It was toward the end of week six and the emptiness and loneliness that surrounded me were now like old friends. I woke up with them, went to bed with them, and to change things up so I didn’t get totally bored, I gave them a rest and had breakfast and dinner with helplessness and self-loathing. I wondered if Echo was feeling as despondent and untethered as I was. I hated myself for being the kind of man that deserved being dumped in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but think about every single thing he’d done in his life that led him there. She was better off without me. She deserved someone that could help her heal. She deserved someone that wouldn’t take anything more from her, considering all that she had already given.
I was in the shower, spending time with my fist and memories, when it felt like the air in the cabin changed. It was like an electrical current was suddenly charging the tiny interior space. Every breath I took and exhaled felt alive as I slowly stopped what I was doing and moved to put a towel around my waist. It had been a hot minute since I’d been back home but there were some things that I would never forget about growing up and climbing my way to the top of the food chain in the Point. One of those things was the way that every sense seemed to sharpen and heighten when danger was close by. I could feel the prick of it against my skin. I could see the way the unknown made my skin pebble and the hair on my arms raise up. I could hear my heartbeat, fast and furious, between my ears, and I could taste the tang of fear and anticipation on my tongue. And the smell, well, the smell of danger in the Point came in a lot of different varieties but this was one that I knew all too well. It was the scent of expensive cologne and high-end products. It was the same scent that had clung to me when I used to be the danger the Point needed protection from.
Pushing my hands through my wet hair, I exited the bathroom and wasn’t surprised at all to see a dark-haired man leaning against my rickety kitchen counter while another man messed with the shotgun that was leaning against the wall. Both were dressed in impeccably tailored suits and had on shoes that cost a pretty penny and would more than likely be ruined by the time they got off my mountain. In another life, Nassir Gates had been the kind of badass I tried to emulate. My old boss didn’t believe in looking the part of a man in charge, but Nassir always had. He dressed like he was the one running the show, long before he’d taken the reins. I’d always admired his style, even though he was the only person I’d ever encountered in all my years of making people beg and bleed that scared the ever living shit out of me.
Novak had been a crazed madman, hell-bent on carnage and corruption. He was more than willing to let the entire city burn, and all the people that called it home could go with it for all he cared. Nassir was the opposite. Wickedly smart and coolly conniving, he didn’t make a single move without thinking it through to the end. He was just as vicious, just as brutal as Novak had been, but instead of tearing the city down and walking all over the inhabitants, he was building it up and giving them the choice to stay or go. If you stayed, you accepted that the Point was never going to be easy and the men in charge were never going to be law-abiding and above board. If you left, you did so knowing that the secrets of the Point stayed locked within the grit and the grime. You didn’t take what happened in the Point outside of the crumbling city and if you did, Nassir had a reach that was long and impossible to duck.
“I always wanted to try fly fishing. I’ve heard it’s very relaxing. They teach you how to do that out here, Benny?”
The words came from Chuck, Nassir’s right-hand man. The large African-American man had also been part of Novak’s crew when I was running the streets, but before things went to shit, he got in good with Nassir, obviously smart enough to see the writing on the wall. The tides were getting ready to turn, the people that had nothing to lose suddenly had their hearts tangled up in good women, and that made them far more dangerous than Novak had ever managed to be.
“I’m sure they would if I asked, but standing in the middle of a cold-ass river all day isn’t my idea of fun. What are you doing here, Gates?” I didn’t bother to ask how he’d found me. Witness protection was supposed to be foolproof, but there wasn’t much Nassir didn’t know and there wasn’t a single branch of the government or law enforcement that he didn’t have some kind of dirt on. Novak had been a thug and brute. Nassir was a goddamn criminal mastermind. No one was better at giving just enough rope for you to hang yourself with. He’d let you twist and kick in the wind and then offer to save you, but only if you agreed that you owed him a favor.