Page 12

Dominic

S itting in my office, I skim through the documents Bash dropped off this morning. Seems like my little princess isn’t as sweet and innocent as she pretends to be. Daddy’s money and Mommy’s reputation have bailed her out of situations that would’ve landed anyone else in jail. Intent to sell. Gun possession. Even shoplifting. Her mugshots tell a different story pure, youthful, the same innocent face she wears now. In some of these, she barely looks eighteen.

I flip through more pages, stopping at an old address. The place she lived before coming back here. So, was she telling the truth about helping her mother? Or is Cinderella running from the clock, trying to escape whatever trouble she’s landed in this time?

The Chophouse is big and spacious for a club. My office sits on the top floor, with cameras covering every inch of the property. I like knowing who’s around. I even installed cameras at Lori’s when she asked for protection some punk asses kept vandalizing the place. She’s not like the others who come to me looking for security. She just wants to keep her business and hands clean. Those cameras are coming in handy now.

I log into the restaurant’s feed. Gwen is leaning against the counter, lost in thought. What’s my girl dreaming about? Hopefully, me Not that it matters. She will never think of another man. I want it all every thought, every breath. I want her to think of me before she makes any decision. To feel me in every daydream, every nightmare.

The diner is nearly empty. She’s on break, propped on her elbows, her chin resting in her hands. The camera in the far corner gives me the perfect view of that round ass, hugged tight in her jeans. Her shirt rides up, revealing those delicious little dimples in her lower back. I lick my lips, remembering how she tasted last night. I need to make her feel safe with me. But she also needs to understand I’m in charge. And that smart mouth of hers? She better learn not to push me.

Her cocky little comments make me want to yank her up and smack that ass until it's black and blue, and her cunt is begging me to beat it black and blue. Fuck, my dick is getting hard in my slacks. I can't be sitting here thinking about this when, in ten minutes, Bash and Trey will be here. Trey has found some more information on the missing guns and where this piece of shit might be hiding.

I turn off my computer screen and go stand by the window. From here, I have a full view of the parking lot and the surrounding streets. Checking my Rolex right on time. Bash is always punctual. As am I. Something ingrained in us from a young age. If you can't be on time, how can anyone take you seriously when you can't even manage something that simple?

I watch as a Corvette pulls in, followed closely by a van. Bash steps out of his car, and Trey follows from the van with two men I don’t recognize. I walk over to my desk, pop open the drawer, and grab my Smith & Wesson .38 Special Edition revolver. There’s a black crown on the handle. Every gun that passes through our system has one somewhere, ever since we started removing the VIN numbers. My personal way of marking what's mine. I spin the cylinder a few times, let it lock into place, then shove it in my waistband and sit back down.

Seconds later, Bash opens the door, ushering the men inside. I stand, shake Trey's hand, then the others. “I appreciate you all making it to this meeting. Would you care for a glass of whiskey?” I ask, turning to the mini bar in my office. I grab a glass and pour the dark whiskey halfway up from the decanter. One of the men nods. "I’ll take a glass."

I smile, grab another glass, and pour the same amount. Walking to the front of my desk, I lean against it. Bash stands near the door, and Trey has positioned himself against the side wall of my office.

“My kind of man up for a good whiskey. But first, let’s talk business.” The two men exchange glances. Bash must have made it seem like they were about to move up in the world. That’s not actually the case. “Would you like to know what position I have for you?”

The man who spoke earlier nods, his greed evident in the way his eyes gleam. He’s ready to do whatever he thinks I’m about to offer him. I swirl my whiskey with my other hand, letting the amber liquid catch the dim light.

“Do you know that making whiskey takes patience? You have to wait for it to reach its final form. Patience is key really, in everything. Do you agree?” Neither of them speaks. They stand there, looking between each other, uncertain.

