Page 61 of Good As Hell

How could I be so simple to believe his lies? Hoping the dream could be any different really had me fucked up this time.

“Mommy?” Ayaan’s hopeful but still sad gaze draws my attention. So like his daddy, but innocent — guileless, no lies or betrayal.

“Yes, sweetie?” My heart twinges looking down, at the little family group he’s assembled.

“Babba, mommy, baby,” he smiles, a new tooth poking through. A new tooth, I promise myself Hassan will never see. I have to protect my son.

“We need to talk.”Trying to keep the exaggeration from my sigh, I nod to Nikko as he leads me into his brother’s office after I put Ayaan down for the night. He cried when I told him that daddy wasn’t there. I was feeling low, not knowing how I could make my son understand he would not see his daddy again.

One day, I was going to have to tell him the truth, and I dread that day with every fiber of my being.

The room is has a wall screen. There is a meeting in progress. Five blacked-out screens. The people silhouetted in the background. All men look massively jacked. The notorious Bastard Brother Syndicate. Two are present here with me — Nikko and Oz, the others they’ve not named. Nikko told me it’s better that I don’t know. The brothers prefer their anonymity. To know them is to die.

“I guess. I’m special.” I quipped to Nikko only to have Oz grumble, “You better fucking believe it Empress and it ain’t because of you being the biggest star in the world.”

I knew immediately what it was and my tummy twisted at the thought. It had nothing to do with me at all and everything to do with my youngest sister, Song.

“What’s up?” Raising my eyes to Nikko’s tall form, I talk to him, knowing the other bastard brothers have never spoken when I was at their meetings.

“Lyric.” My heart stops hearing FADE’s voice as his face fills a screen. Ghad is beside him. Both of them wear masks of fury.

“Mistakes were made.” Nikko quirks a brow. His voice cool and nonchalant, like he could be speaking of the exceptional weather here.

“Nig — man, fuck you.” Oz surges from where he sits behind a massive desk. He slams his hands down hard on the mahogany surface. It’s a replica of the resolute desk that once belong to the father they were happy to tell me they killed for all his heinous crimes against their mothers. That’s what brought the seven together — that and taking down traffickers of women and children — the one heroic thing the criminal syndicate does.

A crescendo of voices in various languages rises from the screens. In my travels I’ve pick up several profanities. This conversation is definitely laden with them. There’s no yelling, just chilling statements, sneering asides and mirthless chuckles.

“The fuck you mean — mistakes were made?” Oz seethes over the others. But his voice is never raised. His eyes speak murder and for his kinfolk, too. His eyes flick to me for a hard second. “Little lady, your husband is on his way with his folk and I don’t mean the Gendarmerie, I’m talking about his special forces. My advice, don’t run.”

Stunned as he grabs a flack jacket and stalks toward me. He stops just short of me and cups my chin. “I really like, Sassafras.Stay alive so you can sing it again.” He gives me a wink. Then, with a heated look at Nikko that speaks of retribution, he leaves.

“Wh-what’s going on?” I can’t stop the stammer as I look wildly at the screens. Nikko and back again. “Hassan’s on his way?”

“Yes.” Nikkio says, rubbing his hand through his thick hair. “The account was a decoy. Ghad and Hisashi Takeda discovered the discrepancy. They also tracked the payment to us. FADE reached out to me as a courtesy to let me know of the discovery and the opp to recover you and Ayaan.”

“When will it start? There are innocent people here, FADE?” I look at the screen where he’s looking on.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me, Lyric?” he demands. Ghad says something I can’t hear shaking his head — probably telling his brother I’ve been through enough. The truth is Nikko didn’t want to give me a phone, thinking I’d reach out to Hassan demanding answers. “I’ve seen others fall for one of these guy’s lies and end up a year later with a toe tag. The same went for my family. No contact until her was sure I didn’t have Stockholm Syndrome.

“Right. It doesn’t matter. It’s imminent. No one will be spared and you won’t be either if you resist. Hassan is not fucking around.” He warns me, disappointment still evident in his manner and gaze.

“Can’t you call him? I’m just finding all this out. I didn’t know—” I stop when Ghad shakes his head.

“We already tried to talk to him, babe. You need to do whatever you have to in order to stay safe.” Ghad looks down at his phone, then hazel eyes lock on the two of us standing there. “Nikko, you got about five minutes.”

I can feel the hesitation ripple through the man beside me, but I know Hassan will cut him down the moment he sees him. I have only one thought.

It seems our thoughts we are in accord. “How’s Song?” He asks for my ears only.

“I think you need to stay alive to find out for yourself.” I turn to him.

“Your debt is repaid.”

“Not by a long fucking shot.” He scoffs a little smile, softening the severe angles of his face.

“Then save Song. She’s not safe.” I demand.

The transformation is immediate. He jerks a nod, dipping his head to press a chaste kiss on my forehead. Then he’s gone.

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