Secrets of the Mazza: A Paranormal Romance (Mazza Series Book 3)

by Blake Blessing

  “We’ll take care of that. No need to alarm anyone. Emmett.” Milo nodded to Emmett over my head and circled my bicep with long fingers. “Let’s go. My car is right down the street.”

  I gulped, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute, trying to figure a way out of this mess. With Milo’s firm grip on my arm, they weren’t giving me a choice. The Mute walked so close to my back, his breath feathered over my neck. There was no way out.

  I was fucked.

  Chapter 1

  Milo

  Two hours earlier

  Damn Emmett and his fuck toys.

  I banged on his door with a heavy fist and stared down the hallway. As an old colonial house for the Fraternity residence, there were about ten bedrooms on the second floor. Doors lined the left side of the hallway while a wrought iron railing trailed down the right. It was too damn pretty for the bunch of limp dicks that lived here.

  Incessant giggling traveled through the door, and I sighed.

  “Fuck, Emmett. Is now really the time?” The bastard was my best friend, but I didn’t love him so much that I couldn’t recognize his flaws. And his biggest one was his inability to keep his dick in his pants.

  “Sorry, sweethearts, Daddy Milo says it’s time for you to leave.” His voice was muffled, but even so, I could hear the raspy purr he insert in his voice whenever he spoke to women. “No, don’t bother. I won’t call.”

  A loud crack pulled a smile from my lips. Damn. I loved it when he offended his fuck buddies. It was never ending amusement for me because he just didn’t care enough to change.

  The door swung open so fast, a draft raced over the back of my neck. Two half-dressed sorority girls sped walked their way down the hallway. Hair mussed. Skirt askew. Any of the brothers who saw them would know immediately they were selected and rejected. It was essentially the code of the brotherhood.

  “What crawled up your ass, Milo?” Emmett smirked as he leaned a forearm on the top of the doorframe.

  “Man, put some pants on. No one wants to see the print of your erect dick.” I spat in disgust. I swore, he liked to flaunt his hard cock to annoy me. The silky boxers were the perfect weapon to parade his dick tent.

  He laughed under his breath. “You didn’t let me finish. What do you expect? At least I put on underwear before I sent Stace and Lace back to their house.”

  Stace and Lace. Two of the most uptight bitches on campus. They were so stiff and cold, I doubted they’d be good for anything other than a two-pump-fuck. But whatever. Emmett didn’t have standards. He was more about the chase. And once he caught, he released and was on to the next piece of ass that crossed his path.

  “It’s fight night at Freddie’s. Like always, we have to be there early. How about for once you don’t get distracted so we can be on time?” He rolled his eyes at my curt tone.

  “Give me five. Grab Jules, and I’ll meet you in the Caddy. Cool?” He shut the door without waiting for me to respond. Fucker.

  I knocked on the next door with much less force and waited for Jules to answer. I didn’t have to worry about him like I did Emmett. Oh, he still got laid whenever he wanted. The girls at Wellington University ate his ass up whenever he offered himself up on a silver platter. They loved a damaged hero, and since he didn’t speak, they imagined all the things he might say to them if he could. Classic romanticism in play. It didn’t matter that he would say none of the flowery things they planted in his mouth. Before he lost his voice, he was the crudest, rudest kid on the block.

  The door cracked, and when Jules’ vibrant green eye spotted me, he opened the door the rest of the way. No words were necessary between us. He snatched a beat up, vintage leather jacket off of his desk and stepped out into the hallway. He locked his door with an old iron key and waited to see what I would do.

  I walked down the hallway, greeting brothers with smiles and head nods. The perfect, charming president. The one who everyone loved both within the frat walls and the university halls.

  “Emmett was getting his dick wet again. I guess I should be thankful he ended his session short. Remember that time he refused to leave his bedroom until he nutted?” I glanced back over my shoulder to see a quick flash of white teeth before Jules settled into his standard grim expression. For him, that was the height of hilarity.

  “Yeah. He’s gained some self-control since last semester.”

  We climbed in my Caddy, and I fumbled with the air and music while we waited for Emmett. I stopped on SAD!, letting the beat wash over me. He came racing out of the house and dove in the backseat like we were trying to get away from a dangerous job. Not that that hadn’t happened. It was just unnecessary tonight.

  The tires squealed as I reversed before his door was completely shut. I grinned as Emmett cursed. Yeah, I liked to act like we were on the getaway from time to time, too.

  “Milo, I forgot to tell you, your dad called. He was looking for you about an hour ago.” Emmett propped his elbow on the edge of Jules’ seat and flicked his ear. Jules slapped him on the forehead and left it at that. It was hard to work him up, man. He was so good at keeping a level head. Exactly why he complimented our trio.

  “Fuck him,” I growled. “I’ll call him when I’m ready.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I thought I should let you know.”

  “Noted.”

  The drive to Freddie’s was quick, located a few blocks off campus. This neighborhood was shit, but the club was legit. The top two levels were for dancing, and the basement was for fighting. A perfect combination for entitled brats to get off.

