I finally let my eyes drop to her as she makes her way to my side, stopping next to me, eyes colliding with mine. Her hair is pulled tight in a fancy bun with her lips painted blood red. The long sleeve, black dress she wears has a plunging neckline and slit up the side so high it almost reaches her panty line. Around her waist is a glittering silver belt, and her ears are adorned with silver hoops. Her most startling accessory though is the small, tight smile on her face. Scarlet’s eyes move from mine and wander around the room, predatorily, and I glimpse the character she’s been forced to play.
“Ready?” I ask, barely above a whisper. The only sign she gives me is when she starts moving through the room, her head held high, until she reaches the long wooden table at the back. Acting my part, I pull out the chair for her to sit. Everyone in the room has taken their cue from her, following to the table and sitting. It’s fucking weird. I’ve seen and I’ve heard the stories, but witnessing it firsthand is unbelievable.
With everyone seated, I force myself to stand back, behind her chair, in a show of support. Scanning the room, I take in every face and run through all the information I know of them in my head. Most present are in the drug industry while a small majority deal in illegal gun and ammunition distribution. All in all, bringing eleven people to the table. My fingers twitch behind my back. All of these men are on a list hanging in our office, wanted for several crimes and deaths and here they all are in one room, but I can’t touch them.
The air in the room grows thick with tension while they wait for her to speak. Scarlet keeps her hands down by her sides and eyes on the table in front of her. My body coils, waiting in anticipation to see her handle this. All eyes in the room bounce from her to each other, before a man closest to her clears his throat. “Condolences for your loss, Ms. Reyes,” he says. I instantly recognize him as Brady Lochlan, a major gun trader up the East Coast. Her shoulders grow stiff, and I feel my own body stand up straighter in response.
“Who told?” Scarlet’s voice rings out, and I swear it gets quieter.
Brady’s eyes dance over the table. “Are you insinuating it wasn’t from your own camp?”
Scarlet’s head turns in his direction. The man’s face visibly pales. “I’ve already cleaned house,” her arm swings in my direction, “meet my new detail. There is just one thing though that I can’t stop thinking about…” Her voice trails off and she turns back to the rest of the room.
A few seats down, Matt ‘The Rat’ Mantrana, shifts in his seat. His beady eyes dart around everyone. His waxy face looks strung out, and I can finally see for myself why they call him ‘The Rat,’ other than the fact that he would sell out anyone who isn’t in his best interest to a higher up or the feds. One second I’m looking at the man, and the next, a shot rings out. The small puckered hole in his forehead blooms red, a surprised look forever frozen on his face.
My body steps toward Scarlet involuntarily, right as one of the wives screams. My eyes sweep over to Scarlet only to see she’s the one laying the silver pistol on the table, barrel facing the crowd. My conscience and my duty rage against each other in my chest. The world won’t miss a man such as Mantrana, yet at the same time, a murder was committed in front of me. I feel twitchy.
“Was that necessary?” A man with a southern drawl finally speaks. He’s holding a pocket square and rubbing red specks of blood from his neck. My head rises. I recognize him. Gerald Lopez. Owner and operator of the second largest narcotics infiltrator near the southern border.
Scarlet’s head tilts, as if she’s contemplating. “Gerry,” she clicks her tongue, “I do find it necessary to remove alliances when they cross me. Rat knew my father’s plan for the exchange at the hotel that day. He’d previously brought that group of boys in against my wishes before, even after I made it clear they weren’t to be trusted. And now my father is dead.”
Gerry starts to look uncomfortable, his eyes hardening, as if expecting another bullet in his direction. “I made sure Rat got the message just as you asked.”
“No,” she shakes her head, “I told you to take care of him, Gerry. The DEA is up our asses because you continued to let Rat bring in teenagers who care more about getting their next fix than loyalty to the job. When the cop kid died, I told you to end Rat then.” Cop kid. I know she means Blake and my eyes stay focused on Gerry.
“He was useful,” Gerry argues, a deep red creeping up his collar.
“He was willing to sell you out to me, Gerry,” Scarlet announces, “Rat would have flipped anyone in this room, and you chose to ignore my warning. That group of boys continued their business and tried to use my hotel as a way to settle their own scores during my drop.”
“Are you going to kill me too?” he asks, eyes bulging, while they glance at everyone else in the room, who are dutifully keeping their faces averted, letting Scarlet handle her own.
Scarlet sits back in her seat, her arms resting on the table, her fingers darting out to spin the pistol around. I swear no one breathes. “Not right now,” she finally answers. My eyes narrow. There is a beat of silence while everyone comes to grips with the ominous feeling in the air. Clearly their queen is pissed, and one wrong move could mean a bullet in their head. I have to hand it to Brady when he’s the only one who dares to speak after several minutes.
“Now that Rat’s taken care of, can we continue with our meeting?”
Scarlet sits back and waves her hand for him to continue. For the next two hours, they go around the table detailing every crime they committed this week, a job completed, and their plans for the next month. I start to realize the reason for being here today, not only to watch Scarlet but taking intel. I commit each face, name, and affiliation to memory.
For so long, we’ve had blank spots on our grids, trying to find out who we’re missing. Scarlet is helping to fill those in. I hate it, even when I know it’s necessary. Every fiber in my being screams she can’t be trusted, even while she’s openly giving us information. Information that could, by her standards, earn her an execution like Rat’s.
Through it all, I play my part, standing stoically behind her, while keeping my eyes on everyone, and check to be sure they haven’t snuck weapons in the room as well. They treat her with respect, almost catering to her in a way, making sure her drink is full and updating her on information, and realize how much her empire has grown. When she tumbles down, it isn’t going to be a small splash but a tidal wave. All of these fuckers doting on her are going under, and they have no idea.
At the end of the meeting, Scarlet takes the pistol, and I watch as it disappears under her dress. My brow rises. She stands first and everyone follows suit. Now that business is over, a few make their way to the makeshift bar set up in the back, while a few others are brave enough to come forward and offer her a handshake and their condolences. Scarlet’s back is stiff, and I can tell she hates the attention about her father. Her face stays passive, with that fake small smile on her red lips. After the last person greets her, she turns and nods once at me that she’s ready to leave. I follow her through the room to the steel door she entered through earlier. It opens to a stairwell and out of the building. I see her car is still where I parked it earlier. I open the backdoor for her, still playing my part, before climbing in the driver’s side. Once the engine fires up and we’re moving, the phone rings.