Hard Candy Saga (30 page)

“You already said that bullshit. Start talking . . . and fast. The way I see it right now is you were working for the bastards who killed my family the entire time.”

“Candy . . . I was never working for anyone who had anything to do with your family's murders, but I have a lot of information that may be of use to you. I have your father's books—all of his secrets, his life story,” Tuck said, his words coming out slowly and deliberately. Candice seemed to soften a bit.

“Where would you get my father's books from if you don't work for the fuckers who killed him?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

“It's a long story. We don't have time now. I want to show you some of the books and give you a different perspective on your family's past. I want to help you get away from here before you get hurt.”

“I can't get sidetracked right now. I will meet you at the Monte Carlo later tonight. You better come alone, or else you die,” Candice growled.

“Candy . . . you need to be careful. They are probably watching us right now,” Tuck cautioned.

“I'm a big girl. I can handle myself,” she said pointedly, reaching for the door handle. Before Tuck could take his next breath, Candice was out of the car and up the street.

Tuck picked up his cell phone to call Carlisle. He needed to gather up all of the files so he could hand them over to Candice.

The phone vibrated in his hand. “Shit!” He jumped, putting his hand over his heart.

“Hello,” Tuck barked into the phone.

Ear-shattering screams filtered through the receiver, threatening to burst his eardrums.

“Elaina! What's the matter? What?” Tuck felt his chest heave with effort. He dropped his phone and screeched away from the curb.

“Fuck!” Tuck screamed, taking off like a madman.

They were fucking with the wrong man's family. The game was about to change . . . drastically.

Candice, meanwhile, didn't bother to pull out until she saw Tuck leave, along with his tails. She got out of her car and disappeared down a side street. She dipped into a building before her followers could even get out of their cars.

She watched two men turn down the block, their ties flapping in the wind as they ran from building to building, peeking their heads inside doorways.

After a few minutes the men threw their hands up in exasperation. They were not very diligent in their efforts.

“So fucking impatient and predictable.” She smiled.

It was time for her to ramp up the heat on her marks. Candy knew she should have murked all of them as soon as she gained access to the house. Uncle Rock had told her about becoming personal with her marks; now she had to turn things up. She was back in her hard candy mode.

No man, woman or child would be safe from her wrath.

Guillermo DeSosa took a long pull off his cigarette. His hands shook involuntarily. He paced outside, near the spot he'd agreed on. He looked at his watch impatiently and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. He plucked his cigarette to the ground and began to walk away; his shoulders were slumped in disappointment.

“Did I keep you waiting long?” an effeminate male voice filtered through the crisp night air. The man seemed to materialize from thin air. That shit unnerved Guillermo; he reached for his waistband, jumpy and anxious. He was always on edge with these meetings, especially when he dealt with someone new.

Guillermo kicked himself for answering the Craigslist advertisement. Why didn't he just go his usual route?

“Shit! Don't you know better than to sneak up on a gangster's son?” he huffed, moving his jacket aside so the man could see his shiny piece. He wanted this man to know who would be in charge this evening. He avoided the man's direct gaze; it would be easier this way. They had already discussed through e-mail how things would work. Guillermo wanted to stay low-key, but he disclosed his father's status—just in case the man was thinking about setting him up.

“Pay me first, like we agreed, then tell me where to meet you,” the mysterious man said.

“It's all in the envelope,” Guillermo said, his voice quavering. He was taking a chance, and he knew it. When his desires took over, all logical thinking evaporated. Walking toward his car, Guillermo quickly placed a small white envelope on top of a black car that was parked three cars away from his.

Guillermo quickly picked up his pace and rushed to his car as if the Furies were on his heels. The man walked swiftly by, swiped the envelope from the car hood, then headed in the opposite direction of Guillermo's car. Guillermo was panting now as blood and adrenaline rushed to his brain. Once inside, he took a deep breath, looked around and pulled away from the curb. After all of these years, the heat of embarrassment still climbed from his chest and settled on his face when he set up these rendezvous. And each time, he felt dirty and ashamed. If his brother and his father knew about his secret lifestyle, he would definitely be excommunicated from the family or—worse—put to sleep like a horse with four broken legs.

The urges had started when Guillermo was just twelve years old; he had felt an overwhelming level of attraction, which he couldn't explain, for members of the same sex. The first time he remembered having a physical response to another boy was in the locker room after gym class. The physical education teacher had entered the locker room and instructed them all to disrobe and jump in the showers after a grueling day of climbing ropes. His friend had dropped his drawers right next to him and casually walked to the showers. As soon as he spied his friend's flaccid penis, he felt himself grow hard.

