Claimed Darker by Em Brown

Chapter 31

DARREN

Past

“I’m going down to the police station,” I lie to Bridget three nights later. “Sergeant Trawley wants to go over some stuff.”

She looks up from the table where she’s working on her laptop, a clunky piece of junk that looks like it’s only good as an oversized, unnecessarily heavy paperweight. But she won’t let me get her a new one. I don’t even have to ask. I have a laptop I rarely use, and she won’t even borrow mine. I told her she could use whatever she wanted around my place since she’s temporarily living with me. The morning after I returned from the hospital, she had offered to stay over in case I needed help with anything.

“But if you want your space, I understand,” she had said as we’d lain in bed. “I’m not trying to move in. Just thought you could use an extra pair of hands for a few days.”

Of course I was going to want her to stay. Not because I needed help, though.

“Sure,” I replied, “but you know that it’s my place, my rules.”

I wondered if she’d change her mind then, but she’d replied, “Okay.”

The following day, I had her spend the entire day in my place naked. It seemed to keep her mind off what happened.

I notice she’s jumpy. She perks up at every sound behind her. She’s restless and takes a while to fall asleep. Student health recommended she try melatonin, but that hasn’t made a difference, and she doesn’t want to try prescription drugs yet. The only thing that seems to help is sex. Probably the combination of tiring her out and flooding her with feel-good hormones.

“At this hour?” she asks.

“He’s working late tonight,” I reply.

“Did you take your antibiotics?”

“I’ll take them now.”

I go into the kitchen and down the pills.

“Does Trawley have a new lead?” she asks.

“It’s looking more and more like a random shooting,” I say as I grab my jacket.

“How can he be sure? It’s just…way too random. Why would someone want to randomly shoot people in the street?”

“That’s the definition of random. There’s no rhyme or reason. Probably some stupid fuck who got a gun for the first time and wanted some target practice.”

She furrows her brow. “I guess there are senseless people in the world.”

“Too many.”

“Well, either way, I hope the police catch the guy. I’d feel so much better.”

When we catch the gunman, I wonder if there’s a way to grant Bridget that wish. I want her to feel better. It’s only a matter of time before we smoke out the shooter…because we have the guy behind it all.

“Me, too,” I say. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

“I could come with you.”

I swallow my immediate response and say instead, “You stay here and get your work done.”

“I’m just staring at my computer screen. I can’t seem to get started on this fundraising letter. A change of scenery might be nice.”

If she knew the scenery I’m headed to, she would not think it nice.

“Trawley didn’t say he needed anyone but me.”

“So I’ll hang out in the lobby or the car.”

“Marshall’s driving me.”

She narrows her eyes. “Why don’t you want me to come?”

“Because I don’t want you to have to relive a moment of what happened.”

“I’ll be fine.”

I feel my exasperation rising. I try a different tactic. “Besides, I have homework for you. I want you to pick between a tawse, a paddle, and a riding crop for your next spanking. Then pick your furniture: cage, stocks or pommel. Let me know what you’ve chosen when I get back.”

“What were the choices again?”

I repeat the options, which she writes down with pen and paper.

“What’s a tawse?” she asks.

“Look it up.”

I leave before she gets wise to my distraction. Marshall is waiting for me downstairs. He drives over to an old warehouse by Pier 73. Marshall knocks on the door, which is then opened by Travis, a thug JD has worked with in the past. I walk inside. The place is empty and mostly dark except for a single lamp.

Beneath it sits Manny, tied to a chair, his face already a bloody pulp.

On the drive over, I was seething. Seeing him now, I feel a touch sorry for the guy. But it was his own damn fault. There are consequences to being stupid.

“Sorry I started without you,” JD says, leaning on one crutch.

I notice blood on his brass knuckles. Next to Travis stands his partner-in-crime, “Big Bear.”

“Travis and Bear had to drag his ass up from Mexico,” JD tells me. He turns to Manny. “You thought you could hide out there? You thought you were smarter than us?”

