The Ties That Bind 1 Read online

  Billy stepped into the bar, and the chorus of laughter and conversation screeched to a halt. Heads swiveled to check out the newcomer as Annie Lennox wailed her frustration to a skeptical lover.

  My friends, know what’s in store

  I won’t be here anymore

  I’ve packed my bags,

  I’ve cleaned the floor

  With an aloof expression and sweaty palms, Billy ventured further in. Meeting the sea of unsmiling faces, she forced herself to remain calm. The good news was that like the brothel, the patrons inside of Inferno were also diverse. It was filled with Hispanics, blacks, and whites, mingling together. The bad news: they were all male and none of them looked friendly as they blatantly leered at her. Billy was glad she carried her own protection and the backup Ransom had given her.

  Would I lie to you?

  Would I lie to you, honey?

  Now would I say something that wasn’t true?

  I’m asking you sugar

  Would I lie to you?

  The inside of Inferno was dim except for the well-lit bar area, the walls and floor covered in dark wood paneling. Like most bars, there were pool tables and dartboards, which were all occupied. Posters of Pam Grier, Charles Bronson, Richard Roundtree, and Clint Eastwood lined the walls. Women in leather booty shorts and black bustiers flitted about, serving customers. Abruptly, the music was cut off.

  “You lost, honey?”

  The smoky voice echoed in the silence. It belonged to a tall, voluptuous black woman with a large afro standing behind the bar in the center of the room. Her honeyed complexion was only a shade darker than her hair. The black jumpsuit she wore looked like it was poured over her body. Her almond-shaped brown eyes were hawk-sharp, missing nothing, and her scarlet mouth, plump and bow-shaped. She was the kind of woman men would kill for. Or got killed trying to impress.

  “No.” Billy’s answer emerged in a squeak that lifted the woman’s eyebrows practically to her hairline. Fuck. That was not cool. Mustering up some more courage, she tried again. “I-I-I’m looking for Marcus Glover. Is he around?”

  The woman froze but quickly recovered. Her tone and stance shifted to defensive as she crossed her arms and rolled her neck aggressively. “He’s busy. Leave a message. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

  “No, thank you. I’d prefer to give it to him myself.” Billy glanced around and spotted a two-seater booth to her right, close to the door. It was perfect if a quick getaway was needed. “I’ll just wait over there until he becomes available.”

  “No you won’t!” The woman was crackling with animosity. “Now, I told you the man is busy! He doesn’t have time to deal with you! Get to steppin’, little girl.”

  “And I said I’m not leaving until I see him myself!” Billy responded in kind. “I didn’t come all this way only to be turned away without a meeting. Why don’t we let him decide if he’s interested in seeing me?”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?!” The woman rounded the bar with a wooden baseball bat in hand. She waved it threateningly at Billy as she approached. “I can’t stand a hard-headed ho! I’m gonna bust your head wide open, girly! You must be out your damned—”

  Billy’s shot splintered the baseball bat, sending shards of wood flying and people scrambling out of the way. She raised the gun to the surprised woman’s face. “That was a warning, bitch. My next shot will bust your head wide open! I tried to be nice, but clearly, you only understand crazy. Lucky for you, I speak that shit fluently. Now, where is Marcus?”

  “Never tolerate disrespect, Billy! At the first sign of it, let loose on a motherfucker! Trust me; they won’t make that mistake with you again, baby.”

  Those were the words Melody spoke solemnly from her hospital bed when Billy brought the requested small velvet box from underneath her mother’s bed. Inside of it was the pearl-handled derringer Billy now held. According to her mother, it was Porsha who gave her the gun when she discovered Melody was divorced and her daughter and granddaughter were living on their own. It was the same one she’d taught her daughter to shoot with weekly for the past two years…until cancer.

  No one in the bar attempted to interfere in their standoff. Ransom’s earlier words made perfect sense to Billy now. If one of them died, no one was going to give a shit and demand justice. It would probably be considered a normal occurrence in Chatham.

  A man’s booming laugh from the back corner of the bar broke the tension. In a velvety smooth voice he said, “I see you got your mama’s temper and her shooting skills, Willamina.”

