Brutal (11 page)

When I was wrapping up with Miguel, I got a tip from one of the girls. After reading the message I decided I needed to pay Ricky a visit in person. What can I say about Ricky? Well, to start, we share a common goal: clean the streets. Yes, he’s a criminal, however he also keeps the balance out here, and you don’t fuck with the balance out here. It’s not my place to judge him; over the years he’s had my back and I’ve had his. The reasons are my own, but I will tell you that for the past ten years my life has been a dark one, and Ricardo ‘Ricky’ Rios has kept me as close to the light as possible, yet has covered for me when the darkness took over.

Ricky may not know exactly what drives me, but he understands I’m driven, just as I understand he’s a businessman. He doesn’t mess with my game, and I don’t mess with his. Oddly enough, he’s one of the nicest guys I know. So when I show up on his turf, he welcomes with me a hug, followed by a kiss on each cheek, while his boys stand guard.

“Thought I might be seeing you today, Hermosa,” he says while looking me over. “You need to eat, come inside.”

“Wish I could, Ricky, but I need a quick word before I get to work tonight,” I say, looking up at him. Did I mention Ricky is really tall? “Got a problem, thinking you might be having one, too.”

“What’s the problem's name?”

“A name, I don’t have,” I explain. “However, what I do know is, hitters are coming in from Miami. Word is they want the streets now. Plan is to start at the bottom, and work their way up the food chain, and you’re the top of the food chain.”

“You worried about me?” he asks, smiling. I cannot help but admire his gold teeth; works of art, really.

“And if I was?”

“You’d be the only one,” he whispers. “What else do I need to know?”

“I took Miguel out, saved you the headache,” I tell him. “He’s working at the club now, so he’s one less to worry about, but word has hit the DPD, plus the higher ups at the club are talking, and some are even scrambling. Girls are missing, cops can’t help, so I want you to be safe, and know that I’m here if you need me.”

“You know I got nothing but love and respect for you, Kharma,” he says, putting an arm around me, but not pulling me close. “I worry about you. Word is you got a cop watching your back now?”

“That was fast. Nothing gets by you, does it?” I laugh. “I guess the secret's out. Yeah, he’s got my back, since the crazies can’t seem to stay away from it. Max and Tony out voted me.”

“When it comes to you? I make it a point to be in the know. What I hear is he’s a good cop, or was, since he’s a detective now,” he admits. “He keeps you safe, we got no problems. Just don’t bring him ‘round here, and don’t tell those two he’s a cop neither. Fuck.”

Laughing, I lean into him and whisper, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ricky, but cop bullshit aside, I’m safe with him.”

“I know, Hermosa,” he says in a serious tone. “That’s why he’s still breathing.”

“Okay,” I surrender. “I’ve said my piece. I want you safe, Ricky. You keep those eyes open always. Sleep with them open if you have to.”

“I may be losing a few things, Kharma, but my touch isn’t one of them.” He laughs. “You watch your back, too. You know how to reach me if things get hot, and I promise to do the same.”

“Fair enough,” I say. “I’ll be seeing you around, then, and say hey to Rita for me.”

“Will do, Hermosa,” he says, then signals his boy Luis over to walk me back down the block. I wave to Ricky, thank Luis, ask him about his mother and sisters. Then I haul ass back to my place to get ready for work and the arrival of the detective, and dammit if that didn’t have me practically skipping back.

S
o Ricky knows I’m a cop. That shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve never got on his case but, as proven in the past, nothing gets past this guy. And he’s fond of Venessa which, I’ll admit, pisses me off, but even I can see it’s a solid friendship nothing more, at least not on her end. The way he sizes her up, though? Fuck. I should probably be more concerned about her affiliation with Ricky and his crew, but honestly? I’m not. My main concern is what he wants with her, and if ever intends to do something about it. I’ll think more on that later, because right now I’m ignoring his advice and approaching anyway.

“Curious what you’re doin’ here, Detective,” he says, coming up next to me. He’s a lot fucking slicker than I previously gave him credit for.

“Guessin’ you know who I am,” I say. “Also guessin’ you know why I’m here.”

“Got an idea.” He smiles. “But not all ideas are good ideas, my friend, so before this gets bloody, you’ve got about three seconds to convince me to let you walk outta here.”

“Kharma,” I say, straight to the point.

“What about her?” he asks. He's not backing away, but he's not calling his boys off, either

“You two got history,” I begin wanting, my point made. “I ain’t got no problem with history, long as you ain’t playin’ at a future with her, get what I’m sayin'?”

“You got cojones, my friend,” he says lowering his voice, but continues stepping closer. “You been in her life hours, my friend, hours. I been in her life years. We know shit about each other, and that’s got nothing to do with you. You protect her, we got no issues. You comin’ here to warn me off her? That was a mistake. You get one mistake, detective, one.”

“Answer the question,” I growl. “You wantin’ a future with her? Or is this just business?”

“And if it was both?”

“Business, I got no problem with,” I say. “She’s with me, so I’m here outta respect, letting you know that.”

When Ricky started laughing, it didn’t take a genius to figure out it wasn’t from humor. His boys caught on, and each flanked me moving in, at last count there were eight.