“I have been informed that you two have been patient and loyal. Would you say that’s true?” “The most loyal, sir. Whatever it is, we can do the job,” one of them assures me. I take another slow drink, nodding. Then, setting my glass down on my desk, I walk closer. “Good, good. Loyalty is a major characteristic for me. I need to know who I can trust and who I can't. But I need to know one thing.” I step closer, close enough to hand them my glass. Both men smile, thinking this is about to end well for them, that they’ll walk out of here with a pocket full of cash and a new job title. “Anything, sir,” the quieter one says.

I smirk. “Were you thinking of your loyalty to me when you transported Jimmy to a different location to hide from me? Or when he offered you a cut of my guns the ones that rat stole from me?” Their smiles vanish. Their eyes widen, terror sinking in as the weight of my words settles over them. “Sir, we would never”

I grab my whiskey glass and smash it against his face. The glass shatters, embedding deep into his skin, slicing through flesh. He crumples to the ground, blood seeping onto the floor. The other one turns to run, but before he can even reach the door, Bash has a knife to his throat. His buddy lies unconscious, motionless on the floor.

I tilt my head, watching the panic set in. “See, I have all the patience I need. While you were busy thinking, you’d get a cut of something that was never his to offer, I was already hunting down every rat who followed his lead. Jimmy’s life is in my hands. Eventually, he’ll run out of options and show up here, begging to be spared.

The man trembles, barely breathing as Bash presses the blade tighter against his throat. Blood runs down my hand, a shard of glass still lodged in my skin. Slowly, I turn my gaze to it, watching as I pull the sliver free from the meat of my palm.

" Now, I didn’t lie I said I was going to give you a new position.” Running my fingers over the blood dripping from my palm, I watch him squirm. “Please, whatever it is, I'll do it.” His voice trembles, desperate. I walk over to my desk, stepping on the broken glass scattered across the floor, feeling it crunch under my shoes. I grab my glass, lift it to my lips, and let the whiskey burn its way down my throat, igniting my insides. There’s something about a good whiskey it clears the mind, sharpens the senses.

“I’m going to be generous with you.” I set the glass down with a quiet clink. “Tell me where you took him, and you might walk out of here alive.”

He’s breathing hard now. I can see it in his eyes fight or flight has kicked in, and he’s ready to run. Most of these men don’t have the balls to fight. They act big and bad, but when it comes down to it, they’re just pussies playing a role. There’s always someone bigger, scarier. And that person is me. I’ve never feared another man. I never will.

“We” he stammers, his voice shaky. “We dropped him off at a house about two hours from here. He was looking for someone but never said who. Said he’d cut us in if, when the time was right, we helped him. He had a stash of guns there was planning to sell them. Wanted us to handle the sales for him. Said you’d never find out.” His body trembles as the confession spills from his lips.

I smile. “I want the address.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” He swallows hard. “It’s about half a mile down a road called Scarlet Road. A green house with white shutters. There’s a ‘For Sale’ sign in the yard. A truck was parked in the drive an older square-body, red. He said he was only staying for a few nights.”

I run a hand through my hair, considering. “See, now this is a step in the right direction. This is how loyalty works. You work for me, and I make sure you have what you need. I keep the kingdom running. It’s all a system, really. You’re at the bottom, and I have to make sure everyone at the bottom knows how the system works.”

He nods frantically. “Yes, sir.” I pull a lighter from my pocket. “Trey, lend Bash a helping hand here as he escorts our friend to the basement. I’ll be down in a minute.” “Wait, wait, wait!” he pleads, panic creeping into his voice. “I gave you the information! I told you everything I know! He never even paid us yet”

The man on the ground stirs, groaning as he regains consciousness from the beating he took earlier. Pussy. “Yeah,” I say, pulling the revolver from my waistband. “Sometimes, that’s still too late.” I pull the trigger. The gunshot echoes, and a bullet slams into his chest. He collapses, a dead weight on my floor, blood seeping into the carpet.