  “Then you know I mean what I say…Marcus.” For a brief second, Billy’s eyes flashed to the corner as a figure rose from a booth where he’d been sitting with his back to her. Slowly, he turned and made his way to her. She wanted to look but didn’t dare take her eyes off her adversary again.

  The woman sucked her teeth at Billy. “I know you’re not gonna let her come up in here like this! You betta check her ass, Rage!”

  “Like she checked yours? Let it go, Lorelai,” Marcus demanded with finality, joining them. He gave the woman a hard swat on the ass, and she bared her teeth at him in return. In a muted voice, he added, “And show a little respect while you’re at it. That’s my daughter you’re talking to, dammit.”

  This was where Billy had inherited her height, nose, and mouth. Marcus was slightly shorter than Ransom with a lean, wiry build and a tawny complexion. Tattoos covered his arms and neck. His head was bald but a full, lengthy beard covered the bottom half of his face. It was hard for Billy to see her uber sophisticated, fashionista mother falling for this good-looking but rough-around-the-edges bad boy. Until he smiled warmly at her and those dark brown eyes lit up.

  “Your what?!” Lorelai yelped. She flung what was left of the bat to the floor and stormed off, slamming through the double doors at the back of the bar.

  Billy lowered the gun, pointing it at the debris. “Sorry about that. I did try to be polite.”

  Marcus waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Lorelai is good people, but she’s got a strong personality. Goes down smooth for some, and for others, she’s an acquired taste and hard to swallow. Kinda like moonshine. Why don’t you have a seat and we can talk?”

  He snapped his fingers and immediately, an attractive blonde server was at his beck and call. “What’ll you have, Billy?”

  “Uh…” She should probably stop staring but it was hard not to be fascinated by him. This was her father. Melody had once referred to Marcus as the love of her life. “Just an ice water for now, please.”

  “Get her an ice water and man the bar until Lorelai comes back,” Marcus instructed the woman before addressing the still curious bar. “Sorry about the disturbance, y’all! Drinks are on the house!”

  Everyone cheered as he escorted Billy to the booth for their long-overdue reunion.

  “I loved your mother the moment I saw her.” Marcus smiled fondly as he reminisced. “She came to my basketball game with some of her girlfriends and damn near cost me the game! I couldn’t stop looking at her. Melody had it goin’ on! I mean, babygirl was bad to the bone! Baby soft skin, dangerous curves, and those wide, pretty eyes. You look a lot like her.” He tapped his nose playfully. “But you got the Glover nose. Don’t worry; you damn sure wear it better than anyone in my family! You also got them shooting skills from me.”

  “Uh-uh. Sell that somewhere else. Mom taught me how to shoot,” Billy adamantly stated.

  Marcus laughed. “Who do you think taught her? My older brother taught me, and I passed that skill set on to your mother. Melody Lashay took to it like a duck to water! Looked damn good doing it, too. She made Foxy Brown look like a punk!”

  Finally, they were getting somewhere. They’d been talking for over an hour about inconsequential stuff to Billy. It was a nerve-wracking start, but they’d gradually opened up to one another. He asked her about school and her plans for the future, allowing Billy to ramble on. She was an honor student who’d attend Famon University in No
rthern California in the fall. She would major in theater and drama. In her spare time, she loved reading and attending plays and musicals. No, she’d never gotten a speeding ticket, and she hated salads. His eyes never left her face as he listened with rapt attention, only occasionally interjecting with questions.

  Marcus wanted to know everything about Billy. He’d waited a lifetime for this moment. Over the years, he’d wanted to pick up the phone just to hear his daughter’s voice. But he couldn’t. He and Melody both felt that his being out of the picture was for the best. When she called him and calmly informed him that she was dying, Marcus had wept like there was no tomorrow. He hadn’t cried that hard since he had to say goodbye to Billy eighteen years ago. Leaving his baby had killed a part of his spirit. It transformed him into a restless nomad, leading Marcus to his existing lot in life. Now, she was here on his turf. It made him leery about the consequences this visit might bring later. However, presently, he was too elated to even care. Marcus wanted to make a big fuss about her being underage and carrying a firearm illegally, but he was just relieved to see that she was traveling with protection.

