Lee_Pierced

by Sydney Landon

  “And she claims that Wrenn suddenly started pressuring her more?” Luc asks as he flips through his iPad. “From the report, I don’t see anything noteworthy from around the time she mentioned. Could be he just got impatient.”

  “I’m finished thinking anything concerning this mess is a coincidence,” I say flatly. “We need to assume that any change in behavior is relative. Maybe have your guy concentrate more effort there. It could be nothing, but my gut tells me it isn’t. Especially after him trying to strangle her last night.”

  “Wait—what?” Pete interrupts before I can continue. “Who strangled who?”

  I told Luc about the latest developments earlier, but I’ve forgotten that Pete doesn’t know as much about what is going on as Luc does. A fact I now feel like shit about. My brother was always my closest friend and ally. I regret now that I’ve let my need to shield my family keep me from sharing information that they should have known about from the beginning. If there’s a threat against me, then it only stands to reason that Pete is also vulnerable. Fuck, I’ve made a mess of this. I sigh. “Apparently, Liza… Fuck it. Jade was summoned home to see her father last night, and when she made a remark he didn’t like, he assaulted her.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Pete snaps, clearly outraged. “We can’t let that bastard get away with this. Things might be questionable where she’s concerned, but I would have felt it in my gut if she were a danger to us. I don’t know where all the pieces fit together, but I’m willing to bet that she’s mostly guilty of being born a Wrenn. She would never hurt you. Hell, we all know she’s been in love with you for a long time.” So perhaps she wasn’t lying about that.

  “It’s no secret.” Luc nods in agreement. “I realize how it appears on paper, and you both know I’m always suspicious of the motives of others, but I have to agree with Pete on this one. I’ve never felt any negative vibe about Liza either. We need to know a lot more before we can draw conclusions, especially concerning her. Wrenn is up to no good, though.” He flips through a few more screens before adding, “Hunter’s wife, Jasmine Wrenn, died in 1998. As Jade indicated, it was a car accident. There’s not much here on her, and if she’s the starting point to this vendetta, then we need to thoroughly consider the years before and after her death. Why wait this long to come after you? That part makes no sense to me. I’ve heard of biding your time, but this seems excessive for a man who should hate you enough to go to all this trouble to destroy you. Hell, he could have hired someone years ago to get close to you. Why send his daughter?”

  “It is bizarre,” Pete muses. “Generally, people are more inclined to act when their grief or anger is fresh, hence so many workplace shootings within a few days after an employee is terminated. I’d say it’s rare to let it fester for seventeen years, then go balls-to-the-wall for revenge.”

  Luc shakes his head in resignation. “After the shit that happened with Cassie, I didn’t think anything else would ever surprise me, but this has. That’s probably the part that unnerves me the most. The parallels between Wrenn and her. Not that the details are close to the same, but Max, Aidan, and I sat in this very bar and tried to make sense of it all. Then there was the whole mess with Lia’s friend Rose and her family. I realize it’s common that bad stuff happens to good people, but come the fuck on. I seem to be at the point where fucked-up shit constantly hits either me or those around me from behind, and we’re left to run for cover while we attempt to find a rational explanation for some fucked-up stuff.”

  Pete raises his beer and taps it against the one in Luc’s hand. “True that, my brother. If half of this happened to anyone else, I’d think they were lying through their teeth. We barely get back to normal before we’re dealing with something new. Hell, I, for one, am tired of it.” He gives me a meaningful look before adding, “And I’m ready to do whatever it takes to eliminate this threat from our door.”

  “Well, color me happy and drooling! I hardly ever get anything but angry rednecks who wanna drink beer in their truck and try to get their hands under my shirt. But it looks as if I’ve hit the stud-pot today.” Our heads swivel as one, and I inwardly wince as the bleached blonde puts a hand on the back of my chair and chews her gum so loudly I wonder how her jaw isn’t dislocated. Then I figure the muscles in her mouth are probably worked regularly and that brings up a whole other set of images I wish I could block out.

  I give Luc credit for keeping his voice level and cordial as he says, “Hey Misty, how’ve you been?”

