The clinking sound of the keys as I tossed them into the air acted as a meditative trance. I was propped up against the wall near the garage and had fallen into my thoughts. The motion of the toss, catch, toss soothed away some of my edges as I waited for Atticus. I'd been contemplating his retreat into the office after lunch. It wasn't an unaccustomed event, but this felt different, and I attributed it to our impromptu lunch guests.
I knew Atticus as well as I knew myself, maybe even better. It'd been my job, after all, as his personal guard for years. I'd learned to anticipate his needs before he even knew what he needed. It was a reflex at this point, even if technically, it was no longer my job now, since I was number two. Some habits were harder to quit than others.
My thoughts drifted to our magnetic lunch companion and how different she appeared outside the office setting. I supposed it made sense. You had a persona to uphold in the mafia, but it faded away when you were with people you trusted. Sadly, only a few people fell into that category nowadays.
Initially, I'd been enamored with her for her looks. She had a delicateness about her that craved my rough hands on her. The things I could do to her drove me wild at night as I thought about it. Imagining her fair skin and dark hair spread out on my black sheets had me hard in minutes. Add in the red lipstick she wore the night at the club, and I couldn't wait to see it wrapped around my cock as I fisted her long locks. The images haunted me, and no matter how much I'd tried to get them out of my head, I couldn't.
Even when I had some busty blonde on her knees, pounding into her the other night, the only person I could see was her—Loren. I ended up having to close my eyes and picture the scenarios I'd been beating myself off to in order to cum. The blonde tried to kiss me after, and a rage unlike any other filled me, and I had to stop myself from slapping her for daring it. I didn't hit women, but at that moment, I almost had.
That sobering fact left me dazed and unsure of what the hell was happening. Since the day I figured out what my cock was and how to use it, I'd been getting it wet by a new chick as often as I wanted. Pussy was easy to get when you were in the family, and I'd never had to try before. Spitfire had turned everything on its head and made me question everything.
I had no clue what any of it meant, and it was something I wasn't accustomed to. My role was to know every threat, enemy, and risk for any situation. This one had me faltering, and I had a feeling I wasn't the only one under her spell. The trouble was, Mas wasn't one to admit it. He would run from this, and it was my job to stop him from fucking it up. Yet, this situation had me questioning whether or not I wanted him to.
The selfish part of me wanted him to run, to avoid it, and leave her just for me. The part that was his friend knew it was a shitty thing to do. Besides, it wasn't the first time we'd shared a girl between us. Spitfire was just the first to make me want to keep her to myself. It was such a novel concept I didn't know what it even meant for myself. Atticus finally emerged from the elevator, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Everything good?"
"Affirmative. Just an issue to sort."
"Does this issue have a name perchance?" I teased. Evasive Atticus was putting me on edge, making me anxious. This wasn't how we were with one another, and I didn't like this new development.
Mas looked over and sighed, hopefully admitting to himself he couldn't hide this from me. He nodded and slipped into the car. Joining him in the back, I waited him out until he was ready to speak. I'd learned years ago that information was easier to gather if it was his choice. He expected me to pester him like his father always had, but waiting always had him spilling with little effort.
"I can't get involved with her. It's too dangerous, and Immy likes her. I can't risk that. I won't."
Nodding because everything he said was true, I just didn't know if it mattered in the end. We were on a crash course set straight for her, even if he didn't acknowledge it. I wasn't sure how it would happen, only that I saw the eventual crossing of paths and was already weighing the risks and casualties likely to occur.
We were at war whether we acknowledged it or not. This turf war with Delgado wasn't over, and escalation was a guarantee. The likelihood of everyone surviving was slim. That was a fact and necessary reality of this life. When you accepted your inevitable death, it no longer carried power over you, or worse, fear. Hard to fear something you'd looked in the eyes and said, ‘do your worst' to.
