Prologue
HOLLIS — PRESENT
“Hollis! Where the hell are you?”
Elijah’s gruff voice booms into the warehouse where I’ve been waiting on him. I’m slightly out of breath after spending the last five minutes bloodying my fists and putting this dude in front of me into a possible coma. I hope he can pull out of it so we can get some kind of answers. I’m usually a bit more tactful and get the information before beating them unconscious, but he struck a nerve.
“Over here,” I call back, wiping the blood on my hands onto my blood soaked jeans before looking down at my handiwork.
Elijah walks further into the warehouse and spots us on the other side of the office. His dark eyes hold mine as his frown deepens but the smile on his face conveys another message entirely. He’s proud. “Goddammit, Hollis, I fucking told you to wait until I got here.”
“He pissed me off,” I shrug, referring to the dumb ass who had enough balls to steal product from Elijah in the first place. “He wouldn’t stop begging, man. So, I stopped the annoying shit. You know I’m not the most patient person.”
“You just texted me six minutes ago, motherfucker,” he laughs, holding his phone up so I can see the timestamp on the last message I sent him.
I raise my eyebrows and shrug again. “A lot can happen in six minutes.”
He nods and motions to the man lying on the ground. “I can see.”
“What do you want to do with him?” I ask, unsure if he just wants me to pull my gun out and shoot him or not. It’s a cut and dry case, the dumb ass on the floor was caught selling Elijah’s stolen product, so he definitely deserves to die. Everyone knows our shit by its unmistakable quality, so he knew what he was doing before we caught him.
He signed his own death warrant the moment he thought it was okay to do anything but return what wasn’t rightfully his.
“Well, I wanted you to wait until I got here so I could see if he’d tell us who he got it from. I know this motherfucker didn’t rob ManMan himself.”
“I left him alive,” I reason.
Elijah laughs again. “Yeah, thanks for being so considerate. I guess we can chill until he wakes up.”
“Want me to wake him up,” I ask my lip curling into a sinister snarl. I’m itching to use the chain dangling in Elijah’s right hand.
“If you touch him again he’ll be dead for sure.” He moves the man's head with the tip of his work boot and to get a better look at the damage I’d done, I’m sure. “I’m surprised he ain't already dead now. You must’a got popped on first for you to get at him like you did.”
“Nah,” I chuckle. “He just said the wrong thing.”
“Which was …” he draws the words out, making me laugh again.
“He told me my father wouldn’t want this life for me.”
Elijah’s eyes fall back to the man and he shakes his head. “Wrong line, dumb ass.”
He knows more than most about how little my father’s—his uncle’s—opinion matters to me and how much it triggers me to have people bring up anyone in my family. I stopped caring about my family a long time ago when they decided I was better off on the streets when I was only a kid.
I’m not little anymore though, and while I still see my younger sister on occasion, I never returned to my father's home and I do what I have to do as a man to survive. It’s not a pretty life, but who ever said life needed to be pretty to be lucrative?
Surviving for me means using my fighting skills to beat people up on a daily basis for one of the most powerful men alive.
Preston pays us well enough, and I get to enjoy pounding people into the pavement, it’s a win win situation in my opinion. I even get to use my gun some days. Those days are my favorite. I haven’t always felt good at everything I do, but I know now I was definitely born to kill.
“You know,” Elijah says, moving away from the man currently knocked out in front of us, “I think we should go to the gym after this. You’ve been extra fucking tense lately.”
“Shut the hell up,” I say, waving him off. “You’re the one who got me knocking all these motherfuckers out looking for your shit. I’m not tense, I’m just ready for the next fight.”
“I’m sayin’ bruh, why don’t you go fight for leisure like you used to?”
“I’m in the gym every morning, man.”
“Not for fun. You go to train and while being dedicated is all good and fine, do you ever have fun?” He’s pushing his limit getting into my personal life, and he knows it, I can see it clear on his face he’s already regretting opening up this can of worms with me.
“Look, Elijah, you’re not the fun police,” I snap. “What I do when I’m not working doesn't concern you unless I’m bringing shit to the family and I’m not, so drop it.”
He respects my request and lets the subject go, which I am glad about. Not having this conversation ever will always be better in my book. It doesn’t matter what I do outside of the business we share, I take care of my what’s important either way.
We only wait a few minutes for the man I brought to the warehouse to wake up. After a little more coaxing on my part, Elijah gets the real culprit’s name and we wrap things up quickly after.
I put a bullet in his skull and watch as he bleeds out onto the abandoned warehouse’s filthy floor. The dirt mixing with his blood makes the fluid thicken and causes its crimson color to turn ashy. I nudge the guy with my boot one last time before confirming he’s dead to Elijah. “I’ll call Messiah and have him come get the body.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning, man. Let me know if you want to hop in the ring with me tonight,” he challenges, a sly grin on his face.
“I’ll text you if I change my mind,” I tell him as I open my car door, but we both know I won’t hit him up about fighting tonight. I need a shower badly and I am not trying to box with Elijah. Especially not with how our last fight ended. “I’m headed home now man, but I’ll hit you up later.”
“Aight, bruh. Hit me up.”
I nod and get into my car and drive away from the warehouse in silence before calling Messiah. I tell him he has a mess to clean up and it doesn’t surprise me when he actually sounds excited. His ass has always been just a little crazier than me, but it’s why we work. I don't mind doing the killing and Messiah enjoys the disposal side of things. Clean up is not my cup of tea.
When I get to my building, I hop out at the curb and throw the keys to Jerome so he can clean and park my car. He’s paid to know exactly what I expect, so when he gets a good look at me and notices my appearance, he simply nods and greets me like normal. “Hello, Mr. Knox. Will you need the car later?”
“I shouldn't, Jerome, but make sure it's clean.” I walk around to the sidewalk and he passes me on his way to the driver’s side.
“Yes, sir.”
He gets in my car as I hurry into the building. My apartment is in a nice area and I usually try not to get out in the front after bloody fights like the one I just had, but the underground garage is being renovated right now, so I don't have much of a choice.