by KB Winters
My gaze landed on each of my siblings. Kat’s blue eyes were defiant. Virgil nodded, ready to step up and do whatever was needed of him. Cal was there, silent and brooding but present. Terry nodded, a loyal non-blood brother I knew I could count on to have my back. Always.
Kat sighed. “Why? You’re in charge of everything anyway.”
It was a sore spot between us, had been since she came home after college and found herself working for me instead of with me. Beside me.
“Because Kat, I need to find who the fuck did this, which means I need you all to pick up the slack.”
“Any news?” Instantly, her defiance disappeared and was replaced with concern.
“Nothing yet, but I’m not stopping until I find the shooter and who hired him. Kat, you’re in charge of the casinos and the other legit businesses. They need no gap in leadership, so you’re it. And I mean all the casinos, not just the Emerald isle. Get Maisie to help if need be.”
“Got it,” she nodded quietly and reached for more tacos.
“Virgil, I need you to arrange family security every day. Make sure everyone is covered at all times.”
Virgil nodded. “Is that all?”
“No. I’ll need you to step in for me occasionally with suppliers and shit. Let them see that we’re still in control of everything.”
“Got it.”
“Terry will cover business security, making sure the card games have increased security, making sure waitresses, whores, and anyone else who might be a target has protection. That includes the properties too.”
Terry stood a little taller, happy to be included. “You can count on me, Jas.”
“Always.”
We’d been friends since we were kids, two fucked-up boys with more anger than sense. Of course, we got into a ton of shit, but always, Terry had my back. “Everyone check in with me. Daily.”
Cal continued to stare at his plate, filled with two tacos and an enchilada, all uneaten. “And me?”
“Find every fucking second of surveillance footage on every possible route to and from Lucky Lopez. I want to see it all myself.”
There was no way this asshole had gotten in and out of the Green Zone without being picked up by any of the cameras. “Even the ones that don’t exist.”
Sadie, in her infinite wisdom, had offered to pay for new streetlights, all of which came with several high-def cameras because she wanted always to be able to see what was going on in the Green Zone.
Cal acknowledged he heard me with a nod, but otherwise, he still remained silent.
It was starting to piss me off. I opened my mouth to speak, but Kat spoke first.
“We all need to try to visit Ma regularly. If not every day as a group, then at least one of us shows up every day. She would never admit it if she were awake, but she needs us now more than ever.” A sob escaped and Kat wiped at her eyes. “I’d hate for her to die all alone in there.”
“Sadie isn’t gonna die, Kat,” I said quietly. “She’s too stubborn for that.”
She would never let herself be taken out by a bullet unless she was on her knees with the gun aimed right at her head. As long as there was fight left in her, Sadie would fight.
“But I agree, everyone visits at least once a day. Talk to her, make sure she’s well cared for.”
Not that I had a doubt. It was my hospital. Well, I owned the majority stake, and that came with a certain amount of deference. So far, Sadie was treated like the VIP she was.
I filled a plate with food, my chair sliding back as I stood. “Anyone have anything to add?”
A chorus of “No,” went around and with a nod, so I left the dining room. It was second nature to head to Sadie’s salon because that was usually where we retired after a family meeting or Sunday dinner, but I kept going and took the rear path to my suite of rooms.
It was time to call Jameson to see what, if anything, the cops had on the shooting.
Law enforcement in the area were no fans of the Ashby family, but they knew the best chance to stop the violence to come was to find the shooter before I did.
Chapter Four
Mo
I was balled up under the covers. That would keep the monsters out. Eyes squeezed tight, I curled into a ball as heavy footsteps creaked down the hall that separated my room from what used to be my mom and dad’s bedroom. Mom was gone, had been dead for a few years, leaving just my father and me.
The doorknob jiggled, and I sucked in a breath, held it for what felt like a whole day to see if he would step inside tonight or head to the kitchen for another beer first. The telltale sound of the rusty door hinge on top as it scratched against the wall was my answer.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
The bed dipped beside me, and a large hand landed on my back. I let out a gasp. It was a mistake to respond. Some nights I pretended to be sound asleep, and he would go away, drink himself into oblivion and pass out on the sofa where I would find him in the morning.
“Good. You’re awake.”
I said nothing, but I felt the cool air hit my skin as he stripped away the blanket. I squeezed my eyes together even tighter. If I didn’t look at him, didn’t see him take off my clothes, and push my legs apart, then it didn’t happen. It wasn’t my father, just a faceless person doing terrible things to my eleven-year-old body while the hot tears streamed down my face.
I sat straight up in bed with a start. And looked around the room with wide eyes, chest heaving, the fear so visceral I pulled the down comforter around my neck before my surroundings came into focus. The flat-screen television mounted on the wall across from the bed. A beautiful cherry wood dresser just below the TV with a matching chest of drawers to the left of the bed and an armoire near the window. The walk-in closet was next to the main bathroom, filled with designer brands.
I was home. My penthouse condo in Emerald Isle.
I was safe.