Manny sees me with his good eye—the other one having swelled shut. “D-Darren, I didn’t mean for you to get hit. I was—I just wanted t-to scare JD.”

“Bullshit!” JD shouts. “You wanted me dead.”

“N-No. It—”

“You know how I know? Because Tran gave you up.”

This is news to Manny. He looks more frightened than before.

“That’s right,” JD drawls. “You think we graduated from UCLA a bunch of dumbasses? We knew if you hired the hit who you were likely to turn to. A bunch of bottom-feeding Park Street Boyz.”

“Where’s Tran now?” I ask.

After Marshall had showed me the security camera picking up Manny walking out of the club, and then back in, completely unfazed by the sound of gunfire outside, it was obvious he knew what was going down. I had called JD, who came over immediately to see the recording for himself. JD was pissed as hell and ready to kick shit in if he hadn’t been on crutches. After calming him down, we talked through Manny’s possible motives and who he would have hired for the hit. It was safest to go outside the triad, otherwise he risked word reaching me or JD.

The easiest place to look would be with his new people, the PSB.

JD had offered to track down Tim Tran, the one Manny was working closest with. I explained I had Bridget over at my place, so I was limited with how involved I could be.

“I got this,” JD had assured me.

After picking up Tran, JD said the guy confessed to being the driver in the shooting, and that Manny had offered twenty thousand dollars for the job. According to JD, Tran had been told by Manny that once JD was out of the way, he would be in line for a golden opportunity.

“I want to be there when you find Manny,” I’d told JD when he got the confirmation that Manny had initiated it all.

“We dumped him in the bay,” JD says in answer to my question about Tran.

Manny groans.

“You won’t be so lucky,” JD spits at him.

“Did you get the shooter?” I ask.

“We got the name. He’s PSB. We’ll catch up with him.”

Manny looks to me again. “I didn’t mean f-for you to get hurt, Darren. Honest.”

A mix of emotion renders me unable to respond right away. A small part of me pities Manny. He’s family. His mom and my mom are friends.

But I’m also furious. I was going to give the motherfucker another loan. Instead, I got shot.

“I just—I wanted…opportunity. It had n-nothing to do with you,” Manny continues.

I believe him. It makes sense. But he’s delusional if he thinks Hao Young will promote him just because JD’s out of the way. Or maybe Manny just finally snapped after years of being bullied by JD. He has no real issue with me, unless he resents that I haven’t done enough for him or that I’m closer to JD. Either way, he’s full of shit.

“Darren, p-please…”

“You think Darren’s going to save your sorry ass?” JD asks before driving a right hook into Manny, knocking two of his teeth out.

JD stumbles from the force of his own blow but regains his balance.

“You were always a sorry piece of ass,” JD continues. “You’re going to die a sorry piece of ass.”

Manny pleads with me. “Darren…”

I take in his bruised face, split lip, the blood dripping onto his designer suit. What if it had been Bridget’s blood that had been spilled on the pavement outside my club? What if I hadn’t pushed her out of the way in time?

Fury wins out.

“You could have killed Bridget,” I tell him.

“Fuck Bridget. You could have died,” JD says.

“I didn’t mean to,” Manny whines between coughs that spray more blood onto his clothes.

“Doesn’t matter,” I reply coldly. “Your stupid stunt could have gotten us all killed.”

I turn away and head out. Behind me, I hear JD going to town on Manny. By the time JD’s done, there might not be enough teeth left in Manny for the coroner to ID his body.

For a second, I consider turning back. But I can’t let the police have Manny. I can’t trust that Manny won’t go rogue. And I can’t trust Manny to be on the loose, either. What if he makes another shoddy attempt on JD again? What if Bridget and I aren’t so lucky next time?

I head outside with Marshall. The door closes behind us. A few seconds later, I hear several muffled gunshots.

We get in the car, and Marshall starts the engine.

“I need a minute,” I say.

“It had to be done, boss,” Marshall tells me.

“I know.”

It’s facing Bridget that’s going to be the hard part.