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CHAPTER 5

Jourdan

Past

I knew how to shoot a gun, several of them, due to the profession my father had chosen. I’d been shooting since I was a pre-teen. He’d made sure of it. I was also trained in martial arts. My brother and I both were. Because I’d already conquered those skills, my father skipped the basics and refresher course, going straight to his master’s class on how to get away with murder.

This was the tenth day we’d followed Ahmad, one of my father’s transporters. I was eating up the fact that he was showing me the ropes. My mother hated that he was and that I was spending so much time around my father and Brice. She thought I would spend all my time with her while I was home from college over summer break. However, I was a daddy’s girl through and through. As we continued watching, I devoured the burger and fries from our favorite burger joint. We’d stopped because we knew where Ahmad was headed by now, so we had time. Every day I spent with my father, we’d sneak off to eat something greasy, hoping my mother wouldn’t find out. Because I loved to see my daddy sweat, I wouldn’t tell him about the ketchup he’d dropped on his shirt. I loved to watch their back-and-forth banter. I could only hope to have a relationship like theirs one day, filled with so much love.

In addition to being a loving father and husband, my father was the biggest drug dealer in LA, and Ahmad was skimming off the top. My job would be to eliminate him, but I had to learn how to first. I’d never killed anything before, let alone a person. I wasn’t even sure I could. For my family and father, I’d do it irrefutably.

My father wasn’t a loud show of force. He was calculating, wanting to catch you in the act and have unquestioned proof that you’d wronged him. He wanted me to be able to do the same.

“Do you know why we’ve been following this buster for this long, Baby Girl?” My father asked.

“I’m guessing to catch him in the act,” I replied.

“Don’t guess, know,” he said as his gaze caught my eye. Once he was sure he had my attention, he continued.

“Yes, to catch his ass in the act. Most importantly, I want to study him. See his routine and how he goes about his day. I want to know everything about this man. I want to know the most intricate details of his life. I need to know if he eats his burger with cheese, mustard, ketchup, lettuce, onions, and a few French fries on top.”

“Daddy?” I asked as he looked at me with his most serious expression that matched mine. I knew Ahmad didn’t eat that because that was how I’d just eaten the burger I’d scarfed down. I laughed hard. My father was never serious with me. We joked around like this all the time. He loved to keep his princess, as he called me, happy and laughing. He’d deemed us all a part of his royal family, labeling us as such. He eventually joined in on my laughing.

“I’m being serious, though, Baby Girl,” he said as he sobered his laugh. I hadn’t taken my eyes off Ahmad, who had exited his vehicle and entered the convenience store.

“He comes here every Wednesday at the same time. Why?” I spoke.

“Good job. My normal drop-off day is Wednesday at ten a.m. from random locations. Normally I would never have an exact time because it’s too predictable, not only for the fucking cops but for these young niggas that want the crown. I set this time up specifically for him. As you can see, he comes here right after to drop off what he skimmed from me. Then he comes back on Friday to pick up his money. My fucking money!” His voice rose in anger as he explained.

“The person he’s selling my product to works in that store.” I looked to my father to see how he could have gathered that much information.

“How do you know?” I asked as I focused on the store’s door to see when Ahmad would leave. It had been thirty minutes.

“You see, all this shit here is my jungle, and I’m the King. I wear the crown. I like to think of myself as a lion. I have a pride of motherfuckers that I trust to bring me back all the information I need. In essence, I have eyes everywhere. Do you understand? ”

“Yes, I understand.” I was listening, but wanted to know who was inside that store. I undid my seatbelt and reached for the handle to go find out.

“Where are you going?”

“Inside that store,” I returned.

“Not like that, you aren’t.” I gazed down, confused at my simple t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, to see why I couldn’t go in.

“I just told you that I was the king of this jungle. They’d recognize you as soon as you walked through the door. You’re my lioness. The lioness is the hunter. I will teach you how to strategically stalk and hunt your prey until you have enough information to take them down. You’re beautiful and tall, like your mother. Too beautiful, you’ll stand out. There will come a time when you’ll learn to use it to your advantage. I need you to learn to blend in. I don’t want them to see you coming unless you want them to. Also, I want you to avoid your brother and his part in the business. Please don’t ask questions; never go around when he’s conducting it. It will always be our advantage if they don’t know who you are, in case I need to send you after them,” he said as I nodded in understanding.

“Most of your targets will be easy, but never underestimate anyone I send you after. They’ll be bigger, stronger, and faster, but none of that shit will matter once I’m done with you.” I nodded again as the door opened, and Ahmad walked out; he’d been inside for forty-two minutes. We watched as he got into his car and pulled away from the curb. Shortly after, my father did the same, following him .

Past- Four Months Later

“You come in here often? I would remember seeing someone as beautiful as you. I come here every night.” The gangly white man I was sitting beside asked. His skin was pale, his face sunken in, and his eyes held a yellow jaundice that showed the years of his alcoholic habit. I was sure he’d been handsome at some point in his life. However, I wasn’t a therapist, nor did I care what had driven him to the bottle. What I did care about was what that bottle had caused him to do.

“No, this is my first time.” I smiled and fluttered my lashes. Lashes that were heavy with mascara and caked with heavy eye shadow. My entire face was exaggerated with a full face of makeup. With the added wig, I was unrecognizable. He took his glass, raising it to take another sip of the whiskey he’d constantly thrown back for the last hour. At twenty-one, I was of drinking age, but tonight, I needed a clear head, so I opted for a Coke to give off the appearance that it was a mixed drink.

