arrives. Jamie and I are seated on the couch between two rednecks. My friend’s throat is swollen, and the makings of a black eye have begun to swallow his usual cat-like glare.
We're a pathetic, sad sight, donning Avengers pajamas–How ironic.
There’s a knock at the door. It’s just opened a crack, chain still connected to the frame.
“Pass over your guns and weapons,” Cash orders from right behind the door.
A grumble comes from the other side, and then a Glock is passed.
“Give me the gun strapped at your ankle, Evan, I ain’t no dummy,” Cash chuckles.
A snub-nosed revolver is passed next.
The door closes. The chain clinks as it drops from its snug fit and Cash allows Evan to enter. “Hands up, see, I could be an officer too,” Cash is all smiles as he pats Evan down. “You ain't called the cops?”
“No,” he growls.
Fuck.
“Very noble of you, friend. Very noble,” Riker tells him.
“Friend?” Evan barks. He’s trying to meet my gaze, but my gander casts to the ground in shame since Riker knows just who my father was.
“Oh,” Riker glances at the two of us in amusement. “The missus hasn't told you?”
Evan glances at me once more. The warmth of his gaze almost bathes me in his confidence, but my gander is glued to the floor.
Cash takes the phone from Evan’s back pocket. “Nice digs. What is this, feels good?”
“South American Vicuña,” Evan mutters.
“Vi what?” The guy asks.
Evan glances at me and then he repeats himself. I take the chance to look at him. Our eyes lock. I try to gage what he wants from me, but Riker cuts in.
“Fuck the suit,” Riker snaps. “Evan, back to our new found friendship. Your bitch is as sweet as she was before I arrived, and she hasn’t been touched. But I take it you didn't understand.” His hands move in an exaggerated manner as he says, “I wouldn’t dream of placing a hand on the daughter of Milo Gianni motherfucking Benincassa...”
24
Evan
There's no need to conduct a preliminary search on the name. Benincassa is a name the entire department knows. Fuck that, Milo is talked
