Page 2 of Blood
My brother takes a step toward them, a wrench in his hand, his eyes trained on those following me. “Stay the fuck away from Everleigh. She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours.”
The boys scatter, running awkwardly in two different directions. I let out a gasp, safe now, my heart still pounding .
“Are you okay?” Asher narrows his eyes at me. “Did those fuckers touch you?” His grip tightens on the wrench.
I nod, then shake my head. “I’m okay. They didn’t do anything.”
He keeps his intense gaze focused on me. “You stay away from boys like that, Everleigh. I’m not fucking kidding.” He holds an arm out. “Come here.”
I settle into the security of his strong embrace, closing my eyes.
My heart twists as I think back. It was so easy back then, with parents who loved me and a brother who was always there, shielding me from anyone who dared to tease or bully me. My parents seemed relieved when Asher moved out as soon as he turned eighteen, a month before his high school graduation, but I never understood why.
But what hurt the most was the way he stopped coming around. It was almost like I lost him before I lost my parents.
My parents are fighting again. Their voices carry through the dark house, barely lit in the evening. It’s way past my bedtime, but I’m awake and hanging on every word, even though my eight-year-old mind doesn’t understand what they’re saying.
My mom’s words reach me again, “I found more in his room. This is too much, Dan.”
“I know, but he’s in high school. Teenagers get into trouble. They look at things they shouldn’t.”
“Not like this. Not with a little sister in the house. We need to do something.”
“Like what, Wendy? Kick him out?” my father shouts back. “He’s seventeen. He’d have nowhere to go. And he’s our kid. You don’t give up on your kids.”
“I know, I know. But if Everleigh—”
A door opens and slams, and the conversation stops.
I didn’t even know Asher had joined the Kings of Blood, one of the vicious gangs that run the underworld of the city, until about a year ago when our parents were killed in a car crash.
The brake lines were cut. The police report confirmed it wasn’t an accident, but the ensuing investigation went away quietly. I did my own digging after the fact and found out that the city’s gangs were definitely involved. I was floored to find out Asher must have been involved, too. Even as a college student, I was able to gather plenty of information. From asking around, following people, and Google stalking, I found out about Asher’s involvement in the Kings.
I hired a private investigator with my meager savings. The PI, Hank Weimer, was the one who discovered that Asher is high-ranking. So high-ranking, in fact, that he may be one of the few people who know how high that hierarchy even goes.
The reach of the Kings of Blood is the stuff of legend. They have police officers on their payroll, elected officials. If the Kings want you dead, you already are, and the authorities will look the other way.
My target is just another in a long line of murders they’ve ordered. When I got the assignment, I didn’t even think to question why they wanted him dead. It doesn’t matter. The Kings ordered the hit, so it’s happening.
I never pictured myself joining a gang. I was a good girl growing up, always earning badges with the Girl Scouts, and then later, making the all-state track team while getting straight A’s. I was on track to get my degree in early childhood education at NYU. I was just starting my junior year when my parents died. I had it all planned out.
Then the car crash, and I couldn’t pay the tuition. I dropped out of school, moved to a cheaper apartment, and started picking up gigs in an attempt to make ends meet. Then the thing with the guy from the Sinners—a rival gang—happened, and I begged the Kings to let me join for my own protection. They take care of their own, ensuring all members have the skills and weapons to defend themselves. Not to mention the lengths at which they’d go to protect you. Just the way Asher used to protect me, when we were kids. And if I was accepted into the Kings, maybe he’d let me back into his life. I needed my big brother back.
I’ve made it halfway down the hallway, one door from where I need to be. I wipe my hands on my leggings again, then take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Apartment 8F. The home of Bobby Martinez. Soon to be the former home of Mr. Martinez, if I don’t fuck this up.
Even if I do mess this up, he’ll be dead anyway. It’s just a question of whether I’ll be joining him in Hell. The Kings don’t tolerate screwups. More than that, though, I just can’t let Asher down like that.
The tarnished apartment number is staring me in the face. I take another deep breath.
I use the sleeve of my shirt to cover my hand as I try the door knob. No one on the police force is coming after a member of the Kings, but until I’m initiated, it’s still better to cover my tracks.
The knob turns easily and—thank fuck—quietly. Not the smartest man, leaving his door unlocked. Anyone could walk in.
I push the door open a crack, listening.
Silence.