  Her tits are fairly squashed against the back of my neck now as she leans closer. Not that I had any doubts going by the size, but they’re fake and not great ones at that. They’re so hard that with just a little force, she could probably knock me halfway across the table without every lifting a finger. “Oh, you know, sugar, just taking awesome to a whole new level as usual.”

  “I’ll bet you are,” Pete mumbles under his breath, while keeping a smile plastered across his face.

  “It’s a dirty job, but I’m sure you’re more than up for it,” Luc replies diplomatically. Of course, his double meaning is clear to me, but the giggle from Misty says that she hears only a compliment in the words.

  “You know that’s right, handsome,” she purrs. She’s so fucking close to me now that her breath stirs my hair. “So refresh my memory here. I know I’ve seen these two, but what’re you boys’ names again?”

  Boys? She has no fucking clue who she’s dealing with. I wish I’m the gangster Jade is accusing me of being. Hell, surely Tony Soprano wouldn’t let this insult go. “This is my father-in-law, Lee, and his brother, Pete.” Luc makes the introductions, saving me from saying something she’ll likely never forget.

  “That’s right.” She clicks her tongue before finally moving away from me, only to walk around the table until she has a view of all three of us. “How in the world can you be anyone’s father? You’re way too hot to have a kid that old. What were you, like ten when you created her?” I almost wish she’d stayed behind me. At least then I wouldn’t be forced to make eye contact while attempting not to stare at the huge amount of cleavage she has on display. And then I make the mistake of reading the saying on her shirt. ‘Nipples… they’re not just for babies.’ Holy fucked-up shit. Who comes up with something like that? And has anyone other than Misty bought one?

  Apparently, she’s waiting for me to answer her question. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Something like that.” If I thought to shock or even disturb her, I’m sadly disappointed because if the look on her face is any indication, I’ve just moved up a few levels in her eyes. Fucking perfect day.

  “I thought you were devoted to our boy Aidan,” Luc says. Instead of being pissed that Misty has the hots for his future son-in-law, Pete appears amused. Did I miss a memo somewhere? It’s like a private joke I’m not privy to, and I’m irritated. So much for a serious meeting. This has turned into a three-ring circus.

  Misty rocks on her feet, and I wonder if gravity will have her face-planting on the table at any moment. “Oh no, I had to give that up. Kara’s my girl now. We got each other’s back.” She thumbs her chest before adding, “Hoes before bros. Know what I’m saying? If he came in and begged for it, I’d show him the door, really quick like.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes, then adds wistfully, “Damn, it would be tough, because I’d just love me some Aidan. But he’s with Kara. Plus, since she was his first, they have that special kind of bond.”

  Luc and Pete choke almost simultaneously on their beer, while I wonder if I’ve heard her correctly. Aidan’s first what? Love? Maybe she doesn’t know about Cassie. That makes sense. But why are Luc and my brother laughing? I rub my forehead, as if willing away the headache that is once again pounding there. “There’s no shame in remaining a virgin,” Luc manages to say with a straight face. Just when I didn’t think this conversation can’t get any weirder.

  “Sure, that’s right,” Misty muses. “Although, I’ve gotta admit, it’s a tiny bit of a turn-off. Us
women like to know that our man can wear the pants. You know, take charge and show us a good time. He’s a handsome devil, so I would have been willing to give it a shot. But I prefer a little more experience under the hood. There’s a big difference in being the driver for one night and having to sit in that seat all the time. You get my drift?”

  “Loud and clear,” my brother replies with a blank expression I truly admire. And I thought I had a good poker face.

  “Anywho”—she smiles broadly— “I know these two are taken.” She points at Luc and Pete. “But what about you, handsome? I don’t recall Kara mentioning anything about you being married, and you’re not wearing a ring.”

  Before I can come up with a reply, Luc quickly interjects, “He… um… bats for the other team.” When I turn my head to stare at him incredulously, he shrugs. “Not all the time. Just some of it. He swings both ways.” What. The. Fuck?

  Misty looks as if she’s just won a year’s supply of tacky T-shirts. I can practically see her hormones surging, and I’m damn near ready to throw my beer bottle as a distraction and run for my life. I shoot my son-in-law a scathing look before telling Misty, “I’m currently involved with a woman. And I’m sorry to say that neither of us share.”

