Page 6 of Into the Blue (Shades of Vengeance #1)

“And this woman you blew me off for is…?”

In front of my desk, my best friend looks just as pissed as I figured she would be in her pressed pantsuit. It’s a deep navy color I know she picked because she’s working at my place today.

When we were younger, everyone speculated she would be in the WNBA because of how tall she is and her love of the sport. Steph has always been about the money so she chose a different path. Now, she looms over me with her ball player height as smoke pours out of her ears.

Her temper is the least of my problems though. I give her a terse response. “She’s new.”

There was also speculation that her and I would end up together because we were on that court together more times than not growing up.

It’s because of her that I started going by Blue.

She was nasty on the court, throwing elbows, fouling out.

I had a black eye so often because of her sharp ass elbows.

One day she said, your eye is so black it’s damn near blue .

Then she just kept calling me that.

We were only in middle school and other kids caught on to it.

They thought it was too funny that a girl gave me a black eye.

Maybe it’s a Southern thing or a Louisiana thing, but once you get a nickname, regardless of what it is, that bitch sticks.

Can’t ever get rid of it. I didn’t care about losing to Steph or getting a black eye.

What I couldn't abide was the disrespect to me and the base of it being the fact that Steph’s a girl.

Turns out, Steph wasn’t the only one who could throw an elbow or make someone blue with bruises. Bet I never heard anyone say “Blue,” in mockery again. I own the name with pride, while they cower in fear.

It was many years later when I picked up a blade instead of using my fists.

The tattoos only cover part of the damage my hands have seen.

They definitely don’t cover the damage I carry elsewhere.

I flex my hands, feel the tightening of old scar tissue and begin massaging the digits.

Years and four surgeries later, they still don’t work as well as they should.

I’ve adapted and most couldn’t tell. For that I’m grateful.

“New?” She gives me an incredulous look back. “New… at the strip club?”

“She’s a dancer, yea.”

“And I waited at a brisket joint in bumfuck for an hour before Redd eventually showed up without the paperwork you were supposed to be having signed… because of a new dancer?” She was mostly upset because the barbecue spot I’d suggested we meet at was not a five star restaurant with table side service.

She had gotten more uppity over time as her net worth increased.

Something I knew only made Redd damn near feral.

Who am I playing?

That man is feral.

“He did sign it.” I slide the papers across the desk to her and she finally sits in her plush leather chair across from me.

It takes her a moment, but she looks up at me and the incredulous look she had before is now twice as intense. “There is no addendum. This is the original offer I drew up.”

Steph Perry has made a killing in real estate on the legal side, and recently— not so legal side, as she’s been looking for ways we can expand the business as undetected as possible.

We have several small businesses from restaurants to galleries, all keeping the money clean.

The massive warehouse we’re in now, is an actual storage facility for many of these businesses all operating under a larger corporation that I own.

Off Topz was meant to be a joke on her part when she presented the option to me.

Honestly, what is more cliché than dirty business happening in a strip club?

And that’s what made it perfect to me.

Little did I know I was going to see a woman who caught my attention moments after settling that deal. Caught isn’t an accurate word for what happened to me. The moment I saw her, she was under my skin and I couldn’t stop thinking about having her.

Still can’t.

That has never been something I’ve experienced before.

From a young age, my dad had always told me women were only good for a few things.

None of those things were worth repeating to you.

I admired my pop for many things. His treatment of women, including my Ma, God rest her soul, was not on the list. In my mind, I had them very low on my list of priorities because a family was not something that could be possible for me.

Anything associated with me is a target. Just like my Ma, there is no way to save an innocent tied to us in this life.

Pa was a duffle-bag boy, and slung his shit everywhere. No finesse, process, or system. Went to prison twice and came out to keep selling again. He might not have been a picture perfect role model, but he always encouraged me to take the game he was running and do it better.

He had done well for himself. We lived comfortably and his reputation preceded him.

Hence, all the lil’ dudes who tried their luck with me.