  “What’s the plan?” Emmett drummed his fingers on the back of my seat. It was probably a blessing that he loved women so much. With as much restless energy as he had, if he didn’t spend his time fucking, he’d probably build bombs and scatter them under bridges for the fun of it.

  “We lay low until I say otherwise.”

  “Smartass.” He grumbled, then grinned. Emmett always asked the same question, and I always gave the same answer.

  We approached the door and Vinny, the veteran doorman, unlocked the chain and waved us through. Ninety percent of the time, beautiful women received the VIP treatment. If you were gorgeous and had a decent rack, they let you in cover free. The idea was all these poor dickheads would be even more willing to spend the cover to join the beautiful women they watched enter. Then they were willing to lay down tons of cash on drinks on the hopes that they’d get a fuck buddy for the night.

  But we were the exception. Alpha Delta Omega was royalty in this town. Pockets were deep, alumni were connected, and the precious members were not to be fucked with. All in good fucking fun, of course.

  I breezed past the door, swallowed up by the thumping bass and moving black lights. Girls smiled coyly at me and douches lifted their drinks or chins in acknowledgement. I did my thing, smiling politely and doing my own version of acknowledgement. These fuckers had to think they were important. That they had some kind of connection to me because it made them feel better about themselves. They did. Just not for the reasons they thought.

  The edge of the dance floor came into view, and instead of pushing through the crowded gyrating bodies, I took the VIP lane right passed the red rope until we reached our table. It was our Fraternity table. Several guys were already there. Charles, the suck up whose dad did business with mine. Derek, whose family donated the money required to build the new art building this year. Then the unfortunate twins Johnny and Jaime. Unfortunate, because their family had more money than God, but for all that money, they were ugly as sin. Good fighters though. And they were on tonight.

  Johnny reached out a hand to slap me on the back. “Milo, glad you made it. We have about an hour before the show.” That was code for the fights. Everyone knew they happened, but they were never referenced as anything other than the show. Self-preservation maybe, but probably more like spoiled brats wanting to feel like they had access to something held separate from common society.

  “Great to see you,” I grin
ned and made a point to make eye contact with every single guy at the table. “We’re going to kick ass tonight. I can’t wait to see the faces of their fraternity president. I hate that fucker.” The fighters weren’t always frat boys, and most of the time they weren’t. It was the rare moment when it was frat against frat. Space was going to be nonexistent in the basement.

  Chuckles drifted around the table. I slid onto the fancy leather seat at the back of the table as Jules followed me. Emmett stayed standing as his gaze tracked a sexy piece strolling up to take our orders. He tilted his head down as she stepped right into his space.

  “Drink?” her voice was husky and hopeful.

  “Yeah, babe. Blue moon, extra orange slice.”

  She slid her gaze to Jules, and her tits pushed against her skin tight corset. Here was a classic case where Emmett could make panties drop, but Jules was on a completely different cloud to these women. Emmett caught it and shrugged good-naturedly.

  “He’ll have a coke and amaretto.” Emmett trailed a finger over the lace barely covering her tits. Oh, he definitely noticed when she took in a deep breath at the sight of Jules.

  She sighed. “Sure. And you?”

  “Whiskey, neat.” It was all my father ever drank. My grandfather, too. A bunch of pretentious assholes, and no matter how far I distanced myself from them in personality and goals, this was the one damning mark I inherited.

  But I wouldn’t be drinking tonight. On these nights, I never did.

  The waitress left and the table watched her leave.

  Jules nudged me. When I glanced at him, he showed me his phone.

  Who is the target tonight?

  No one was paying attention, the rising high for the fights tonight already bleeding over into my frat brothers. The dance floor was nearly electric with the same dangerous vibe.

  I took the phone from Jules, erased his message and texted back one word.

  Fuckface

  He raised his head, searching the table on the far side of the VIP section. Delta Psi Delta claimed that table. After us, they were the next largest fraternity here. Only they had none of the elite alumni we had. None of the connections. If Alpha Delta Omega was the equivalent of old money, then Delta Psi Delta was the new up and comers trying to find a spot in this world.

  Emmett, Jules, and I, we never used real names. Not in the conversations that mattered. Sure, we nicknamed nearly everyone and everything, but some were exclusive to our trio. We all took some kind of sick satisfaction from doing it to our potential targets. This one, fuckface, was Jules’ pick. He had a run in with him at some party Jules attended on his own. I was otherwise engaged that night, and according to gossip, fuckface had been mouthing off about the fucking mute of Alpha Delta Omega. Jules was quiet, that was a given, but more than that, he made no sound when he wanted to blend into the background. Fuckface hadn’t even known he was there.

  Once fuckface had his fun, Jules left the shadows and positioned himself in the center of the room, staring him down with an icy gaze. Jules hadn’t even had to do anything. Fuckface lost all color in his face, and two of our newest members herded him out of the room. When he emerged the next day, his face was swollen and his pinky was broken.

  Even though I hated everything the fraternity was, one very convenient benefit was the brothers always had our backs. Always. Ever since that night, I had wondered why none of fuckface’s buddies took his back. Not that I particularly cared, but in our game, we had to know who was who in the zoo, and how much support they had. That was the only way to know how far we could go in our game. Because it was all a game, and we were playing to not only win but destroy every fucking player.