  Her huge tits jiggle alarmingly as she releases a breath before popping out her bottom lip in an elaborate pout. “I swear, why are none of you guys free? If you had an hour with me, you’d never be the same.”

  “I don’t think any of us would disagree with that.” Luc grins.

  “Here, here,” Pete chimes in, holding up his bottle to click against Luc’s. “You’re certainly one of a kind.”

  Misty preens, accepting the compliment at face value. “Toby should appreciate me more. Does he have any idea how lucky he is? I could go home with half the men in here every night, but do I? Nooo, I’m loyal to him.” I’m hard-pressed not to point out that she’d just been trying to pick me up, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself again. Hell, thanks to Luc, I’m already a challenge to her. She’ll have bragging rights for years if she can turn a bi-man straight again. Little does she know, that the opposite would be more likely to happen were there any truth in the whole thing.

  Thankfully, a table of guys who are apparently her regulars come in, and she smiles over at them flirtatiously. “We’re fine here, Misty, if you need to take care of that.” Luc nods in the direction of the new arrivals.

  I must admire the way she seems to simultaneously pull her shirt down and her shorts up for maximum exposure before sashaying off with a roll of her hips that would do most anyone on a street corner proud. “What is wrong with that picture?” Pete chokes out.

  “I’m thinking… a lot.” I shake my head. I’ve gone from being irritated at the interruption to grudgingly amused. It is hard not to be. Misty is so overly confident on the one hand, and almost adorably clueless on the other. You have to be impressed at how she goes through life encased in her own little bubble. I’d wager a bet that she stays less stressed out than the rest of us. There’s something to be said for picking and choosing your own reality. If you believe it’s true, then fuck what the rest of the world says. Isn’t that how a lot of life works? Fuck, I’m getting philosophical in my old age.

  Seeming to echo my thoughts, Luc adds, “No doubt, but I kind of like her. She’s fucking nuts on a good day, but she brings a certain something to everything around her. Kind of like fucked-up confetti.”

  “That’s certainly one way to look at it.” Pete laughs.

  Luc glances at his watch, before getting to his feet. “I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes, so I need to cut this short.” He claps my brother on the back, adding, “Pete, good to see you, man.” Then he looks across the table at me. “I’ll be in touch when I know something.” I nod as he tosses some bills on the table.

  When he’s gone, Pete asks, “Have you considered contacting Anthony?”

  I don’t need him to repeat the question, because even though I probably know a dozen men by that name, there’s only one who could possibly be of use to us now. Anthony Moretti, Draco’s only acknowledged son. I’ve heard rumors through the years that there are others who claim to be his illegitimate offspring, but to my knowledge, none have been tested to prove their heritage. Whereas I inherited Victor’s holdings, Draco left his estate to Anthony. There’s a ten-year age difference between us, so I’ve been more like his big brother than friend. I’ve bailed his ass out of trouble at the fancy private school Draco insisted he attend and loaned him money when his daddy cut his allowance off over some shit he was involved in. Truthfully, I love the kid. He’s bright, funny, and charismatic. He inherited that air of dangerous charm that always made his father so popular. Victor and Draco have been dead for many years now, and even though I’ve kept tabs on Anthony to ensure he’s okay, we haven’t spoken in longer than I care to remember. He used his money to open several nightclubs in North and South Carolina as well as Georgia and Florida. He took the Moretti fortune and built on it, instead of being content to live the easy life. He’s also gradually distanced himself from his father and Victor’s unsavory associations. Although I knew he would always be a member of the Moretti clan, I’m strangely proud of the man he’s become. I sigh as I realize my brother is still waiting for an answer. “I’ve thought of it, certainly,” I concede. “He was barely twenty-one when Draco died, though, so it’s doubtful he knows any more than we do about that time.”

  “He was young, yes,” Pete says, “but to have broken the ties that he has, it would have been necessary to have an in-depth knowledge of Draco as well as his holdings. There may be something of benefit there.”

