We Don't Talk Anymore (The Don't Duet #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,40
of my skull. Pain sears through me, blinding. I fall to the hardwood. A second before I hit the floor, the world flickers into darkness.
I blink awake, groaning in pain.
Whatever they hit me with must’ve been heavy, because it knocked me out cold. My head is pounding like an anvil’s been dropped on it.
I attempt to feel the lump forming beneath my hair, but my hands aren’t cooperating. They aren’t moving at all, in fact. Dazed, I open my eyes and discover both my wrists bound to the arms of a dining chair with several layers duct tape. No matter how hard I tug, they don’t loosen.
Fuck.
“So, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake,” a man says, crouching down to meet my eyes. I recognize him from the parking lot; Rico, the shifty-eyed gangster who threatened me after practice. “I was worried Barboza caused permanent brain damage.”
A low grunt reverberates from my left. My eyes follow the sound to his partner, the hulking giant. He looks ridiculously oversized amidst my parents’ aging dining room set.
“Disappointed we haven’t heard from you, kid.” Shaking his head, Rico makes a tsk sound. “Thought, after our last little talk, you understood we weren’t overflowing with patience.”
“I haven’t seen my brother.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame.” He pauses. “For you.”
Barboza steps forward, cracking his knuckles menacingly.
“What do you want from me? I can’t force Jax to appear,” I say, trying hard to keep my voice steady. I don’t take my eyes of those massive fists, coming ever-closer. The feeling of them around my neck, cutting off my air supply, is burned forever into my memory.
“We know that. We aren’t unreasonable.” Rico laughs lightly. “That’s why we thought Jaxon might need a little… incentive… to pop his head out of whatever hole he’s hiding in.”
I gulp in a breath. “Incentive?”
“Mmm. Say… his little brother ends up in the hospital with a terrible injury.” His head tilts in thought. “Or… maybe his mother steps out into traffic. Women can be so clumsy, can’t they? I’m sure he’d attend the funeral.”
My hands curl around the arms of the chair. “If you even think about going near my mother I’ll—“
“What? Kill me?” Rico laughs. “I like your spirit, kid. We should’ve recruited you instead of your shithead brother.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Rico smirks. “The thing is, what I think doesn’t matter. It’s not going to make a damn bit of difference to our boss. He’s been real patient so far… but his patience is about to expire. If Jaxon doesn’t start clearing his debts soon, we’ll have to collect from his family. Which is your family, ese.”
“Is that what all this is about?” I scoff. “Money?”
“Your brother owes us a debt.”
“How is that possible? He’s been behind bars for two years. I seriously doubt he’s been racking up a balance at whatever establishment you work at.” My lips twist. “Let me guess — underground cockfight ring? You two look like you enjoy a good cock.”
Barboza takes a step closer. His voice rumbles like a freight train. “You got a smart mouth, kid. Happy to shut it for you — permanently.”
“Barboza, chill.” Rico spins one of the dining room chairs around and sits on it backwards, facing me. “Life on the inside isn’t like out here — all rainbows and glitter and sunshine. Jaxon took protection from the Kings to avoid becoming someone’s bitch. He knew that protection came at a price.”
The Kings.
The Latin Kings.
Jesus Christ.
My eyes drop to the tattoo on Rico’s neck. The five-pronged crown — an irrefutable symbol of one of the most notorious gangs in the Boston area. I should’ve put two and two together before. I should’ve realized that these were no mere ex-cons seeking payback for jailhouse beef with my idiot brother, or enemies he pissed off before he went away.
They’re members of the Latin Kings.
The world of crime is about as far-removed from the quietude of Manchester-by-the-Sea as I can fathom, but word of their violence is widespread enough to reach even here. The gang dominates the local news channels these days — nervous reporters detailing the recent uptick of deaths in the city, police speculating a change in gang leadership. Someone new in charge, with a penchant for killing.
Ma watches while she cooks dinner, clutching at the cross around her neck as images of gore play out on the television screen.
Drug busts.
Carjackings.
Kidnappings.
Murder.
No matter how many sting operations the Boston Police Department conducts… no matter how many gang members they arrest… none of it has much effect. Every