“It must be my lucky night, then,” he said as he raised his hand to twirl a strand of hair from the wig I was wearing around his thin finger. I cringed at the act, but I didn’t waver; I was there to seduce him. I crossed my legs, drawing his eyes to my exposed thighs in the short, body-hugging mini-dress I was wearing.

I had been following Trip Callahan for three weeks. I was there the night the state of California released him from prison, sitting in the shadows. Which led me to this bar every night to watch him. Trip was an old money trust fund baby who was a world-class fuck-up and took full advantage of his white privilege. After only three months inside, he’d somehow managed to be released after killing my mother by being drunk behind the wheel.

Callahan had found his way onto Ten, traveling one hundred twenty miles per hour before losing control and barreling into my mother’s car. She’d lost her life on the way home from the hospital where she was a nurse, while he’d walked away with mere scratches. I sat in the back of the courtroom, hopeful, as the judge told him he would sit in jail until his arraignment. When his court date arrived, his lawyer had found a way to swindle his client out of being charged.

Money buys every fucking thing!

Because of my mother’s death, what my father and I worked on never came to fruition. Our world was swiftly flipped upside down, and I found myself swimming in grief. We all did because she was our Queen, our everything. My father had become despondent, and my brother rarely came home at night. He threw himself into school and the streets even more than before. Each day without her felt heavy and dark. I finally let that darkness consume me, embracing the feeling that led me here to avenge her and kill Trip Callahan.

“Hey, do you want to get a room?” I asked seductively as I ran my fingers down his arm. His touch made my hands feel like they were on fire, or maybe my blood was boiling from my anger. I tried to hide the recoil of my face as he haphazardly threw back the remainder of the brown liquid .

“How much?” He asked. I tempered my disdain and curtly smiled.

It figures he’d think I was a damn sex worker.

“How much can you afford?” I spoke his language because guys like him loved throwing their money around. It was how they measured dicks. I'd guessed he was small, considering how much money he had to throw away.

“Well, that depends. We can discuss it upstairs. Get us a room. I’ll wait here.” I said with another smile. He nodded, and my eyes followed his path as he left for the concierge to secure one. He was staggering, barely making it to the desk. Moments later, he returned to retrieve his prize for the night, which was me. I followed his drunken body. He reeked with the stench of all the alcohol he had consumed. I held my breath to stop the bile from coming into my mouth.

I was also getting nervous because I’d never done this before. However, I let my nerves fuel me instead of backing out of what I would do. The elevator opened, and we went inside. His skinny fingers pushed the number three repeatedly as the doors closed. In silence, we ascended, with him giving me his best smile, which I barely returned. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened upon its arrival.

“After you,” he said as I stepped out and waited for him to lead the way. I followed him as he staggered to his assigned door, room three hundred and eight. He fumbled with the key before clumsily dropping it to the floor. He searched for it until I helped him out of his daze .

“Allow me,” I said as I reached down to retrieve the key, using it and pushing the door open. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the shade, which had been opened a third of the way. He bumped his way inside, fumbling with his pants. I stood just behind him as he dropped them around his ankles. Then he quickly spun around and grabbed me with all his strength. I was pinned against his partially naked body as he brought his mouth towards mine.

Shit!

I was finally able to fight him off, pushing and dodging before his mouth could touch me. It was a good thing that he was drunk. I regained my composure, putting on the face that said I could do this.

“Come and get me hard, his voice carried through the room. I sauntered over, still playing the part. By the time I’d reached him, he’d lain back on the bed. I stood before him as his eyes closed. After a moment, his breathing had evened out.

What the fuck? Did he pass out?

I continued to observe him, making sure that he was, in fact, drunk off his ass. I scanned his body, finally landing on what he thought was worth my time.

Just like I thought, his dick is small.

The longer I looked at him, the more enraged I became. I wanted to take a pillow and smother him to death. Instead, I reached into my purse and took out one of its contents. The first was my nine; the second was the silencer. I attached it to the end of my gun, contemplating whether I wanted to do this. Before I could overthink longer, I stood beside him, reaching up to place a pillow over his face. Once it was there, I pulled the trigger. I stood watching the blood saturate the stark white comforter. I couldn’t breathe. I was on the verge of a panic attack. I’d done it. I put my hands to the sides of my head, along with the gun, and my finger still on the trigger. My eyes widened at what I was witnessing.

Before the panic could set in, I heard fumbling at the door. I quickly backed further into the darkness and turned to train my gun directly at the door. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath because I would have to kill two people tonight.

“JoJo,” Brice called out. He walked in with my father’s steps behind him. He came directly to me and embraced me.

“Princess, let it go,” my father said as he pried the gun from my hands.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked.

“Do you remember what I told you? I’m the king of this jungle, Lioness. I protect the pride, and my pride keeps eyes on my throne," he said as he took my chin into his fingers and scanned my face.

“Did he touch you?” He asked.

“No,” I shook my head. After ensuring I was ok, he went to stand over Trip’s body, letting off two more quick shots.

“I love you, Journee,” I heard him whisper my late mother’s name.

“Weirdo motherfucker,” he said right after .

“You did good, Baby Girl. I’ll make sure you get better, though. If this is what you still want to do.” I looked into his eyes, swelled with pride, and nodded. The old me was gone. She was with my mother.