“If I thought I stood a chance with her, she’d be inside my house right now making me dinner, naked,” he says, serious, then he looks down, noticing my clenched fists. “Known her for going on ten years,” he continues. ”Saved my ass from being taken out, never asked questions. Not one. Saved me, brought me home, never said a word. That girl doesn’t let no one close. But you? She lets close. She told me she feels safe with you. She never feels safe, so for that, you’re breathin’. If my life wasn’t a fucking circus, and I thought I stood a chance at makin’ her feel safe, you wouldn’t be breathin'. So, we done here?”

“We’re done.”

“You want her to feel safe?” he asks, but I just stand there waiting for what comes next. “Never show your face ‘round here again. As long as she’s safe, you get to breathe. Now get the fuck gone.”

Turning away from me, he walks right back into his place like just seconds ago he wasn’t prepared to kill me on a public street. His boys follow suit, leaving me standing on an empty street, feeling like a fucking king. Ricky Rios and I have an understanding.

Checking the time, I haul ass home to shower, call the Cap, strategize, and pick Venessa up for our first official night as partners.

W
hen Rogan picked me up tonight, he kept looking at me funny, but didn’t say much, except that the Captain’s waiting on my answer. I don’t have an answer yet, because I haven’t figured out the Captain’s play. Add sitting next to Rogan, it was impossible to think about anything other than him. So instead of saying anything, I stared out the window, hoping to regulate my breathing.

Normally, when I’m up here, I tune out the faces in the crowd, but it’s impossible to tune out the hulking man who is just feet away, making sure I’m safe. I can feel his heat from here, warming me up. The crowd is hot tonight…Saturdays always get pretty insane. We’ve got a home game for the Lions tonight, and though no one really comes for the team per se, they flock here after in the hopes of seeing any of the players. Chances are good a few will show. At least that’s what I’m told. I  also couldn't care less.

My first set is designed to get in their heads. I may not drink, but the people who come here do, and whether they come to meet friends, co-workers, fuck or forget, the music is key. No one is immune to Eminem in Detroit. He’s one of us, and always will be. He’s come here a few times, and the walls could barely hold the crowd. He’s the shit. So when I open with “Welcome to Detroit City”, even the people tuning out the music can’t help but get crazy.

As I prep my cue, I wonder what Rogan thinks of all this. Is he a music guy? He isn’t a club guy, I know that much. I’m not, either, outside of this place. I can ask him later, since he’s coming home with me and all. I take off my headphones and Blu shines the lights on me, so I grab the mic and greet my crowd. I love what I do, I love who I am up here. I love that the crowd took the time out of their busy lives to come here and let go for a bit. I owe them a night to remember, and maybe a few fights just as a thank you.

“Detroit!” I yell, and their screams excite me. They realize I’m about to go live so they crowd the platform. That has always bothered me but I understand they want to get as close to the music as possible. I just don’t want them near me. “Welcome to Lush, everyone. I’m so fucking happy to see you tonight.” While the screaming continues, I notice that there are more men usual, and I’m relieved to have Rogan behind me right now.

“So, I have a question for y’all...” I let the anticipation build “Did the Lions win tonight?” The boos and cups flying always crack me up, every damn time. This is why our drinks are served in plastic, not glass. “No? Well that’s alright, they play Dallas next week, so what do you say we meet up again same time same place, yeah?” The crowd is balls out right now. They love this shit; they love any reason to give it to the Lions.

“Because…Detroit City
knows
Kharma always delivers, so fuck those Lions! Let’s do this shit! Where are my gangsters and all my thugs at? Welcome to motherfuckin’ Detroit!” I scream. And when the place erupts, the cue kicks in and the crowd shows Eminem some serious love. I’m pretty sure he’s smiling. Wherever he is, he feels it, and he should. He’s the fucking master.

Eminem 1

Lions 0

As the first set fades, I grab a drink and walk over to Rogan who looks, well…constipated, to be honest.

“How are you holding up?”

“Too many people here,” is his reply.

“When we hit max capacity, security will close the doors.”

“You have two males watching you, so stay away from the edge of the platform. Don’t give them an opening,” he growls, alerting me to their presence.

“Which side?” I ask, frustrated I didn’t take notice…hence the bodyguard.

“Your left.”

“Thanks. Got another hour in you?” I ask.

“I’m good.”

“Alright, pizza’s on me when we get home,” I say, and by the look on his face, ’home’ coming out of my mouth was a shock to both of us.

“I like pizza,” Rogan says awkwardly, and it’s adorable.

“I like pizza, too,” I smile.

“Get back to work,” he grunts. “I got your back.” Then he smiles at
me,
and it’s a shock that goes directly to my clit. The sensation is better than any vibrator I’ve ever owned, and let’s just say I own plenty.  I find myself wanting to do anything and everything I can to make him smile like that every day. I have no idea how to flirt, so I wink and hope he gets the point. Please get the point, and don’t think I have something caught in my eye, because I suck at this.

Having him here was fun, not awkward even a little bit, so I decided to have even more fun. Fading the last track out then bringing in an old favorite of mine, I let it loop, get in front of the platform and start shaking my ass to ‘Bitch Betta Have My Money’.

When the lights shine on the crowd, I venture a look and see they’re having a great time, so I dance a little harder, dirtier, earning me someone’s bra, a business card, and a murderous look from Rogan.

He approaches, pulling me back behind the platform, which earns him a lot of ‘boos’, but what I got was a lot worse.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing right now?” he growls in my face.

“Twerking,” I say. “Why?”