Loren and Immy were the kinds of people you dreamed of better things for. Until the incident, it had seemed like a probable future for our princess. But Immy had seen horrors now that most grown men never witnessed. That left a mark, a scar. She would be irrevocably changed. Time would tell just how much.
Hopefully, with the help of Mrs. Carter, it wasn't such a long shot anymore. Since we'd left the plaza, Immy had been on her phone texting, a grin from ear to ear. I didn't even care at the moment it was from a boy because it'd been so long since I'd seen her smile. I wanted to bask in its presence as long as possible. Mas evidently felt the same as he'd kept his comments to himself in her vicinity, but as soon as she'd gone, he gave me the look. The "I want everything there is to know about that kid, ASAP" one.
While he'd been hiding, more like sulking, in his office, I'd gotten to work. It had been easy to hack into the center's records. Being a not-for-profit, they had minimal security in place, the assumption being no one would want their info. Wrong. Information in any form was valuable and should be protected as such. I almost had the heart to install it for them. Almost.
"Run me through what you found."
Not even hesitating, I rolled off the info I'd uncovered.
"Jude Franklin, 17, currently resides in foster care with Sarah and John Edgar. Biological mother was Hannah Franklin. She died at age 32, killed in a drug-related shooting around five years ago. It was believed to be gang-related. Biological father, Clinton Franklin, also 32 at his supposed death. Whereabouts are unknown, but he was believed to have been with her. Several bodies were unidentifiable, and it is assumed he's one."
I took a moment for him to digest that info and then continued with what I knew about the boy. Atticus sat stoically, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Only other family member is an older brother, Cameron Franklin, age 20. Since he left the system at 18, there hasn't been much info on him. They were reported as close growing up and lived on the streets for almost a year before CPS found them. A teacher noticed them wearing the same clothing multiple days in a row, not having warm outfits during winter, and caught them stealing food. Jude is a smart kid. Mostly A's in all of his studies, and he is interested in photography and art design. No after-school clubs, but that seems more due to his living situation. He's now at the center and has been entering some art competitions to earn scholarships. He stays out of trouble and follows the rules," I paused, debating if I should offer my two cents. "I kind of like the kid."
Atticus watched me, assessing my features, but only nodded in response. For once, I had no clue what he was thinking. His emotions were on lockdown, and nothing was emitting from him, not even around me. This was so unlike him or our relationship. Hurt bubbled up in me, with a feeling of being left behind and tossed aside along with it. We'd been this duo for so long, to feel on the outside of it pierced me deeply.
I considered confronting him, but as soon as I began to open my mouth and challenge him, we pulled to a stop. Blinking because we were nowhere near the warehouse yet, I was surprised to find us at a high-rise apartment building in an up-and-coming part of town. Again, before I could ask what this was about, the door opened. My skin prickled, and my veins felt as hot as lava as I swallowed the pain of betrayal coursing through me.
This was not okay. He was leaving me out, and feelings aside, it broke family protocol. While we'd never separated our friendship and mafia relationship before, I could push my feelings aside as his friend. Cutting me out as his number two was a completely different story. This act of defiance could get people killed.
A skinny, plastic and basic bitch scooted into the car, and I wanted to explode. She greeted Mas with two kisses on his cheeks, and I already hated her. Just another pretentious basic bitch. Fortunately, outside Mas, I was known for my quiet, stoic nature, so I withdrew and ignored them both.
So this was his plan to ignore his attraction to Loren? It was ignorant, and if he'd asked me, I would've told him that.
The oddity of him shutting me out grated on me, and I realized how much I didn't like it. We worked because we had no secrets between us. Right now, it felt as if the most grievous sin had been committed. It wouldn't make sense to anyone else, but in our world it did, and that was what mattered.
Fury pumped hard through my veins by the time we pulled up to the warehouse. Each time the pretentious woman giggled, it was a knife slicing through my heart. She was taking the liberty to maw at him, and worse, he allowed her. I didn't know this version of Mas, and I didn't like it. Hardening my features, I locked everything away and went into guard mode.