Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 57

Samuel was in the middle of a meeting with the head of the Clark family when his phone rang. Like the Devreauxs, the Clarks held sway over certain parts of the city’s underworld.

While Samuel leaned more into weapons, vehicles, and food, the Clark family dealt solely in the drug trade. Their business did overlap in a couple ways, which was why they met up three times a year to discuss the details and make any modifications to their agreement.

“You haven’t kept up your end of our deal,” Richard Clark snapped. The man was older than Samuel by two decades but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. Tall, lean and fit, even Richard’s hair was still as brown as when he’d been born sixty eight years ago. His skin was beginning to show some age but only if you paid attention and knew what to look for. Piercing blue eyes that missed little were fixed on Samuel as they dined in a private room at an upscale restaurant; it was Samuel’s turn to host and this was the best place in town, Michelin star rated and owned by him. Where else would he want to hold a private meeting but in his own backyard?

“You seem to be forgetting that I can only do that when your people do what they’re suppose to,” Samuel countered, keeping his tone light as he glanced at his phone. Why was Mr Morris calling? Was the earlier call from Vivian a sign that something was in the works? Without her phone he couldn’t trace her location on a whim and that bothered him.

If anything happened to her…

“Apologies, Richard, but I need to take this call.”

“Of course you do.”

“I’ll get another bottle of red to make up for it,” he told the old man with a smile. “Something with a good vintage.” Not waiting for a response, Samuel stood and left the room before accepting the call. “Yes?”

“We have a situation,” was the first thing out of Gilbert’s mouth. “Shots fired, I got hit, we’re trying to get home but have a tail.”

Samuel’s heart felt like it was in a vice and his temper flared. Who dared go after his daughter?! “Vivian?” If she wasn’t okay he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was shaking when it came through the phone but it helped loosen the vice in his chest. She was fine. She was alive. That was good.

“Where are you?” It took everything in him to stay calm as his hand clenched the phone in a death grip.

“Heading north, almost to Queens and Fitzgerald,” Gilbert replied.

“What’s the plan?”

“Normally I’d lose them…”

Normally? What was going on that made him unable lose a simple tail? “…and you can’t this time because…?”

“I’m driving?” Vivian explained in a small voice, as though afraid of him knowing she was behind the wheel. “I can turn right on a red, right?” Before he could answer the question he heard the squeal of tires and honking horns for two seconds before silence returned.

“We got another,” Gilbert told Samuel, meaning a second tail was spotted. Shit.

“Why are they even after us?!” Vivian shouted, clearly trying her best to stay calm while beginning to unravel.

“Mr Morris?” Samuel pressed, his phone held against his ear so hard it might as well be fused with his body.

“Meet us at the Bolivar,” Gilbert said after a few seconds. The Bolivar was close by; good. It wouldn’t take long for Samuel to get there.

“Done. Vivian?” He waited, needing to hear her voice one last time before ending the call.

“Y-yes?”

“Do whatever Mr Morris tells you. He’ll keep you safe.” Samuel hung up before he could say more, trusting the man to keep his daughter from harm.

Gilbert Morris was ex-military, had done tours to so many countries throughout the middle-east he couldn’t count them all using his fingers and toes. He was trained for special Ops, though what exactly that meant even Samuel wasn’t sure; what he did know was that Mr Morris was a force of nature when it came to a fight. Fist, knife, firearm, lead pipe… it didn’t matter the weapon or lack there of.

If he’d been ambitious, Mr Morris could easily take control of Samuel’s entire enterprise without leaving a single person alive to retaliate, but that wasn’t what he’d wanted in life. The man was a soldier and thrived taking orders; he was more than happy to play bodyguard or security, assassin or boogeyman. The loyalty he held for Samuel was due to the latter giving him purpose once he’d been discharged from the military.

Samuel had found him drunk, getting into bar fights most nights and wasting away without any purpose. So he’d given Mr Morris a job, a purpose that kept him sober and out of bar room brawls.

Their history wasn’t anything special, it all adding up to getting lucky and being at the right place at the right time.

Samuel punched in a number and hit the call button as he opened the private room’s door and half stepped into the room. “Sorry, Richard, but something just came up. Order what you like, stay as long as you want, but I need to take care of this.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Samuel Devreaux,” the old man retorted, pointing his fork in the direction of the door. “I’m still not happy with this.”

“I’ll endeavour to make things right,” he nodded before stepping out again, the call connecting.

“What’s up, Dad?” Sebastian’s voice came through the phone sounding calm.

Samuel filled his eldest son in on what was going on, instructing him to gather a few of their best men to meet at the parking garage. Yes, Mr Morris had said the Bolivar but there was nowhere for them to safely leave the vehicle in a chase except for the parking garage half a block from the specified location.

By the time Samuel stepped onto the street his car was waiting, the driver one of the men Sebastian had called to action. Given the location of his father and where they were meeting, his son only called on people already in the vicinity. If they took too long getting there it would mean the difference between life and death; and death wasn’t an option when he’d only just found Vivian. Death was only acceptable for those who dared go after his little girl. Death was probably too good for them but there wasn’t much anyone could do about that.

The moment Samuel closed the door after entering the vehicle the driver hit the gas. It would take five minutes to reach their destination — five torturous minutes — but they couldn’t attract any additional attention than Vivian’s driving had most likely garnered. The last thing needed was for the police to show up before he could deal with the situation.