illicit funds • j cody

FIVE

💸 PACK YOUR BAGS 💸

Pope stares me down the minute I step into the house.

"Where were you?" he asks.

I return his harsh gaze, "A party."

"Who's party?"

"A girl's."

"Where?"

"Bel Air."

He thinks about my responses for a minute before formulating his next question, "What girl in Bel Air would invite you to a party?"

I know Smurf isn't here, but I do one last look around just in case. "Hunter Thorpe."

His eyes narrow in confusion, "Hunter Thorpe? Who the hell is Hunter Thorpe?"

"Will Thorpe's daughter," I answer quietly.

For an instant he looks scared, "Will Thorpe as in the money launderer Will Thorpe? That British psychopath who worked with Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel?"

"That would be him."

"So I'm going to assume you aren't just hanging out with his daughter because you want to?"

I shrug, "Hunter's nice, smart, a good boxer, I like her."

"I don't think you realize that Will Thorpe is a whole new breed that you haven't dealt with."

I raise my eyebrows, "Oh really?"

"When he was in Colombia, he found out someone in his office was ratting, but he didn't know who so he lined up all ten people who worked in that office, women included, and shot them all in the head. Another time, he was out golfing with a rival and they spoke ill of his dead wife, so he took out a golf club and beat them to death. You'd better not step out of line with his daughter or he will kill you, and if he doesn't, you'll wish you were dead."

"I think I'll be fine."

"Just be careful," he cautions.

◇◇◇

"You're going to fight next week," my dad insists without even looking away from the computer screen in his study.

"I couldn't even jump into the pool!" I argue.

"Listen," he sighs, "you're going to be on so many painkillers that you won't feel a damn thing, and I'll let you finish the fight as early as you want."

"And how will my reflexes be if I'm all juiced up?"

He groans and finally spins in this chair to face me. He pulls his glasses off and stares me down with his ice cold blue eyes, "I'm having my personal pharmacist whip up something extra special for you. You're going to that fight and winning whether you want to or not."

I cross my arms, "I don't have to fight, I'm legally an adult, I can do whatever I want."

He springs out of the chair and grabs me by the jaw, forcing me to look him in the eyes, "If you're legally a fucking adult then you can go to college, get a real fucking job, pay for a place to sleep at night, and pay for your own fucking gym. Right now I own your life, which means you do as I say."

I swallow hard as I scramble to think of a retort, "Mom wouldn't make me fight."

That clearly crossed a line. His jaw clenches and his grip on my tightens; his fingers dig into my cheeks. "She probably wouldn't, but your mother isn't here now, so I make the decisions."

I stare daggers at him, "And whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

His response stings but I don't stop, "Last I checked, I wasn't the one who dragged her down to Colombia where they couldn't fix a basic hemorrhage. She would be alive if you hadn't been a greedy piece of shit and decided to sacrifice your fucking family for a few  extra bucks."

"A few extra bucks?" He scoffs, "Without a few extra bucks I would've had you adopted, and you'd be living on the streets selling yourself because you can't read."

"And how is that any different from what I'm doing now? You treat me like a fucking racehorse. Making me win in the last fucking round so you and your friends can get a more of a return on your bets."

"You live a damn good life Hunter, a life that I gave you," he releases my face and pushes me away. "Don't fucking try to convince me otherwise."

I back out of his study, his harsh gaze still fixed on me, "I'll fight next week, but you're going to regret making me."

I run to my room and pick up my phone before shooting off a quick text.

Get your passport and get your ass up to LA. We're going to Colombia.

◇◇◇

Hey y'all short chapter but I want to dedicate the whole next chapter to their Colombian adventure.