“Son of a motherfuckin’ bitch!” It had been months since I had a dream about my previous life. I hadn’t thought of those years in a long time, those awful years that started at age eleven when my tits sprouted up overnight, and they hadn’t stopped until I ran away from home, the day before my sixteenth birthday. It was the only way to stop the nightly fuck-fests, the only way to get a good night’s sleep. And from that moment forward, it had been me against the world.
But damn, that dream was so fucking real my skin was coated with sweat, and my heart still raced with anxiety and fear. I got up and made my way to the kitchen, appointed with a small wine fridge, a top-of-the-line coffee and espresso maker, a six-burner stove even though I didn’t cook, and my favorite, a subzero fridge that kept my late-night booze nice and cold.
This was my place, a gift for keeping the details of Brendan Rhymer’s death a secret, and it was just how I wanted it, expensive and luxurious and most of all, safe.
I dropped down on the plush sofa and curled my feet under me before I downed a shot of tequila and reached for the remote, turning on the television to help me forget the nightmare. The memory.
The memories, or nightmares as I called them, didn’t crop up often, usually, only when I was stressed or afraid, two things I tried to avoid as an adult.
But with the shooting of Sadie and another go-around with Jasper, I should have expected it. But I didn’t because that’s how trauma worked. You forgot the trauma to survive, so you could live in the world without the shadows and demons coloring every fucking second of every damn day. If you did this long enough, you might forget it happened altogether.
Until it returned in vivid color. Often in a nightmare.
I clicked on the TV and found a celebrity cooking show to distract me. Padded to my luxe fridge for another shot and a beer to drown out the memories until they dissipated. I held up the shot glass with a bitter smile.
“Fuck you, dear old dad. Fuck the past, and fuck Jasper too.” All in that order. None of it was worth the real estate it took up in my mind.
The past a
nd my father would reside there until the end of time, but Jasper? I still had a chance to purge him from my heart and mind. Maybe it was time to move on from Glitz. I had the money and life experience that I lacked when I found my way to the desert, so theoretically, I could leave. But the Ashby family, especially Sadie, would never let me go.
Ever.
They would probably kill me before letting me walk away, I knew too much, so it was just a thought. A fleeting thought that popped into my mind whenever some bad shit went down. And it did, often, like whenever I felt my heart ache a little too much from loving Jasper.
Not that I would actually ever leave. I couldn’t, not because of the whole kill me dead thing, but because I owed Sadie too much.
When I arrived in Vegas, a baby-faced sixteen-year-old with a smart mouth, big tits, and no experience in the real world, Old Man Rhymer tried to turn me out, turn me into a trick by ‘introducing’ me to one of his young and handsome business associates.
The guy claimed he wanted to show me his Ferrari, and naive little girl that I was, followed him down a dark alley where the bright red sports car sat shining under the golden glow of an overhead light.
I bent over and looked inside, ran my hands over the soft, buttery white leather with the red stitching, the gear shift, and all the other bells and whistles that were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. That’s when he pushed me face down on the passenger seat, my legs hanging out of the car, and ripped my panties. He’d been seconds away from shoving his gross cock inside me when I heard the click of a woman’s heels followed by a crunching sound and then a gurgling sound.
“Get up, girl. You’re safe now.”
I stood and turned to find the most glamorous woman I had ever seen dabbing blood from her face, neck, and chest.
“Um. This isn’t my car. Take it if you want.”
She laughed. “It’s yours now if you want it. He can’t use it.”
She looked down at her feet, and I followed her gaze to find the man still gurgling on the ground, a knife sticking out of the back of his neck.
“What if he comes after me?”
“He won’t. He’s paralyzed. That’s why his head is the only thing twitching. He can’t move, and he’ll die right here unless you call for help.”
I stared at the man, knowing the right thing to do, but I ignored that look. He was no different from the man I’d run away from.
“Fuck that. I’m not calling anybody,” I said, trying to sound tough.
Sadie smiled and held her hand out. “I’m Sadie.”
“I’m Maureen, but my friends call me Mo.”
She cocked a brow at me. “You have friends?”
“I did. Back home. Now, it’s just me.”
She nodded and pointed at the Ferrari. “You know how to drive that thing?”
I nodded, remembering those lessons that started at fourteen. He would let me sit in his lap, stroking my tits while he explained the different gears, caressing my pussy through my clothes when he let me press the pedals. Yeah, I knew how to drive one, but I never would.
“But I want an automatic.”
I don’t know what she saw in my expression, but Sadie nodded as if she understood. “I’ll take care of it. You ever waited tables before?”
“Yeah. Sure. But why me? How’d you find me in this alley?”
She pulled a wipe out of a purse that I later learned cost more money than I’d ever seen in one place ever in my life.
“I make it my business to what goes on in this town and who comes and goes in it. I’ve had my eye on you, Mo. Let’s just say you remind me of myself when I was your age. I know what it’s like to make it in this town with nobody having your back.”
She turned to me, green eyes fierce. “So, let’s just say, this is payback for me. But I have one rule. Don’t lie to me. Not ever. Tell the truth, and you and I will be good friends.”
I never lied to her after that, and she gave me a job, first as a waitress at the underground card games and then Midnight Mass when it opened. Later, she offered me a chance to make real money, fucking for cash. I took her up on the offer, and she didn’t take a percentage of my earnings like she did with the other girls, not once. She asked only one thing in payment.