Bash and Trey haul the other guy out of my office, his screams laced with every profanity he can muster. It won’t do him any good. I have a message to send to the rat in hiding.

Unfortunately, now I’ve got a fucking body on my office floor, bleeding out on my carpet. And that annoys me. Why the fuck can’t people die without making a mess? I sigh, rubbing my temples. I’ll call the cleaning lady. She’ll have to detail the whole room once I get rid of the body. I’m going to take out anyone and everyone even thinking about helping this lazy fuck. I’ll get my money back and his life one way or another. Pulling out my cell.

Text to Bash.

ME: Send the crew.

BASH : On it. What do you want me to do with this one?

ME: Carve the word rat in his belly and send him that address.

BASH: I like your thinking. I’m on it.

I pocket my phone and walk to the door, stepping over the pile of fat sprawled on the floor. This fucker. If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him for getting my floor dirty. Heading down the stairs, I step into the dimming evening. The bar is empty it’s midweek, and we stock up until Fridays. Slipping out the back door, I make my way to my car. It’s almost time to get my girl.

I still haven’t decided what to do with the information I have. Maybe I’ll sit on it for now, see how far my princess takes this act. Sweet, delicate flower to everyone else, but I know better. She’s more than that like a poisonous leaf. Looks harmless until you start itching from the burn.

Walking out of Chophouse, I press the start button on my key fob. The engine rumbles to life, syncing to my phone as I dial in an order to the pizza place. Pizza isn’t usually my thing, but my girl wants a pizza night. And I need to do a little making up anyway.

I want her to want me as badly as I want her. To need me the way I need her. My dick has gotten hard twenty times today just thinking about that little body of hers. When I had her in my room, her body was a magnet to mine. There was no keeping us apart. An attraction that was meant to happen.

I never cared about fate before. Not sure if that’s even what this is. All I know is, the moment I laid eyes on her, she overtook every fucking thought in my head. So here I am, ready for a movie night and pizza. Never thought I’d have a date night. My life’s always been about running things never had the time, never gave a fuck. Well, until this morning, anyway. Bash has things under control at the Chophouse. The king can take a break. For one night once in a while.

Pulling up in front of the diner, I spot Gwen through the window, meticulously setting everything in place on the tables. Lori is at the register, counting the money. I kill the engine and step out, pushing open the door. The bell chimes. Gwen’s beautiful eyes lift to meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, a smile plays on her lips until she remembers she’s mad at me. Just like that, it vanishes. She goes back to tidying up, acting as if I’m not even here.

Lori steps beside me while my attention stays locked on my girl. “Hey there, handsome. We’re just about finished, closing up for the night.” I smirk. “I’m in no hurry. I could watch her all night.” Lori chuckles, patting my arm. “Okay, Romeo.” She flips the first switch, dimming the back lights.

Gwen walks over, adjusting her ponytail. “I’m ready. Did you get the pizza?” “We’re picking it up now. Figured I’d come get you first, princess.” I wink at her, but she just rolls her eyes and brushes past me. That’s fine. I’ll be keeping count for every time I make her cum all over my dick tonight.

“Be safe, Lori,” I say over my shoulder, following Gwen out the door. She reaches for the car handle, but before she can open it, I slam my hand against the door, stopping her. Her gaze snaps up to mine, sharp, questioning. The way she looks at me makes me want to claim her right here in this empty parking lot press her against the car, make her beg.

“What are you doing?” she asks, irritation lacing her voice. I don’t answer. I just hold her stare. She exhales, exasperated. “Seriously?” “Don’t you know a lady never opens her own door?” She lets out a short laugh, but I stay silent. Her amusement fades into a glare. “Fine,” she mutters. “Only because I’m starving and want to get home.”

She steps back, allowing me to pull the door open for her. With a little huff, she slides inside. I shut the door, move around to the driver’s side, and get in. Then, without another word, I pull out of the lot, heading to pick up dinner.