Guillermo had felt like reaching out and grabbing his friend in his most private area and even kissing him. His friend caught him staring and sent him a look that spoke volumes. Guillermo smiled nervously before running into the bathroom stalls and hiding.

Inside the stall he vomited into the toilet from the shame he felt. He sobbed uncontrollably and wondered what was wrong with him. Why couldn't he be like the other boys, interested in staring at women's breasts and butts? He smacked himself in the head, trying to beat the sordid thoughts out of his own brain.

It hadn't worked, of course. Every day afterward, Guillermo struggled with his identity and unnatural desires, learning to satisfy them in the most discreet ways possible.

When Guillermo spent time with his father and older brother, he acted the consummate ladies' man, even going as far as slapping women's asses in public. He was a wonderful actor and an accomplished liar. Though he often felt like a fraud, he felt these were necessary evils he must carry out to remain a part of the DeSosa family.

Guillermo was Rolando DeSosa's youngest son. He was also DeSosa's illegitimate son; he was the product of his father's well-known philandering. Guillermo's mother was a beautiful young girl who had newly arrived in America from Colombia; then she met Rolando DeSosa. Although he was married, DeSosa just couldn't resist her beautiful dark hair, butter-soft skin and sparkling green eyes. He was twenty-five years her senior when she discovered she was pregnant with his son.

She was the ultimate mistress and played her position well. When she was with DeSosa, she made him feel like he was the only man in the world. When she couldn't be with him due to his family obligations, she held her head high and waited for him to return. She never forced the issue of being number one in DeSosa's life; in turn, he respected her and always took care of her and her son.

DeSosa made sure Guillermo was well cared for as a child, although circumstances didn't allow him to spend as much time with Guillermo as with his legitimate son, Arellio. DeSosa had made sure Guillermo and his mother lived well in a posh New York City condo. He paid tuition for Guillermo's private schools and made sure he had the best of everything.

DeSosa didn't want Guillermo to be in the family business; he had been brutally honest with his son that he didn't believe he had the “heart” to carry out certain business matters. Guillermo had been livid with his father's proclamation and stormed out of his office. He'd gone on a rampage for an entire week. He needed to prove a point to his father.

Guillermo had broken out several windows in his school and set a fire in the school's gymnasium; then he took his rampage to the streets. He'd gotten on a city bus without paying his fare and once inside slapped an innocent woman in the face just for “looking” at him. His wannabe-gangster rampage came to a halt after he stabbed one of his classmates during an altercation, just barely missing the boy's lung.

When DeSosa picked Guillermo up from juvenile hall, he'd calmly asked his son, “You want in so badly, you do all this? Well, you got in. Not because of your stupidity, but because you would go through all of this to be with me . . . to be a part of this family. But you keep doing stupid shit and it will get you killed. Never draw attention to yourself unless it's absolutely necessary.”

Everyone in the DeSosa organization knew that Guillermo was soft, so they gave him all of the easy lifting. He sold weight to low-level drug dealers; he attended meetings with his father as a “second gun”; sometimes he rode shotgun with his brother when something slightly dangerous was going down. It suited him just fine. He was probably the most well-paid second-string gangster in New York City.

* * *

Guillermo pulled up to the Blake, a small hotel situated on a side street, out of the glaring New York City lights. He'd already picked up his room keys earlier in the day; the second key lay in the hands of his new prospect, nestled carefully in the envelope.

Inside the hotel lobby Guillermo looked around suspiciously. He nodded at the front-desk clerk, who stared at him a bit too long and hard. Guillermo always wondered if people recognized him as readily as they did his father and his brother.

The elevator seemed to take forever to get to the sixth floor. The familiar
ding
as the doors eased open was like music to his ears. Guillermo rushed out, but then he slowed his pace, not wanting to appear too eager. The hallway was a like a ghost town. He exhaled a sigh of relief; he hated seeing people milling about the halls. He always felt paranoid about running into one of his father's acquaintances, or meeting a set of judgmental eyes.

With trembling hands Guillermo used his key to enter the room. No matter how many times he did this, he was nervous all over again. It was dark inside. The only light came from a small candle, which was on the nightstand. He smirked to himself.

“You trying to be romantic?” he called out as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. There was no answer. Guillermo tossed his jacket aside and moved farther into the room.

“C'mon, I don't like playing games,” he called out.

Frustration and anxiety could be heard in his voice. He felt spooked by the dim lighting, so he reached over and flicked on a light. His boy toy must be getting ready in the bathroom. Guillermo didn't like waiting for anyone or anything, especially not after he'd been so long without a man.