“You see or hear something you think I should know about, you come to me. Nobody else, you hear?”
How could I refuse a deal like that? I’d been her eyes and ears ever since.
Then, I was making more money than I’d ever seen at one time, and I was hooked. On the power and the money, and of course, all the shit that money could buy.
Knowing the truth of the matter, where I stood in this world, where I belonged and where I didn’t, I sipped my beer and resolved to play my part in the Ashby organization. I was good old reliable, big-tittied, always down for a fuck, Mo.
Thankfully, thoughts of Sadie and Jasper blended with thoughts of the past until it was all one beer-fueled blur that let me fall asleep while formerly famous people were being yelled at by professional chefs.
It was better than the fucked-up memories.
Chapter Five
Jasper
“Any updates on Sadie?” Terry and Thomas sat with me around a private table in the back of Midnight Mass, a round of Velvet Fire in front of each of us to toast good news or commiserate over bad news.
Thomas nodded. “I just came from the hospital. They took her off the meds this morning. Her vitals are good, and she has no signs of clotting. She’s healing better than they expected. But,” his shoulders hunched forward, and Thomas dropped his hands into his lap, “she still hasn’t come to. They expect her to wake up any fucking minute, so all we can do is wait.”
The anguish in Thomas’ voice was like a gut punch, but even that didn’t stop the smile on my face. “Just like Sadie to do things in her own sweet time.”
Terry laughed. “Remember that time we got in trouble for fighting, and she showed up an hour after school let out and just stared at the principal for a full hour in total fucking silence?”
I chuckled at the memory and nodded, sitting up a little taller to mimic Sadie.
“Since you wasted my time, bringing me in because my boys beat the shit out of bullies you have yet to deal with, I think it’s only fair to return the favor.”
Then back in my own voice, I finished the story. “At the end of the sixty minutes, she stood and left, Terry and me trailing behind her.”
“Classic Sadie.” Terry shook his head, his smile affectionate and worried. She was more of a mother to him and Emmett than their own useless parents, which made his pain as real as mine. And Thomas’.
“Hey, guys, do you need anything?” Mo stood between Terry and Thomas, one hand on her hip while the other held a bottle of Velvet Fire.
“Top ups for ya?” She eyed Thomas and then Terry, ignoring me altogether.
I usually wouldn’t notice unnecessary shit like how my waitresses behaved. Still, Mo was usually a flirt, and when it came to me, she was a big flirt, shoving her tits in my face, winking and piling on the innuendos. Today though, she was subdued, even with Terry and Thomas.
“I’ll have the short rib shepherd’s pie,” I told her gruffly.
She flashed a fake smile and nodded. “And you guys?”
“I’ll have the confit pork belly,” Thomas sighed.
“Fancy fucks,” Terry growled and smiled up at Mo. “I’ll have the Irish stew, please.”
She nodded and refilled each glass. “Coming right up.” Then, without a word or a wink, she sashayed off. Obviously pissed, which was a problem for another time.
When Mo disappeared from sight, Terry let out a low whistle. “Did you do something to piss Mo off?” He laughed and shook his head. “Must’ve been bad. She didn’t even look at you.”
I glared at my best friend, and that only made the fucker laugh harder. And louder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I didn’t have time to deal with whatever was going o
n with Mo. She was rock solid as far as the family was concerned. I’d assigned Hulu as her personal driver until this shooting shit was settled, and she lived inside Emerald Isle, so her personal security wasn’t an issue. She was fine. Safe. Anything else was irrelevant.
I knew I shouldn’t have fucked her. But goddamn, the memory of plowing deep inside her, the way her eyes sparkled when she took me down her throat. How could I pass that up? Especially with the stress of Sadie and Lucky Lopez.
Mo had a slight crush on me, or maybe it was the power I wielded, either way, there were plenty of reasons I should have kept my cock in my pants.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. What Mo was offering—a quick fuck to distract me from everything—was too enticing to pass up. And it was a hot fuck.
“Right,” Terry said, drawing the word out just long enough to pull me from my thoughts. “Something is going on with her. With everything else on our plates, maybe someone should check on her.”
His pointed stare said exactly who he thought that someone should be. He cocked his head and said, “Just a thought.”
Mo returned twice over the next twenty minutes, once to refill our drinks and once with food. Both times she wore a wide professional smile. If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t detect anything off in her demeanor, but I knew Mo. Had known her since she was a mouthy kid who thought she knew everything.
I knew the lines around her eyes were an indication of how hard she worked to keep her emotions in check. I knew the slight pursing of her lips meant she was unhappy about something. The fact she’d refused to look at me meant that something was likely me, or more accurately, my mouth.
“Anything else for you guys?”
Thomas reached out and put a hand on Mo’s shoulder just as she turned to walk away. “You all right, Mo?”
“Me? I’m always all right, Thomas. I should ask how you’re doing. Any update on Sadie?”
Thomas sighed heavily once again as if he was able to forget that the woman he loved was in a coma, life hanging in the balance.