Forget about me

Chapter thirty-four

Alexandra

"Give me a smile, gorgeous, and I'll let you in." The bouncer to the lion's roar grins proudly at me. His eyes travel up and down my body, lingering on my chest.

Widening my stance and bending my knees lightly I glare up at the large man. "How about I just let myself in?" crack. The heel of my palm connects with the underside of his nose. I continue the movement up into his face, forcing him to bend backwards and expose his throat to me. The gun is cool and heavy in my hand as I press the barrel beneath his chin. "Still want that smile?" I raise my brows at the bouncer as he glowers at me. My eyes drop to the door expectantly and with a huff pf irritation he fumbles for the handle. I'm not sure his ego will survive being overpowered by a woman half his size. Honestly, men are so stupid. Will they never learn not to underestimate women? One of these days it will be their downfall. Seems that day has come early for the Pride's bouncer.

"Hurry up, I haven't got all day." I tut at him as he drags his feet inside. No one notices us as we step into the old bar. Everyone too caught up in their discussions, flirtations or card games. It's clear they trust the man at the other end of my gun to be so oblivious to their surroundings. "Now, if you'd be so kind, please take me to Mr. Johnson." His steps falter with surprise. I can tell he's about to refuse so I cock the gun in silent threat. Don't make the mistake of thinking I won't blow your brains out.

"You pull that trigger in here and you'll be dead in seconds." He says looking far too smug for a soon to be dead man.

"Yes, but so will you." His smug smile fades away as self-preservation wins out. As it always does. "There's no reason to paint the walls with your brain, if you do what I ask. Chop-chop." We keep close to the walls as we make our way to a staircase hidden in a dark corner. They creak beneath our weight and the din of the crowd grows quieter with each step. The bouncer raises his meaty fist as if to knock but pauses as the barrel presses harder into his skin. "I think we've forgone such formalities, don't you?"

Grinding his teeth, he twists the handle and swings the door open.

———

The man's burly frame hides me from sight. "John? What is it?" the words are a deep rumble. I detect genuine worry in them. "What's happened to you?" Mr. Johnson continues at the mans, Johns, continued silence. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor fills the silence.

Placing the gun against the back of Johns head I give him a slight push forward. He stumbles a bit but rights himself before he lands on his face. Drops of Johns blood decorates the floor as we make our way inside. Freeing another gun from the holster beneath my jacket, I kick the door shut and tap the side of Johns face in an order to step aside. One gun stays trained on him as the other finds Mr. Johnson.

The creases around his eyes deepen for a second before they widen with recognition. The blood drains from his face as he stumbles backwards, knocking a chair over. A hand flies to his face covering his gaping mouth.

"So, I really do look like my mother." I mumble to myself. "What's the matter, Mr. Johnson? You look as if you've seen a ghost." I suppose mothers old leather jacket only adds to the illusion. He remains frozen in place, not even his eyes move, making me doubt he heard me.

His words come out choked and raspy. "Wha- Wh-who are you?"

The corners of my mouth twist upwards into a cold harsh smile. "Alexandra Johnson, daughter of Marcus Johnson and Amerie Ravens, and your niece." He doesn't want to believe me. I can see it in his eyes as the wheels turn behind them. Standing there as if frozen in time I watch as memory after memory flash before him. As he rakes through his mind for anything that would confirm or disprove my statement.

"But the baby-"

"Hadn't even been born yet?" I finish for him. "Let me rephrase. I am the firstborn daughter. Well, the only born daughter since my sibling died in my mother's womb when you killed her." I throw the accusation out there to catch him off guard and see his reaction to it before he can start spinning webs of lies in his head.

Mr. Johnson rears back as if struck. "What did you just- I never-" he stutters, his mind trying to comprehend it all. After a few moments, he gathers himself enough to speak full sentences. "I, my dear child, am not the one who killed your parents. I never lay a hand on my brother and his wife." He spits the words like they're poison on his tongue.

"Then why is my grandmother convinced it was you? Why did she claim that you and your father, that the Pride, tried to kill Marcus and Amerie on multiple occasions?" I snap back whilst reminding myself to keep an eye on the bouncer.

Mr. Johnson shakes his head fervently. "Marcus was a wolf. We didn't try to kill him anymore than the Pack tried to kill us. He made his choice and yes, it made people mad but we never set out to assassinate him. Or his pregnant wife for heaven's sake!" His voice rises with each word, gathering more and more anger as he speaks. His shoulders slump inward and he braces his hands on the desk in front of him. He bows his head, looking so tired and wrecked that a sting of pity pierces my chest. "My brother-" he cuts himself off to take a snivelling breath, forcing back tears. "I loved my brother. With all my heart. He and father had their differences, and so did he and I. I was too much of a coward to stand up to dad but Marcus never was. Dad wasn't- he wasn't a kind man, nor was he a good father. But he was our father."

"Was it him then? Your dad?"

"No!" His response is immediate. "No, Marcus leaving broke dads' heart. He got angry, we all did, but not murderous. He could never have murdered his own child or grandchild." His silver lined eyes meet mine. "I am so sorry. I never knew- I don't know what you've been through to get here but I'm sorry."

"I don't need your apologies." If it wasn't the Pride or its leaders, then who was it? What other enemies had my father made in his search for mom's family treasure?

"If you're in need of money or a place to stay then you are more than welcome..." he trails off as I shake my head a sorrowful and disturbing laugh climbing up my throat.

"I don't need anything but answers from you. My whole life, I've only ever had a name. Marcus Johnson. That's all I knew of where I came from. Nothing else. Up until like two hours ago I had no clue that I had any still living family. Suddenly, there's a grandmother, an uncle, a dead father and a pregnant murdered mother." The words come flowing out of my mouth. Rushed and full of hurt. "All I want. All I need, is to know who did this? Who killed my parents?" my father's brother shakes his head about to lie. Say he doesn't know or outright refuse. "Please?" the word is a broken plea.

"I'm sorry, but I am not about to give the name that will send the niece I just found out that I have to her death. It's not worth it. They've taken enough from this family, they won't take you because of some hunt for vengeance that won't make you feel any better." Ignoring the gun pointed at his head, Mr. Johnson steps around the desk and up to me. "It won't bring them back. And my brother and Amerie would haunt me for the rest of my life if I let anything happen to you." His eyes are soft and pleading.

I scoff. "It's a bit too late for that." Levelling the barrel with his forehead I cock the gun. The bouncer takes a small step forward. "Uh-uh, I wouldn't do that if I were you." I warn him never taking my eyes of his leader. "I'm a grown woman who can make her own decisions. You can either tell me now and make this easier for everyone or I can place a bullet between your eyes and hunt those motherfuckers down myself. Your choice."

Defeat makes his chin drop. "Promise me, you'll be careful and that you won't do anything stupid, like try to take them down on your own. Ask for help, whether it's mine or someone else's. Promise me."

"I promise." I breathe scared that if I speak to loudly I'll wake up from this nightmare. I don't tend to break promises, but this time I'm afraid I'll have to. What is it that people use to say, what they don't know won't hurt them. Mr. Johnson won't know and by the time he finds out, I'll either have succeeded or I'll be dead. Which doesn't make much difference, really. "Tell me. Now." Growling, I lower both weapons.

My uncle straightens, draws his shoulders back and takes a deep steadying breath as my heart tries to beat its way out of my ribcage. "Lee Gild. Lee Gild had your parents killed."  

The end.