Page 59

The worst part, I don’t know how I’m going to react when I see him.
We walk into a posh suite. Everything is modern with sleek lines. Brushed silver and grays seem to be the color of choice of Big Daddy. The king of the Heights Crew obviously lives in opulence, which I highly doubt the same can be said for a lot of his members. Oscar, for one, who’s living with a junkie mother. He told me he wanted to get out of the Heights to make a better life for him and his mom, and this guy, who has the nicest place I’ve seen since coming to the Heights, holds him back.
I scan the room, taking in everything I can as we work our way through it. Voices rise from a different room, and my stomach fills with dread. The world around me fades away, and I fixate on a voice I’m sure has to be owned by the man I hate. Soon, I’ll be putting a face to a name. Everyone knows who Big Daddy K is, but not everyone has seen him. Despite how difficult it’s been being “claimed” by Johnny emotionally, it really has been the best thing for my plan. Not everyone gets this access.
We walk toward a section of couches facing each other in the main living area. There’s a man facing away from us, sitting on the edge of the couch. I bore a hole into the back of his head, but then another voice sounds.
It’s Oscar. I blink, surprised to see him here. He has a fucking football game tonight. He should be at school, making sure he’s at practice. Instead, he’s here. And how exactly? I just left him at the front entrance.
When the man facing away from us sees Johnny round the couches, he looks back, like he’s expecting to see someone new following him in. For all I know, Johnny or Magnum contacted him ahead of time to say we were coming. Then again, Johnny was a little preoccupied
The man stands. His body is clad in a slimming gray suit. He has dark hair, gelled back like a scene from Goodfellas, though he doesn’t have the Italian coloring. In fact, he looks like an older version of Johnny. His face is more refined. He has more taut lines and a bit of crow’s feet around his eyes. He’s aged in a way Johnny isn’t. In his looks, there’s a wisdom there. A look that tells me he’s seen some things. He knows things. He’s done things. And he sure as fuck doesn’t put up with shit.
Under all that, I see him for the monster he is. For the guy who killed two innocent people because it suited him.
I hate him.
I loathe him.
I want to chop his dick off and feed it to his dying body.
“This must be Kyla?” he says, that strong tenor I heard when I first walked in filling the room like he’s used to being listened to.
Johnny steps up. “Yes, this is Kyla Samson. Kyla, this is Big Daddy.”
For some reason, him being called Big Daddy makes me want to laugh. I half expected an overweight guy with bulging pants and a double chin. “Nice to meet you,” I say, as he puts his hand in mine, gripping my palm with a firm handshake.
I bite the inside of my cheek. My stomach upheaves. It feels like his murderous germs are crawling up my arms and infecting me. When he lets go, I use everything in me not to wipe my hand against my jeans.
“Oscar was just telling me what went down in the shithole of a school today.”
I glance at Oscar. He’s all dark and dangerous right now. He has his gang member mask firmly in place. You’d never know by looking at him that he has any aspirations other than to be Big Daddy K’s lapdog. You wouldn’t know about his mother. Or the shit he endured when he came back to the Heights. He was forced to join the Heights Crew out of self-preservation, but all that is gone when I look at him now.
“Something’s got to be done about Reynolds,” Johnny says. His face is red. I don’t know if I missed all the tension in him before, but he looks like he’s all fired up again. “He can’t be doing shit like that to our people.”
Big Daddy K gives me a once over. I stand up straight. His gaze is inspecting, like he’s trying to pick apart my flaws so he can exploit them. It definitely doesn’t feel like a look a father would give his son’s new girlfriend. But I already know what I have planned will go far deeper than that.
“Aww yes, to poor Kyla.” Big Daddy’s gaze stays on me. “My son’s choice.”
Johnny looks over at me affectionately. I, on the other hand, have no idea how to fucking react.
“I think I’d like to talk to Kyla alone, boys.”
My pulse picks up. Blood thumps in my neck and at my wrists.
“But—” Johnny interjects.
His father holds up a hand to stop whatever excuse is about to come out of his son’s mouth. “Give us a few minutes.”
I swallow and glance at Johnny. The look he gives me says even he’s a little scared of what’s about to happen.
Fuck me.
One-by-one, the guys leave the room. Oscar is the last, nodding at me as he leaves. It feels like he’s trying to tell me something, but I have no idea what that might be.
“Have a seat,” Big Daddy K says, motioning toward the couch behind me.
I walk calmly over to the space Oscar just vacated and sit. I lift a nonchalant expression and meet his eyes.