Lastly (L.T.)

Chapter 2

The potent smell of weed and booze washes over me the moment I step into headquarters. What was once the lobby is full of people drinking and smoking and wrapped around each other in desire without a care of who sees. I lead the way through the masses of leather jackets with their raven patches on the back, signaling their loyalty to this gang. Our gang.

Andrea follows me on the right and Dallas follows me on the left. People move out of the way automatically for us, my searing gaze and reputation parting the crowds of sin. I lead us to the stairs that head down instead of up, unlike a normal apartment complex, or even an abandoned building, this place is a labyrinth.

The three of us, march down the stairs to where more crowds hover. Although it's not as loud down here. There's mostly only the hard drug users, with their lines of cocaine spread on folding tables and in the back right corner, the rich kids with their designer drugs, only a part of the gang for the bragging rights it gave them. In the back left corner, sat the man we were looking for surrounded by mobsters in suits and ties who looked beyond out of place in the madness.

Jacques looks to me as we approach, his silver and white hair tied back in a leather tie, and his eyes a tired and intimidating grey. His leather jacket hugs his muscled frame despite his age and no one but us dares to approach him. Even the druggies and addicts in their states know to give this man a wide birth.

"Kestrel, Andrea, and Dallas" He growls in his thick french accent as we stop in front of him, "I trust everything went well?"

"Of course." I smile at him knowingly, "a broken jaw and a learned lesson, but nothing more."

He nods, and his lips curl up into a small smile, undoubtedly the first time he's smiled tonight. He's the most dangerous man in New York, but to me he's more of a father Andrea, Dallas, and I, than we've ever had.

The mobsters surrounding him look me up and down, wondering how possibly I could be a threat to anyone.

I step around them, leaving Andrea and Dallas a few feet behind me, and place the bag at Jacques's feet. I can feel one of the mobster's behind me checking out my ass in my tight fake leather pants and I stand up immediately, shooting daggers behind me with my eyes.

Jacques notices as well, and the look on his face makes the man recoil in his chair, ducking his head in an apology.

It's rare for mobsters to be afraid of gangsters, usually it's the other way around, but Jacques is something else entirely, and they fear him like the devil.

Dallas smiles his sinister smile at Jacques, "any new assignments for us?"

Jacques returns the smile, eyeing Dallas proudly, "no, go have your fun, you've done well."

Dallas salutes him before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Andrea stays in place, waiting for me, and looking like a demonic Tinkerbell, with her short athletic body covered in tight leather. She looked good, she always did, and the mobsters were killing themselves trying not to check her out too.

"Andrea, go have fun child. I need to speak to Kestrel." He waves her off and Andrea nods, turning to follow Dallas into the crowds.

He turns to me and stands, the mobsters all move to stand with him, but he swipes his hand at them and they stay where they are.

"Stay here." He shoots them a glare, and they all nod. I notice several are sweating just from the stress of being in his presence.

Good. They should be afraid of him.

I notice he's stressed, which is unusual. He's afraid of nothing and no one and I've only seen him stressed a select number of times; which is enough to tell me something has happened.

He picks up the duffle bag I laid by his feet and leads the way to the other side of the massive basement. People trip over each other and their own feet like scurrying ants to get out of his way. Against the wall on the other side of the room is a massive metal door with a glass handprint reader where the doorknob should be.

There are only a select few number of people in this gang of hundreds that have ever been behind this door. Less than twenty, I suspect, and less than ten that have access this room themselves. I am one of them.

He presses his hand against the glass reader and the door creaks open with a massive screech. Several people dare to turn their heads in curiosity, longing to know what he keeps behind the door. He sees them and opens it just enough for me to slip through first, and then he follows behind me, grabbing the handle on the inside of the door to pull it. It is six inches thick at least and shuts with a crash. Neither one of us acknowledge the sound as he leads me down the long hallway that is furnished in thick red carpet and dark wood walls and glowing lights. It's so different from the room we just left that you'd think it was a separate building.

I finally decide to press him about what's wrong. "Jay, what is it?" I ask slowly.

He clenches and loosens his jaw slowly before speaking. "We have a problem, and I'm going to need you to solve it."

I nod, ready to help. I didn't want him to be stressed. "Of course, anything. What is it?"

"I'll have to explain."

We reach the end of the hallway where a dark wood door sits. He opens it and we both duck inside to another hallway, this one exactly the same as the first, but with doors lining each wall. He leads me to the third door on the right. His office.

His large dark wood desk matches the walls and is spread with stacks of papers. A large world map covers one wall, covered in red tacks with details of deals and our trafficking patterns.

He sits down behind the desk and I take a seat in front of his desk in one of two leather chairs facing him. He sets the duffle bag on the table, not bothering to open it. He doesn't need to. We both know what's inside.

"So you know your team is my best. You're my best fighters, you get along easily and complete your missions without mistakes, but this mission I need done can only be accomplished by a single person. I can't risk sending in a group." He rubs his hand over his tired eyes and I realize how stressed he really is.

"I can do it." I tell him. I don't want him to worry about me. He taught me how to fight, and because of that, I've never lost a fight. I've killed more people than I can count on his orders and I regret none of it.

"One of our trading partners overseas has died. He was an important man and a friend of mine, he was in charge of a fourth of our overseas investments and held a great deal of money for us."

I frown, "so what's going to happen to our money?"

His face turns stormy, and I can tell we've reached the real reason for his stress.

"Well it's passed on to his apprentice. He had an apprentice of his own, much like I have you. Only his apprentice has decided that now under his leadership, his enterprise will no longer trade with ours. He also refuses to return our assets."

I frown...this guy sounds like a dick. I could never do something like that to any of Jay's trading partners if something ever happened to him.

He continues, "so I need to send you overseas to speak to him. Take as long as you need to convince him, but I need our assets and I would like to have his partnership as well."

I understood what he needed me to do but I wasn't stupid enough to think this would be easy. Some people can't be sweet talked into things.

"And if I can't convince him?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Kill him."

I nod, I was not surprised or afraid. "Where overseas is this?"

"London, England. I will have you on a plane tonight with money and directions as to his location. How you go about this is up to you but I need it done."

I nod again, my head was already spinning with ideas.

"What's his name?" I ask.

"Louis Tomlinson."