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CHAPTER 4

Jourdan

I stormed into my office after finally making it home. I ripped the Porter’s Steakhouse uniform from my body, watching the buttons fly across the room. As I continued in my fit of rage, the syringe and pills I’d placed there flew out when I’d ripped the sleeve over my wrist, along with that damn eyelash.

You have got to be kidding me!

That further increased my anger. I was pissed. I’d left Porter’s without accomplishing a damn thing. I went in there on a mission and failed, and I never failed a mission.

That beautiful fucking bastard!

I knew that calling a man beautiful was unorthodox, but damnit, fine, wasn’t strong enough for the feelings he provoked in me. It didn’t help that while the sexiest man I’d ever seen stood before me, my faulty false eyelash had become the main character in my act, the irony of it all . I’d forgotten to fix my damn makeup. I wanted to scream and punch the air because I’d let that man see me frazzled. I’d never felt this way about a man; I couldn’t trust them aside from my brother. They were all the same in my world. I’d witnessed men spending years weaseling their way into your lives. They’d gain your trust through a false sense of loyalty only to shoot you in the back... literally.

As I plopped down in my office chair, I pulled my hair out of the bun and scrunchie to let it cascade around my face. It was plush, but not enough to ease the tension I felt. I teased my hair through my hands, grabbing the roots and tugging. I groaned and internally scolded myself. I should have gone with my first thought that security was there. I’d let my eagerness win because I would have been one step closer to my goal. This wasn’t me; I was a trained killer, a gun for hire. I would typically have it all planned out and would have anticipated his presence, but tonight, I didn’t. I was moving off my emotions.

When he stood, I was taken aback. He was tall, around six feet and four inches. His muscular build was accentuated by smooth, tawny brown skin, which I assumed was covered in deep black ink. I could tell by the tattoos on his neck underneath his white button-down shirt. The top buttons were undone, further teasing my vision of what was underneath. Then there were those kissable lips surrounded by a close-cut but thick beard that led to his slick black hair, which held curly ringlets. I wanted to run my fingers through them.

Ugh!

It was his eyes that made me grab at my chest. I’d never had a man look at me that way. Even though he was teasing, he looked at me like he had all the answers to my questions or would do anything to help me find them. I couldn’t control the damn goosebumps that appeared on every inch of my skin and the arousal that his gaze caused. Then he chuckled, and his ass had the nerve to have dimples. It immediately pissed me off. That, and I wouldn’t be getting my answers from Burks, at least not tonight. Nonetheless, those eyes holding me captive also held amusement and danger. They told me that he wasn’t about any bullshit, and I believed him.

Backing down from anyone, man or woman, would never cross my mind, but this man gave me pause. I didn’t know why, but I would figure it out. I finally powered up my laptop, starting my investigation. I began with Porter’s by hacking their database and pulling up their security feed. Which only took me a few minutes. Not that a steakhouse needed top-notch security, but it had been child’s play to crack.

What the hell?

There was nothing there. The computer server had been wiped clean; the only explanation was that he had beaten me to it.

Shit! Who in the hell is he? Ok, maybe he’ll pull up in a quick internet search.

My fingers moved in rapid succession as I typed in local private security. As I scrolled down the list, one caught my attention: Rockwell Security. I clicked on the link to open the webpage. I’m not even sure how this entity garnered any business because the webpage was shitty.

I wonder if they’d let me fix it. Shit, don’t get sidetracked, JoJo.

As I continued to peruse the site, I saw that Rockwell Security wasn’t just a local firm; it was nationwide. Before I could click on the “ about us” section, my cell phone rang; it was Tayla.

“Hello,” I answered dryly.

“Eww, what in the hell has your panties all in a bunch?” I took a deep breath. I swear, Tay and Brice had a knack for calling when I was distressed. I took another deep breath to calm myself. I hadn’t planned on telling her my business tonight, if ever.

“What’s the deal, Jourdan? You know I will keep asking until you tell me anyway,” she goaded. I didn’t feel like fighting her on it.

“I failed a mission tonight,” I huffed out.

