Page 2 of Little Crazy

Walking into the Inferno , Clint anticipated an atmosphere akin to the Blue Grotto—a nasty joint that slapped a stench on its patrons they couldn’t shake for days. A joint Clint, Cochise, and their friends burned to the ground for the sin of child sex trafficking.

“I expected worse,” Cochise mumbled when they entered the club.

Clint nodded. Cristof’s reference to the place as a ghetto club had set an image in the cowboy’s head of what to expect.

The Inferno, while nowhere near up to the standards of The Phoenix Club, wasn’t a nasty brothel either. Thank God for small favors. Clint hadn’t looked forward to visiting another shithole like the Blue Grotto—the stink, the strung-out strippers, the suffocating smoke burning the eyes and nostrils. There was a smokey haze to the Inferno, but not so much that it clogged the lungs.

The club catered to men and women, with strippers of both genders gyrating on two separate stages. The male dancers went Fully Monty at the end of their performance. The females didn’t appear to wait until the end of their act to strip naked. The Phoenix Club didn’t allow Full Monty performances, and Clint thought that added class to the high-end club.

The two gangsters approached the bar. “Are the owners here tonight?” Clint asked the bartender, a slender young man with smooth features and slicked-back hair. Not unattractive , but not the cowboy’s type either. Then again, only Axel was his type.

“The brothers?” the bartender flashed a flirty smile. “Maybe.” He leaned on the bar and squinted impishly. “What do I get if I tell you?”

“A thank you,” Clint drawled.

“What kind of thank you?” the young man pressed optimistically.

Clint stared at him dryly.

“Okay,” the bartender sighed and shrugged. “It was worth a try. I’m a sucker for cowboys.” He squinted again. “And I do mean sucker.” He licked his lips and winked. Clint’s face remained deadpan. The young man nodded. “So, you’re not into blowjobs from boys. Memo received.” He pointed across the hazy club. “The brothers are at their reserved booth in the corner.” The bartender turned his attention to Cochise. “What about you, big guy—”

The Egyptian shot him a deadly look and shook his head.

“Okay.” The young man held up his hands and smiled small. “Not a boy-toy fan either. Got it.”

Clint studied the brothers. The younger of the two looked about Cory’s age—twenty-two or twenty-three—with short dark hair, a handsome, clean-shaven face, and a black leather jacket with no shirt, exposing his lean torso. The older brother—late twenties, early thirties—sported a neat beard and a short, stylish haircut and also wore a black leather jacket but with a plain white t-shirt underneath. Currently, the brothers entertained two dancers: a lovely, topless, voluptuous young woman whom the older brother boldly fondled… and a young male stripper who looked barely eighteen who straddled the younger brother’s lap, slowly gyrating his hips. The male dancer was naked from the waist up and maybe down below as well—Clint couldn’t tell for the table blocking his view. For all he knew, they were outright fucking.

“Hey.” Cory appeared, weaving his way through the bodies to the bar. “I’m here.” He grinned, excitement in his eyes. “What’re we doing?”

“Holy hell,” the bartender gasped, eyes wide with instant lust as he stared hungrily at Cory. “Please tell me you have a taste for boys.”

Cory glanced at the young man, gave him a once over, and sauntered closer. He leaned on the bar and gazed at the bartender, winking. “Damn straight, baby. Boys are the best.”

Grunting, Clint dragged him away from the bar. “You’re practically married,” he muttered. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“What?” Cory returned innocently. “I wasn’t touching him. I was just… being nice.”

“Don’t be so nice; Colton will put you on a leash.”

“Maybe he already does.” Cory wagged his eyebrows. “You don’t know what goes on in our bedroom.”

“And I don’t want to know,” Clint mumbled. “Can we focus?”

“Okay. Okay. So, who’s the target?”

“Right over there.” Clint directed his attention to the two men in the corner booth.

“Whoa.” Cory looked shocked. “That’s Ciro and Carlo Caruso. They are the targets?” He raised an eyebrow at Clint. “Are you sure?”

“You know them by sight?” Cochise inquired.

“Yeah. We’ve… crossed paths a time or two.”

“Meaning what?” Clint asked.

“Nothing, really,” Cory said. “Back when Shay and I were partying pretty hard, we sometimes ended up at the same parties as them.” He snorted. “They’re hardcore partiers. Love their drugs.”

“Did you ever speak to them?” Clint asked.

“A time or two. But they were always flying high, and it was quite a while back. I doubt they’ll remember me.”

Maybe, maybe not. Cory had the kind of good looks that tended to be remembered.

“Even if they do,” Cory said, “it shouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like we had bad blood between us.” He looked at Clint. “What did they do that set you two on them?”