  He also knew that she wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t found out he’d tried to pay his respects at Melody’s funeral. At the time, Marcus wasn’t thinking about anything but getting to see them. His family. The old bastard had threatened him, and if he didn’t think that Stanton would follow through on it, he would have kicked the geezer’s ass until he dropped dead. But Marcus was now having the last laugh.

  Maybe subconsciously, he’d instigated this meeting?

  Knowing Neville like he did, Marcus was sure that he’d probably driven Billy crazy enough to defy him. Stanton never missed a chance to gloat or hurl insults, and he’d played right into Marcus’s hands.

  “Why did the two of you split up? Was it because of me?” There was no judgment inflected in her tone, and it angered Marcus. She didn’t even know him well enough to miss, hate, or wonder about him.

  “Look, Billy, there’s no easy way to say this without the shit sounding crazy as hell. You were a planned baby,” Marcus stated bluntly, making Billy’s eyes pop wide open with the news of that bombshell.

  “I loved your mother and she loved me, but as I’m sure you know, Melody loved her freedom more. My parents wanted me to go to college and play professional ball. I didn’t want to. My older brother that I mentioned, your uncle William, was an Army Ranger who was killed in the line of fire. I looked up to him. He was everything to me and following in his footsteps was what I wanted to do most with my life. Except, my parents forbade it. They couldn’t stand the thought of losing another son and insisted I stick with sports.

  It was Melody’s idea to make a baby and I agreed. I think I was feeling spiteful toward my parents, who already didn’t approve of your mother. They were devastated and insisted, as I knew they would, that I do right by my pregnant girlfriend. I let Melody keep all the monetary gifts we received, which was quite a bit. The rich folks your family knows were extremely generous. Then you were born; we got divorced, and I enlisted. So, unlike most teenage pregnancies, you weren’t an accident, kid.”

  “And I’m named after your brother,” Billy mused. “Wow; Mom always said it was a family name, but I didn’t believe her.”

  “It was my stipulation. Whether you were a boy or a girl your name was going to have Will in it.”

  “You couldn’t have just stopped at Willa? Willamina was a mouthful to defend all through elementary school, you know.”

  “You can blame your bougie-ass mama for that!” They shared a laugh before Marcus turned sober. “Real talk? I wanted to be in your life, Billy, but Melody was pretty adamant that I hold up my end of the deal. Not to mention the fact that my job in the military led me to encounter some pretty nasty individuals. Let’s just say that at the end of the day, I was relieved that they didn’t know you or she existed.”

  “But I’m here now, and you’re not in the military,” Billy was quick to point out.

  “No…I’m not,” Marcus agreed slowly and left it at that. He watched her face fall when he didn’t elaborate further then straighten her shoulders. She was quick to pick herself up and not dwell on it, just like Melody LaShay wouldn’t have. A regular chip off the old block.

  Billy was disappointed by his response but forged on with determination. “I’ll be in town for a couple of days. My car is getting fixed down the street. I’d like to get to know you a little bit better.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea…”

  With a sharp pang in her aching heart, Billy understood that he wasn’t looking for anything more than a chance to wrap up some loose ends. Mortified, she dug in her bag and extracted out her wallet. “Forget I said anything. What do I owe you for the water?”

  Marcus covered her hand with his as she pulled cash out. “Now, hold up a sec, Billy! Put your money away and stop being so defensive.”

  He ran his fingers through his beard, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. There was no way he could let her leave feeling ill toward him. But there was also no way she could stay, however…She was his daughter. The very best parts of him and Melody Lashay. In the short time he’d spent in her company, Marcus was happy to confirm that Billy was everything he’d hoped and prayed she would become.

  “Yeah, I’d like that too, but you gotta understand some things around here. This is a biker town and considered neutral territory for the three gangs surrounding it. The Immortals have claimed this town but occasionally do business with the Death Lords and Aztecs.”