I knew it would fall to me to take over the Dupont name and be the successor this family needed.

My little brother, Tony, wasn’t built for this life and with everything I’ve done, keeping him as far from it is the luxury I’ve been afforded.

“Signed and notarized,” I say, still looking at my computer and sifting through the files Redd sent me before Steph came barging in.

“Wow.” She sits back in her seat, letting the folder close. She slicks a hand over her ponytail. “Makes my job a helluva lot easier. I’ll finish this up then.” Steph crosses a leg over the other. I can see the irritation she had earlier receding into nothing. “So, this new girl? ”

She starts in on me, but I hit her with my own nosy ass question. “So, your barbecue dinner?”

She grimaces at me and I already know what she’s going to say, but she says it anyway. “Nothing happened there. I ordered because I was hungry and the food was actually really good.”

“That all?” I hedge. Redd might be a nosy fucker, but he won’t give me more than crumbs when it comes to his fascination with my best friend.

One might think that my two best friends would be friends with each other. Nah . Redd has made it clear that he will not be sitting in a friend’s territory with her in any capacity.

“That’s all,” she says through clenched teeth.

“And Redd—”

“Was annoying as shit, per usual. Why did you even send him if he didn’t have the papers?”

“I didn’t.”

She looks genuinely confused. “So how did he…” She trails off and I let her.

There is no way I’m gonna confirm or deny anything about why Redd knew where she was.

She rolls her eyes. She knows I won’t either. “Whatever. Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about your new girl.”

“It’s a temporary investment.” She raises a brow. “I gotta be seen at the club I just bought. She’s somethin’ to look at while I’m there.”

She scoffs and checks her manicure. “You’d be there anyway.”

Steph was unclear of what I actually do outside of buying these properties. Everybody outside of the life could speculate. Rumors have some merit to them. Which is by design so as few of my people as possible would go down with me if I ever got caught up in some shit I couldn’t buy my way out of.

And there is very little I couldn’t buy my way out of right now. But the things I couldn’t–it would be a tidal wave crashing indiscriminately over all of us.

She is probably the only person outside of Redd who knew who I really was. And she still thinks I like being at strip clubs .

“Wanna come next time?”

“No. I would not. Tits and ass don’t do it for me.” Then, she thinks on it for a bit. “You know… if they had ladies’ night with like Magic Mike or something—I’d be down.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Not at my club.”

“Well, the answer is no.” She smooths the front of her suit after standing and pulls a stack of folders from her bag.

“These are the next. Tell me if you want any of them. My picks are tabbed with red.” She points to the ones she means with a neatly manicured finger.

“And Blue?” She waits for me to stop looking over the files.

When I do, she says, “If you like this girl, then don’t let her get away. ”

I have zero intentions of doing so.

“Heard,” I tell her and she gives me a satisfied nod before her heels click out the door.

As soon as she leaves though, I’m back to my computer.

Reading over more of what Redd sent me about the newest dancer at Off Topz.

I can feel the smile on my face. The selfie on her application captures the bold confidence I saw without question.

Her big hair, like a mane, around a perfect face and juicy lips.

I regret not getting a kiss, but I also know it goes against the rules of the club.

I’ll taste them soon enough. If they’re anywhere near as sweet as the lips I did taste, those rules are protecting more than her.

The rules were just for a private room. Right ?

No government names went out the window, as soon as I pulled her file. From the application I can see Rocky “Diamond” Owens was born Racquelle in Atlanta, Georgia. She has a degree… A masters? Fuck me. Beautiful and smart.

This is her third club and she has references…

If she’s got these degrees, why is she still working at the club for me?

There’s a link to her social media and I fall immediately into the rabbit hole of her strong legs and pole dancing.

Video after video of her suspended in the air from a single leg around the pole.

She maintains crazy height, sometimes spinning at a pace I could never imagine.

In some she’s moving up and down the pole like gravity just doesn’t exist. It’s hypnotizing and some of the videos loop repeatedly before I realize I’ve been watching the same thirty-second clip for five minutes.