In the twelve days since I’d brought her here, I’d spent practically every moment watching her like a hawk. I could pick her out in a crowd of thousands of people, if I were an artist, I could sketch her features from memory. Even so, I was having an impossible time making myself understand that whoever that girl was in the video, wasn’t the girl in front of me now. Again, where had they found the video? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to. It was fucking sick.

She’s safe, I kept repeating to myself. But for how long? If she tried to escape again and one of them got ahold of her, I didn’t know if they would listen to Romero’s orders about not touching her.

Well . . . what I’d told them Romero’s orders were. “Take the girl and do whatever it takes to make the department release us,” he’d said to me. By that time, harming her was out of the question. It wasn’t just because she was female; it was because it was her. I couldn’t stand the thought of any of my brothers laying a finger on her, let alone torturing her.

When Romero gave an order, he only gave it to the person who was supposed to carry it out. With him in prison, none of us had an option other than trusting each other that we had relayed them correctly. Besides, if you changed an order, or didn’t follow through . . . Romero would have you put out. There’d never been a thought to go against him like this . . . until she came into my life.

We wouldn’t hurt her fiancé—that hadn’t been a lie—even though he and his partner were the reason all this was happening in the first place. But Romero was sure this would work, and the brothers would do anything to get the core of our family back together. So until the department gave in to the demands, they were going to continue to get very authentic-looking pictures, videos, phone calls, and packages that suggested the girl asleep on that mattress was going through hell on earth.

Not that I would say anything to Marco or Jaime, but I knew eventually they were going to test the hair and blood and find out neither belonged to her. Just like eventually one of the brothers was going to slip up somehow and the detectives would realize everything had been faked. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who realized that, but I’m positive everyone was banking on the fact that Romero and the main brothers would be released before then.

Despite who and what I was, I felt bad for her fiancé. We may not be causing him physical harm, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being tortured far worse than she could imagine. I couldn’t even imagine what he was going through as he looked for her and got the “evidence of torture” the guys had been sending.

If I’d lost someone like her, I’d fucking lose my mind. And he didn’t just lose her—she’d been taken from him.

If people were torturing my girl, I’d hunt them down and kill them. And I had no doubt that was exactly what he planned to do.

She rolled over on the mattress, and even through the dark of the room, I could make out her bare legs curled up to her stomach. Images of how she looked when she got out of the shower tonight hit me hard, and I welcomed each and every one of them.

I wasn’t a fucking idiot. I knew she was going to drown in the shirts I’d gotten her. But I’d spent four months watching her every move as we waited for the right time to put our plan into action. Seeing her walk around in nothing but an overly large shirt had become one of my favorite things. So when given the opportunity of choosing what she wore, it had been simple . . . and worth the torture it would put me through.

I held my breath when I heard a harsh huff come from her. Every night she did this, and every night I felt like even more of an asshole.

“Stop . . . please,” she pled. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and after repeating those two words a few more times, she was silent.

I wanted to take whatever nightmares she was having away, but I had no doubt I was the source of them. Who wouldn’t have nightmares of being kidnapped? Especially after being kidnapped and kept in a tiny fucking room with the man who had taken you. Raking my hands over my face again, I wanted to die in that moment. Just like I had every night I’d heard her beg someone to stop. I didn’t want to be a part of kidnapping her. I didn’t want to be in this life.

But I didn’t have a fucking choice.

Like I said, when given direct orders from the head of your crew, the rest of the brothers don’t question them. They carry them out. When you’re the one who let the only blood relative of the head of your crew get murdered, you’re the one that’s chosen to carry out the bad orders. Every. Time.

I’d had a nightmare of a childhood. My mom skipped out when I was young, my pop had been in prison most my life, and the uncle who raised me had always been strung out. When I turned fourteen, he’d celebrated my birthday by bringing in one of his gang’s whore’s daughters so I could become a man. He’d rewarded me with bags of smack he wanted me to sell at school for him.

My best friend, Dre Juarez, had been my only way to escape my uncle at the time. His brother headed up a neighborhood gang, and they’d always provided a sense of loyalty for me. But I hadn’t wanted to be in a gang . . . even back then. I’d seen what it had done to my old man, and I’d had to live through the shit with my uncle. No matter how normal Romero Juarez’s house seemed, I wanted a different kind of normal.

That all went to shit when I turned sixteen. Uncle was demanding I join, or get out, and I didn’t have anywhere to go but to Dre’s brother. Dre was already fully in, had been for years, and the rest of the brothers were ready to welcome me. That weekend my uncle was arrested, and it was all over the streets that his boys blamed me.

One night they came looking for me, and in looking for me, ended up murdering Dre instead. It’d been a drive-by that I hadn’t even been present for; I’d been hooking up with some chick from school. But after that, I hadn’t had a choice, Romero made me join as a payment for getting Dre killed. The other half of the payment was retribution on the men involved in the drive-by.