  Marcus gestured around the bar. “Take a look around you. This bar, Club Flex, and that ho shack across the street are the richest businesses in this bitch! No trouble comes to town that doesn’t get handled, but neither does progression. The fewer civilians around, the better. You feel me?”

  “And that’s what the people like? How come the government doesn’t try to get involved?” Billy was indignant on behalf of the oppressed citizens of Chatham.

  “Girl, please! The motorcycle gangs have managed to intimidate or pay off all forms of law enforcement from Highway Patrol to the National Guard. They run this shit, so I need you to keep out of the way for your own safety, Billy. Can you do that? Because I’ve got a good thing going here. I can’t afford to be on anyone’s bad side. If you can’t do that, then I need you to get the fuck outta town right now. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if I have to.”

  Billy could see he wasn’t playing games. He was dead serious about cutting her off. “I can do that. But only if you explain to me how you went from the military to the middle of nowhere.”

  Marcus squeezed her hand with relief. “I look forward to spending time with you, and you have my word. Just please remember what I said, Billy.”

  “Like hell you’ll be spending time with her.”

  Her skin broke out in goosebumps at the sinister interjection. Billy wasn’t even sure it was human. She looked up to find Ransom standing next to their booth, his face stippled with rage as he glared down at her and Marcus’s joined hands.

  Billy rose from the table and her father followed suit. She grabbed her purse, self-conscious of once again being the subject of all eyes in the bar. “Thank you for the water. I look forward to continuing this discussion at a later time.”

  Marcus ignored her. He was too busy sizing up the young man in front of him. They’d met ten years ago when Ransom was just twelve and Marcus was new in town. Back then, he was just a bartender when Slade Lawson and some of the Immortals had strolled into the bar with the boys. Pulling out a chair, he ordered three whiskeys neat, and the boys took seats on either side of him. The boys were identical, down to their clothing, and he couldn’t distinguish between them. After that initial meeting, Marcus would always remember how he learned how to do so.

  Covertly, Marcus watched his boss Jonah line up glasses and pour the alcohol in front of them without blinking. One of the boys brazenly grabbed a glass, keeping his eyes on his father whi
le he drank its contents. His brother, the more reserved of the two, did not reach for a glass. Marcus was puzzled by the acquiescence in his eyes as he watched his twin.

  With great flourish, the boy slammed the empty glass back on the counter. Slade stared impassively as his son’s triumphant expression turned queasy, the effects of the liquor kicking in. His skin flushed and tears filled his eyes. Marcus knew he was going to be sick. He reached for the trash can under the bar to bring it to him, but Jonah stopped him.

  “Stay out of it, Marcus,” his boss warned him quietly. “That’s club business right there. It don’t involve you, greenhorn.”

  Suddenly, the boy hurled all over the floor. Ashamed, he mumbled an apology to his father. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I think I’m gonna be -”

  Slade’s fist struck him upside his head, knocking him to the floor, where he lay in his waste. He squatted down over his son. “How are you supposed to lead if you jump into situations unaware of what the results will be, boy? You just assumed. A decision like that will get you and your men killed! Did I say any of those drinks were for you?”

  “No, sir,” the kid whined. “Again, I’m sorry—”

  He hollered when Slade viciously cuffed him again. “A real man will always hold his head up and look you in the eye when apologizing. Remember that.”

  Without another word, Slade rose and resumed his position at the bar, leaving his son cowering on the floor. His twin faced Marcus. He would never forget the look in the kid’s eyes. If he could have gotten away with killing Slade, he would have done it a long time ago. His voice betrayed none of that, though. It was painstakingly polite and deep. “Sir, could I trouble you for a mop, bucket, and a couple of towels?”

  Marcus retrieved the requested items and the kid thanked him. Everyone in the bar resumed their business. The boy helped his brother to his feet, removed his clean shirt off his back, and gave it to him. He waited until his humiliated twin ran to the bathroom to clean up his brother’s mess. Slade said nothing more to them, and they both went outside to sit on the sidewalk. He continued to drink and converse with his men while his sons sat outside talking. In the years to come, Marcus came to expect this never-ending vicious cycle. Marcus could only be thankful that his child was safe and sound, miles away from these fucking psychos.