Clint’s jaw set. “Beat and raped a teenage boy—after forcing him into prostitution.”

Cory frowned and turned his focus back to the brothers. “You know this for sure?”

“The kid they raped showed up at the foster house. We talked to him ourselves.”

Cory nodded. “It’s just, I wouldn’t have taken them to be those kinds of people.”

“They’re into prostitution,” Clint said. “They’re pimps. Have you ever known a pimp who wouldn’t beat or rape one of their workers if they stepped out of line?”

“No…” Cory mumbled. “Still…”

“Are you in or out?” Clint asked.

“Of course, I’m in. If they hurt that kid, then they deserve whatever you do to them. But these aren’t just random thugs off the street; they’re the Caruso brothers. They’re not a big organization, but they are a known crime family and likely have allies among some other families. I heard they’ve had dealings with the Nazzaro family. Lazarus. Remember him?”

Lazarus. Clint had a brief dealing with him as well. “I remember,” he growled. “He sold you to that little fucker who took you to the island.”

“Something like that,” Cory said. “Though I don’t think Lazarus himself was in on that exchange. Julian orchestrated that deal.”

“Doesn’t matter. It went down in one of Lazarus’ underground clubs. He’s still responsible.”

“My point is,” Cory stressed. “Fucking with the Caruso brothers might end up involving Lazarus as well. I don’t know if they have any allied contracts, but I could see how they might be friends.”

Cochise narrowed his eyes, towering over Cory. “So, we should give them a pass for raping a boy?”

Cory waved his hand. “Not what I’m saying, big daddy.”

The Egyptian’s face twitched.

“I’m only saying this to prepare you for what might come after. That’s all. If they raped a boy, then I’m all for inviting them to the Guest Room.”

Unlike the cowboy, Cory didn’t need unobstructed visuals to know that Ciro Caruso was full-on fucking the male stripper. The younger brother tilted his head against the back of the booth seat, a slight strain on his flushed face as his throat worked and nostrils flared. The stripper palmed Ciro’s bare chest, rocking up and down, then rotating his hips in a very smooth, skillful rhythm—a rhythm Cory often used on Colton.

Cory hung back out of courtesy—not for Ciro but for the male stripper; he was clearly about to cum, considering the quickened pace of his strokes. The stripper’s breath grew faster and tighter. Ciro groaned and grabbed his ass under the table, thrusting harder.

“Uuhh… uuhhh…” The stripper dropped one hand to his dick, radically jerking off.

“ Fucking cum…” Ciro grunted, teeth clenched.

The stripper spasmed and blew his load up Ciro’s chest. Ciro gasped hard and came inside the stripper. The younger brother let out a gasping chuckle and sagged against the booth. He slapped the stripper’s ass and grinned. “You’re hired.”

The dancer smiled and crawled off him and out of the booth. Seeing his face—and other parts of him—for the first time, Cory smiled too. If not for his love and loyalty to Colton… he might have followed the naked young man into the back of the club.

But he wasn’t there for fun.

Ciro Caruso wiped his chest with napkins and fastened his pants. He downed a shot of whiskey and refilled the shot glass from the bottle on the table. Beside him, Carlo buried his face in the female stripper’s chest, licking and sucking her large breasts. One hand disappeared between her thighs, and the young woman gasped, her long lashes fluttering a bit as she moaned and rocked against his fingers. Her orgasm was quick and hard—and loud.

Panting, the young woman kissed Carlo on the mouth and whispered something against his lips as her hand snaked down to his crotch. It didn’t take a genius to decipher her offer. Carlo smiled but shook his head and ushered her out of the booth, lightly smacking her ass. He reached under the table and adjusted his goods—surely hard as a rock—and cleared his throat as he took a shot of whiskey.

“I take it he’s a keeper,” Carlo smirked at his younger brother.

Ciro grinned. “Hell yeah. Nice tight ass, definitely not over-used.”

“Stage or street?”

“Not sure. The way he moves those hips, he’d be an instant fave on stage, but…” He chuckled and wiped his face. “… he fucks like a pro. I think he’d bring in a bundle with that ass. But not for the corner cheap skates. As one of our escorts.”

“That good, huh?”

“Hoo, fuck yeah.”

Cory smiled as a revised plan of action formulated in his head. Uncle Clint wanted him to lure the brothers to the mansion by any means he chose. He hadn’t been worried he couldn’t complete the task, but this new idea was sure to be fool proof. It was time to put his God-given hunkalishousness to good use.

Clearing his throat, Cory approached the booth and flashed the brothers his sexiest smile—and reveled with satisfaction as they both fell under his spell with no resistance whatsoever.