Those were the first three men I killed. But they hadn’t been the last in the eight years since I’d gotten in. Most of the brothers could do as they pleased, as long as they followed the rules. Me? If I didn’t do what Romero asked, Romero swore he would make me join Dre six feet under. I hated this life, and I hated who I’d become. But I swore to myself that one day I would get out and start over far away from this shithole. Now, more than ever, I was craving that life because of the girl not ten feet away from me. I would get out . . . someday. Until then, this fucked-up family was all I had.

About four years ago, the core of our family—the “originals”—started cooking up and dealing meth out of a house in the ghetto. Part of initiation into the gang was spending a year there; after that, you were introduced to the rest of the family. From there you could choose to come and help keep the family running, or stay in the meth house. Or, as Romero liked to put it: “work or play.” Close to a year and a half ago, Romero started up saying two of the new brothers were cops. He was so sure they were and was waiting for things to play out. But that waiting had cost him, and the rest of the cores, their freedom. Every member in the meth house was in prison now, including all of the originals.

Once the two cops started showing back up around Florida after a few months of lying low, Romero had Jaime and I begin the long journey of making them . . . disappear . . . in a way that couldn’t come back on the family. It would have been a perfect time for me to try and get out. But Jaime and Marco had taken over the family and were stricter than the originals had been. A week before we were supposed to do the hit, one of the pigs got a girl, and everything changed. Jaime was sent to watch the cops, and I was to track the girl’s every move.

Over the next four months, that’s exactly what I’d done.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t just tracked her every move. I’d fucking fallen for her. A girl who, at the time, I’d never spoken to. And now . . . a girl who would always hate me.

9

Kash

JUMPING OUT OF MY TRUCK, I put my hood up and kept my head low. I was well known in this part of town, as was Mason, starting back before we’d been made while we were with Juarez’s crew. People knew us for the gangs we had been in, and now people knew us because we were in the gang unit.

For the most part, the residents around here were cool with us. They knew our background, and knew that we tried to help them when shit went bad around here. Which was pretty much all the time. But that didn’t mean they didn’t start alerting the entire damn neighborhood that cops were nearby when they saw us either.

Looking around to make sure activity looked normal, I waited until I spotted the lookouts. When I was sure they were going about business as usual, not noticing me, and people weren’t running into their houses, I took off through an alley behind me. Turning on Second Street, I walked and rounded the corner at Maple before slowing down. Just before I hit Third Street, I ducked my head even lower and looked to the left as I brought my right hand up the back of my head and over. Just as I hit my forehead, I paused and tapped twice with my index finger before dropping my arm and continuing my slow walk.

Not more than four steps later, another pair of feet came up next to me.

“What up?”

I snuck a quick glance and tried not to smile to myself. Shawn. Little, gangly Shawn. Exactly the kid I’d been hoping for. I fucking hated that they were sending him out to confirm their deals, but at least he would scare easy.

“Nice night, yeah? Lots of stars out.” His voice shook as he looked back and forth.

I knew this game, and I knew it well. “If nights are what you’re into.”

Shawn tried to look in my hood at my response, and I dipped my head lower. “Yo, man. I think you’re on the wrong street if you’re looking for something else. The walkers are on Seventh.”

“Street’s right. I’m just not looking for stars, understood?”

“All we got are the stars out here, ya feel? I think you best find your way home.” He started to turn around, so I hurried to make my request.

“No price tonight. I don’t want stars. I want to see the Sun.”

“Sun’s not out, ya know?”

“I’m sure the Sun will make an exception.” Turning my head toward him, I quieted my voice so it wouldn’t carry over the street. “You say my name out loud, or you make me, I put Sunny and his boys away for this operation they got going on. And since you’re out here setting up drug deals, then that means you’d go down too. If you cooperate, then I don’t say a fucking word. Got me, Shawn?” His body started to tense so I spoke quickly. “You alert a lookout, and you’re all in prison, I’m not playing around. I want. To see. The Sun.”

Shawn worked at relaxing his body and turned to face me as he pulled his phone out. I lifted my head enough that he could see my face, but not so much that anyone watching us would be able to. His eyes widened momentarily, but he did a good job at remaining calm and searching through his contact list.

“I help you,” he said so soft I almost didn’t hear him. “I got your word I don’t go down for trying to sell to a jackbooted thug?”

I snorted. “As long as all of you cooperate. I came alone. Sunny’s boys can check me for wires inside. Now make the call.”

“Whatcha coming ’round here for anyway, Kash?” he asked as he lifted the phone to his ear and looked around the street.

“Don’t say my name out here. Just get me in to see him.”

Nodding, he waited until someone answered. “No stars, he wants to see the Sun. That’s what I said, but he said the Sun will make an exception”—he lowered his voice—“and I really think the Sun should, ya feel? Yeah. Yeah.”

“Tell them,” I prompted him, and Shawn looked at me like I was insane. “Tell them, but don’t say my name.”

“It’s K-money. Understood? Came alone, prepared to leave without words to others, but he wants to see the Sun.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house, and we began walking toward it. “Yeah, we comin’.”

As soon as we hit the steps to the house, I unzipped my hoodie and stopped when we reached the door. It opened, Shawn and I stepped in, and as soon as the door shut behind us, I raised my hands in the air and instantly had three of Sunny’s men around me.