“I'm taking off my clothes, which means get your ass out here and give me what the fuck I paid for,” he barked as he unbuckled his pants and stepped out of them. He figured his little plaything was playing hide the dick in the bathroom. Guillermo wasn't much for games. He planned to bust in that damn bathroom and shock the little punk-ass guy with a stiff dick in the ass. Guillermo stomped over to the bathroom door.

“You like to play these kinky games? Well, I'm going to show you who can do it best,” he called out, using one hand to rub his flaccid dick. He wanted to be ready to pound into that ass.

Guillermo snatched the bathroom door open, intending to surprise his date with his rock hard dick. Guillermo's mouth dropped open and his eyes threatened to pop out of their socket. His dick instantly went limp and his bladder released itself.

“What the—” Guillermo had started to speak, but then put his hands up in front of him defensively. It was too late. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He was half naked and completely defenseless without his weapon.

“P—please,” he managed to stammer out, but his words died in the air. He screamed like a bitch as he came face-to-face with the devil. He fell to the ground, feeling the cold porcelain tiles on his back. He could taste his own blood pooling in his mouth. Suddenly Guillermo's vision faded and his world went completely black.

* * *

Elaina barreled into Avon's chest like a bulldozer as he walked through the front door of her mother's house. He let out a puff of air and stumbled backward, caught off guard. She was sobbing, her body shaking uncontrollably.

“Shh,” he comforted, wrapping his arms around her protectively. He held her tightly for a few minutes and stroked the top of her head. Her body eased into his embrace and she seemed to calm down significantly in his arms.

Avon pulled her away from his chest so he could look at her face to make sure she wasn't hurt. Her face was blotchy and red from crying, but beautiful nonetheless. He felt his heart thump in his chest. At that moment he didn't care about the past, about her betrayal or the affair. Despite all that they had been through, he still loved his wife.

“Elaina, tell me what happened,” Avon said softly, gazing into her eyes.

“They—they . . . shot . . . Pfeiffer and the car. We had just gotten out.... They just missed me, the kids . . . oh my God!” she cried, collapsing back onto her husband's chest.

“What! Who?” Avon gasped. He felt like the air had been squeezed out of his lungs. They had come after his family, after all. He was livid, beyond rage.

“I don't know who! The gunshots were so loud! They hit the car like hail pellets. I screamed and grabbed the kids. We had just pulled into the driveway. Then . . . then Pfeiffer fell. He was bleeding all over the place. We pulled him inside the garage . . . but . . . he—he's dead!” She cried some more, her body quaking all over.

Avon flexed his jaw and hugged her even tighter now. His world was spinning off its axis. He couldn't believe Stokes actually came after his family like he'd threatened. This shit meant war.

Avon let Elaina go and started for the garage. His nostrils flared so hard that he thought he'd hyperventilate. He gritted his teeth and lifted his forearm over his nose at the unbecoming smell in the air. The metallic raw meat smell of blood threatened to make him hurl. He stepped over the dead dog and looked at the car. He surveyed the damage and surmised that the holes were made with a high-powered semiautomatic weapon.

Avon slammed his fists on the hood of his wife's car. He could feel adrenaline pulsing through his veins, fast and hot.

“We need to call the police,” Elaina said from the doorway. She interrupted Avon's murderous thoughts.

He looked at her, with fire flashing in his eyes. His hands were balled into knuckle-paling fists. “No, we are not going to call the local police. They won't do shit but bring more attention to the house. I will find out what happened. I will protect you and my kids, Elaina,” he assured her, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Where are the kids?” he asked, noticing the unusual silence in the house for the first time. “Where did you send my kids?” he persisted, stalking toward his trembling wife.

Elaina threw her hands up in the air. Her mouth was open, but no words were coming out. She seemed to be melting down before his eyes. Her mother in the backdrop scowling did not help the situation.

“Elaina! Where are my fuckin' kids?” Avon snapped, shaking her shoulders roughly. Panic was choking him around the throat.

“Oh God!” she cried, knocking his hands away, as if she were a victim of domestic violence.

Avon removed his hands from her person as if she were a hot stove that had just burned him.

“Elaina, I'm sorry. Please . . . tell me where the kids are.” He softened his tone, moving a few steps away from her. His heart hammered against his chest bone.

Avon grabbed his bald head and squeezed it, trying to calm himself down. He took a deep breath and put his hands out in front of his chest. He would be calm and reasonable with his wife.

“Baby, I'm not going to be angry. Just tell me where they are so I can protect all of you.” He steadied his voice, letting his anger subside like a flame smothered in dirt.

“I have them hiding in a closet downstairs,” she finally admitted, hanging her head as if she were the worst mother in the world. Relief washed over Avon; at least she hadn't done anything drastic or stupid. “Avon, I was scared. That's why I put them there.” She seemed to be stumbling in explanation.