  He’s right, of course. There’s no one in a better position to help than Anthony. The fact that I’ve been hesitant to reach out to him is largely due to my guilt for not making more of an effort to remain in his life. We were once a family, but as I set out to turn Falco in a new direction, I left the old one and those associated with it behind. Anthony, unfortunately, was a part of that. It’s not that I wouldn’t have come to his aid should he have ever needed it, but that’s never seemed to be the case. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was a born leader and is a decisive and successful businessman. “I’ll get in touch with him.” I nod in agreement. We talk for another few minutes before we leave. I’ve been fully prepared to throw Pete to the wolves or wolf and run, but luckily for him, Misty is nowhere to be seen. Poor bastard, he has no idea how close he came to being mauled. Regardless of what she said, I’m sure she’d bend all her moral rules in the blink of an eye.

  I’m strangely hesitant to go home. With her there, it’s no longer my sanctuary. Even though I rarely use public transportation, I hail an approaching taxi. It squeals to a stop with impressive accuracy. I grimace from the smell of old smoke and body odor as I settle in the back seat. It’s amazing how easily these things offend me now when once I would have given them no thought. Have I become so used to the privileged life I now live? It’s a sobering thought for a man who thought he’d always be more street thug than gentleman. I give the driver the address of Anthony’s club from memory. I have no idea if he’ll be there or not. But I do know that his personal quarters are on the top floor of the renovated industrial building that houses Nyx. I’ll admit, I’ve been curious about the unusual name Anthony chose for his club, so I did some research and discovered it meant goddess of the night. The reference to darkness makes sense, considering how he was raised. As far as I know, he’s never been in a serious relationship, so that part is a bit trickier. I don’t believe it’s random, though. Even when he was young, there was always a meaning behind everything he did. And from what I’ve gathered, he’s become more intense with age.

  The vehicle comes to a stop so abruptly, I’m forced to grip the back of the somewhat sticky seat. I try not to dwell on what has been there before me as I hand the driver the fare and a tip that has him thanking me profusely. I wave away his gratitude and step out onto the sidewalk. Even in the light of day
, the concrete and glass façade of the club is impressive. I know from photographs that purple floodlights illuminate the exterior at night, making it appear almost iridescent.

  I stride toward the double doors and am surprised when one opens easily under my touch. Somehow, I didn’t expect that at three in the afternoon. Surely, a man like Anthony Moretti is more security conscious. Then a picture of Liza… fuck, Jade fills my head, and I realize that for all my attempts at safety, she’d waltzed straight through the front doors of Falco and fooled everyone there. But what had she been after? Or more so, why after all this time had Wrenn targeted me? Did he really not know that Draco had purchased Wrenn Wear?

  I’ve barely taken two steps into the dim interior when my arm is gripped. I react instinctively, freeing myself within seconds, then pressing my unknown assailant against a nearby wall with my forearm against his throat. He gasps and claws until I tighten my hold, effectively immobilizing him. “I’d appreciate it, Lee, if you’d release my manager before you kill him,” drawls an amused voice from behind me. It’s almost painful to bank the adrenaline pumping through my body. I force myself to relax, and the man before me wrenches away, coughing and cursing.

  “Sorry about that, but in the future, you might want to know a bit more about who you’re putting your hands on before you do it.”

  “Fuck you,” the man wheezes out, from where he still leans against the wall.

  “He’s right, Jax.” Anthony chuckles as I turn to face the man who is no longer a boy—and hasn’t been for a long time. He’s older, certainly, but that’s not what I notice first. It’s the hardness around his mouth that wasn’t there before. Even smiling as he is now, he’s alert and poised for any and all threats. It’s a survival skill that cannot be taught—you’re either born with it or you’re not. Sure, a person can learn how to fight and win, but Anthony’s eyes see things that aren’t even there yet. His brain is scanning the area for things out of place. It’s as instinctive to him as breathing. He is Draco Moretti’s son and Victor Falco’s godson. He’s been taught by the best—but he’s better. His skills are natural—I recognized that fact years ago. He never stood in the shadows of his powerful father. He is his own man. He extends a hand to me, all politeness and civility. “Lee, it’s good to see you again, brother.”