Page 2 of Stormy Knight

All of it stemmed from Jackson killing their uncle, leaving Zia mourning the death of her husband. Reeves remembered that night like it was yesterday. They’d just buried their father, Jackson and Monroe had gone to handle the other bosses. To let them know Jackson would step up as head of the family. He had found out their uncle had killed their father, Jennings Salvador.

Reeves remembered hearing a woman’s scream. The sound had pierced the silence of the evening. He rushed after Zia as she stumbled from the kitchen door, running for the back office. Heremembered the hand carved wooden doors being pushed open as Zia shoved her way in.

The room had exploded into chaos with screaming women. His aunt went straight to Jackson, hitting his chest with weak fists.“Porque porque?”his aunt had screamed, asking why in Spanish. When she slapped Jackson across his face, Reeves could see it caught his brother off guard. All his brother had done was pull their aunt tight to his chest and asked for forgiveness. Telling her he had to protect the family.

Closing his eyes, Reeves saw when he first heard what Jackson and Monroe had known.

His aunt looked up at Jackson with tear-filled eyes. “He was family, Jackson.”

Jackson wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “He betrayed us by killing my father.” The shock was apparent on her face at this news. He waited for her to either deny it, acknowledge it, or accept it.

Zia wiped at her face. “Then you had no choice.”

Jackson had known she lied. Her eyes had given gave it away. Jackson desperately attempted to convince himself it was just business. But he had known that it was a lie; it was fucking personal. Jackson told him and Monroe; he never blamed her for hating him. That this life they lived was and always would be hard.

“I’ll never do this to a woman,”Jackson had told them. He swore he would never bring someone into this life to be hurt. To suffer from that kind of violence. How hard it must have been for his older brother to fall in love with Whiskey. Then watch as their world tried tearing her apart.

Reeves had done one better than his big brother. He’d let the only woman he ever loved to believe he wasn’t a good guy. In doing so, he’d broken his own heart and probably dented hers along the way.

Stormy Knight had never let on one time that she’d been hurt by his dismissal. If he had hurt her, he’d be the last to know. That he was sure of. Tossing the covers aside, he headed for a hot shower. He needed a distraction from his thoughts. Hopefully, his friend wouldn’t mind company.

1

Reeves stepped off the plane at Dallas/Fort Worth international airport and headed straight for the Grand Hyatt hotel. He had a meeting later that afternoon at a museum in downtown.

Of all the places the Serrano boss wanted to meet, Reeves found it ridiculous.At least it was public, he thought. Throwing the leather strap over his neck, he adjusted the duffel bag where it rested against his back and headed for the hotel.

The air in the Dallas airport was bustling with people coming and going. Reeves felt the weight of the bag against his back, the familiar leather strap cutting into his shoulder as he made his way through the terminal. He’d been here before, countless times, but this time he was there to lay things out for the Serranos.

Walking through the bustling airport, he passed travelers hurrying to their gates, families in tow, some laughing, some arguing. The noise was almost a relief…a welcoming distraction from his thoughts.

The hotel wasn’t a far walk as it was located steps from the TSA checkpoints. He chose it not for the executive suite he’dbooked, but that the hotel offered direct access to all terminals. The last thing he wanted in the morning would be to deal with the trams and long TSA lines. Staying close by, he would avoid those things.

The Grand Hyatt was a sleek, modern building, a far cry from the ranch. The lobby was as immaculate as ever, marble floors reflecting the light from the polished chrome fixtures overhead. It was all designed to impress, but he wasn’t impressed. Not anymore. He’d seen enough of this world to know the shine on the inside often hid the rot underneath.

He walked to the check-in desk, offering a polite smile to the concierge, but the pleasantries were just that…polite, empty gestures. After receiving his room key, he headed for the elevator. It was time to freshen up, shake off the fatigue, and prepare for whatever Serrano had in store.

After checking into his room, Reeves checked return flights just in case the meeting was quick. He’d rather be back in Texas Creek than in Dallas twiddling his thumbs sitting in a hotel bar. His next order of business was checking in with the car service he hired. Being on time was something Reeves prided himself on. Probably a bad idea being a creature of habit. Monroe said it made him an easy target. Who was Monroe kidding? All of them were easy targets.

Reeves had dealt with Mario Serrano before. He was like all the rest. Big-time players, power brokers, all people who thought they could borrow and/or owe them without conscience. He kept his focus, his eyes scanning the crowd as he navigated toward the airport tram where he could get checked into his hotel before he had to rush off to the meeting.

The meeting was later, but Reeves couldn’t shake the feeling this wouldn’t be just another day of business. The tightness in his gut hadn’t loosened since the flight, and the sense ofsomething looming, something dark, stayed with him as he rode up in the elevator.

He didn’t like the idea of meeting in the museum, a place where all the history of what they were on display made it feel more like a public performance than a real negotiation. But it wasn’t his call. He was in the Serrano’s territory.

A museum meeting. Ridiculous. And yet, he had a feeling it was going to be a lot more than just that.

As he made his way out of the hotel, the Texas heat slapped him in the face. He glanced up at the sky -clear, almost painfully blue. He felt a pang of frustration, but smothered it quickly. No time for distractions. He needed to be sharp. Focused. In control.

The drive from the hotel to the museum seemed to take minutes, although it had taken half an hour. “I’ll be out within the hour”,” he told the driver. Sliding out of the car, Reeves noticed the building’s signage. The sign said the National Museum of Organized Crime & Law Enforcement. Smirking, Reeves knew that was the proper name, but it was better known as the Mob Museum. Every year, the location changed to a new city and state. The last location had been Las Vegas, Nevada. The first museum had been the Mob Experience at the Tropicana in Vegas, which was now closed.

He was actually interested in seeing what the museum held. That information he’d be keeping close to the chest. Jackson and Monroe would laugh him off the ranch if they knew he was interested in seeing the place.

Stepping through the entrance, Reeves was immediately approached by a friendly woman sporting a version of a ‘mafiaboss attire’ giving her a smile. He purchased a ticket and walked further into the museum.

The well-thought-out attraction had plenty of vintage photos and featured several interactive displays, including listening in on a real wiretap and firing of a Tommy Gun. The entire tour, which was self-guided, took about two hours. Afterwards, he could walk around the corner for a drink at the Mob Bar.

The Experience was interesting; using interactive entertainment technology to re-create the rise and fall of organized crime in Dallas. Reeves had to walk the tour to get to his meeting in the Mob Bar speakeasy at the very back of the museum.

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