“Ok, I didn’t know you’d taken on any jobs. I didn’t assign you any...” There was a long pause. She was waiting for me to tell her about it. Tayla grew up with me. Her family, much like mine, was into illegal activities. Her family consisted of her mother, Nina, who worked under my father. She’d since retired from the game, but Tayla picked up where she had left off. She didn’t handle the product like her mother had, but coordinated my gun hire contracts and occasionally took a few herself. Her money was made in espionage. I’d never met her father or even seen him. I’m not sure she had either. They didn’t talk about him; they never had. From what I understood, he wasn’t even there to sign her birth certificate. Tay wasn’t as deadly, but she knew the ins and outs of my lifestyle, my family's lifestyle, and what we did. She was the only person who knew everything my brother and I were into .

“It wasn’t a job per se, more like a personal undertaking,” I finally said.

“Jourdan, when will you let that go and come home?”

“I can’t. Something is telling me that I need to stay and that all the answers I’m looking for are here,” I rushed out.

“So, I’ve heard,” she sighed.

“Who is that? JoJo?” I heard my brother ask in the background. Then there was muffling before she came back clear on the line.

“When are you going to tell me about you and my brother? I really don’t give a damn who either of you are fucking even if it’s each other,” I said, exasperated with this conversation. Just as I thought now that the heat was on them, they didn’t have shit to say. So, I finally clicked on the drop-down menu and entered the ‘ about us’ page. There, he was pictured as the owner of Rockwell Security.

Stephon Rockwell.

“Hey, Tay, put my brother on the phone.” Before my brother spoke, I heard rustling.

“What’s the deal, JoJo?” He asked.

“Um, what’s your ‘ business ’ partner’s name again?” I knew his name; I’d heard it a million times. For some reason, I needed to listen to it again to confirm.

“It’s Stephon. You already know that, though, so why are you asking?”

“Brice, let me call you back.”

“Jourdan, think twice before you hang up on me!” He said right before I hung up, effectively ending the conversation. I knew he would call back, but I wouldn’t answer. Then, knowing my brother, he would be dropping in on me in the next few days because of it. Like I thought, my phone began to ring again before it stopped. Then, it rang again before my phone dinged, alerting me to a voicemail. We were all we had left and were as thick as thieves. Because of our lifestyle, my mother’s family had distanced themselves, and my father’s side, we didn’t know. I knew he wanted me back in California and would drag me back if he thought that I was risking my life out of his sight. I sat and let my fingers tap the desk rapidly before I stood and paced.

Of the two years my brother was named one of the tops by One, I’d never been around Stephon or Rock, as he was known in the underworld. I knew just enough information to help my brother out when needed, but never anything that would compromise my position there. I knew names and only a few faces by design.

Damnit, JoJo.

I’d been so consumed with the murder of my father that my inside line to everything Brice and the business hadn’t even been thought about since I left. I was supposed to be his secret right hand. I had taken on that role after my father died. According to my father, I wasn’t supposed to, but we had no one else. I made sure never to show my face because I was still the fucking Lioness.

Shit! I’m about to have a breakdown .

Regardless, I wouldn’t have known if I were around him because they were always masked. I’d only met the three brothers unmasked when one of them, Dorien, had gotten shot. The next was when Demitri called me here to handle one of his associates, who was a woman. The only way that I had seen them was because they wanted me to. Otherwise, I would have been just as in the dark about them. Their hidden alters would forever remain hidden; they were just that fucking good. I’d never been introduced to any of the proxies, one of whom was Rock. I stopped pacing and headed to the kitchen; I desperately needed a glass of wine, maybe two.

Standing inside the refrigerator door, I pulled out the chilled bottle of Taylor Port, uncorked it, and turned it up. I stood at the island looking at the marble counters and black stainless-steel appliances that drew me into buying the house, and sighed. Even admiring my pride and joy didn’t change how I felt. Finding out that Stephon Rockwell was the man in the private dining room made my stomach recoil. There was no way I could allow the attraction I felt for him to build. He couldn’t be trusted. How was I to know that one day, he wouldn’t try to take out my brother and me because he wanted sole control of the business? He was dangerous enough to do it, probably the most dangerous man I’d ever encountered. The stories of Rock around the underworld and what my brother had told me before confirmed that.

Those questions mirrored the same questions I needed answered concerning my father. A man like Rock, someone my family had trusted with unquestioned loyalty, had killed him seven years ago. Whoever they were had turned my fucking world upside down again and took him from me. I’d been searching for everyone involved ever since. Brice and Tayla had tried to convince me over the years that it wasn’t that type of murder. It was just a part of the game, they said. I knew what a hit looked like because my father had taught me how to conduct one. Tayla should have known too. My late father, Brian Washington, had taught us everything we knew.