  The long table was nearly empty, so there wasn’t anyone there to keep Jules’ attention. He nodded and turned his head to stare at the dance floor. Such a steady fucker.

  Frantic screaming broke through the thumping music, drawing attention to two girls in the corner, throwing down in a major catfight. A crowd had already gathered, so there must have been some kind of buildup. Another scream as the blacked haired beauty pulled out an entire strip of hair from her opponent.

  Emmett whistled as he leaned back on his elbows. “My money’s on the Super Model.”

  “Oh, yeah? And which one is that? Both are hot.” Jamie stood to get a better look. It wasn’t hard. The VIP section was on a platform, allowing us entitled pricks to lord over the commoners.

  “Well,” Emmett drawled, “the tall, slender girl with black hair and small tits, that’s the supermodel. The other one has that slut next door vibe to her. All wholesome looks and very little scruples. That’s the one that got her weave ripped out.”

  “How can you tell she’s has very little scruples?” Charles swirled the amber liquid around in his glass.

  “Because I had her last year. There were no hard limits. Like I said, very little scruples.” Emmett smirked as he watched the fight down below.

  The Super Model got in a good uppercut, right as a new girl rushed into the fight. Damn, Super Model could throw down. I might have to see about adding female fights to the docket. Freddie could thank me later with all the cash he’d make.

  The new girl wasn’t there to fight. Her lips moved, but she was too far away to make out any words. She tugged on the arm of Super Model, unsuccessfully trying to pull her away. Slut-next-door noticed her and instead of bowing out gracefully to save face, she bitch slapped the new girl.

  “Damn. That looked like it hurt.” Jamie mumbled.

  “Oh!” Johnny laughed as he pushed his chair back.

  “Pin-up did not like that,” Emmett mumbled, walking to the rope that separated us from them. No one even questioned his choice of nickname because this one had curves for days and long, wavy blonde locks.

  The girl he had accurately described as Pin-up stopped pulling on her friend, calmly stepped forward to grab the girl by the hair, and slammed her head against the table next to them. There wasn’t even a fight after that. Slut-next-door slid slowly to the ground as if in slow motion, until she plopped on the ground.

  Jeers and catcalls nearly burst through the roof as Super Model and Pin-up quickly left the dance floor.

  Johnny stood up and looked at Jamie expectantly. “Let’s go line up our prize for after the fight.”

  Emmett laughed and tossed back the last of his beer. “Let me guess, Super Model?” Tall, skinny ass women were their style, and the darker, the better. Tan skin, black hair, dark eyes. That was their type exactly.

  Jamie shook his head and grinned. “Not tonight. Pin-up is scrappy, and she deserves a fighter. Or two.” Johnny and Jamie straightened each other’s collars and hair before they simultaneously nodded and headed off through the crowd.

  Across from me, Derek tossed an arm over the back of his chair, the top button of his shirt strategically unbuttoned like he was fucking Don Juan. “Those two are going to get in trouble. I heard they only ever share.” His voice grated on my nerves.

  “What’s wrong with that?” Emmett snapped a glass of champagne off of a passing tray. “They’re having fun, so who cares.”

  “Like their family is ever going to allow them to marry the same girl.” Charles put in.

  I lifted my glass and pretended to take a sip. “Doesn’t matter what Daddy wants, I doubt they’ll ever get married anyway.” Damn it. Why did Johnny and Jamie have to take off already? They were first generation Alpha Delta Omega, unlike the rest of us. Without the ingrained pretention, those two were actually bearable.

  Derek shrugged like this wasn’t a conversation worth continuing.

  I glanced at Jules next to me. The spot where the girls had fought had already filled up with new patrons, but it held his complete attention. I nudged his knee with mine, and he jumped. His gaze locked with mine, and he shrugged. Emmett noticed our exchange, quirking an eyebrow before turning away.

  Ten minutes we would head down to the fights. We would watch. We would pretend. Then, when everyone shuffled out, drunk on adren
aline and wasted out of their heads, we would act.

  Now up for preorder HERE

  Other Titles

  The Mazza Series

  Marks of the Mazza

  Bonds of the Mazza

  Secrets of the Mazza

  War of the Mazza (Coming summer 2020)

  Astrid Scott Series

  Pretty Lies

  Ugly Truths

  Busted Dreams (Coming spring 2020)

  Contemporary Romance Standalone

  Full Glasses and Burju Shoes

  RH Standalone

  Pin-up Girl

  Who is Blake?

  In the mind of Blake

  Okay, so as most of you know, Marks of the Mazza was my first book baby. With each Mazza book I get a little more attached to the guys. I’ve been waiting since book one to give you this book! I couldn’t wait to give you a glimpse of Brody. And the scene where Yunez tells the LL he’s a screamer! LOL, I couldn’t wait to give you that particular gem, it just wasn’t time, but it has been in the back of my brain since before the book one was a thing.

  I hope you enjoyed the action in this book in more ways than one.