Dirty Empire

by Nina West

“Oh, gee, I don’t know… so your bloodline might get some additional protection? Seeing as we don’t have all these guards and walls to protect us.” Caleb waves a hand around the room.

  “You think this is protection?” Dad snaps. “I’m a sitting duck in here. And don’t play dumb. As if you didn’t know what would happen when you handed me that photograph of my brother’s betrayal.”

  Fair enough. We did know he wouldn’t sit too long and retribution would be harsh. “So what do you want us to do now?” I ask, trying to be the one with the level head.

  “What I’ve always wanted you to do. What I’ve been grooming you to do for years. Take over Harriet.”

  Caleb’s eyebrow arches. We expected this. Dad’s been relentless in his push for us to get more involved in the Easton drug empire. “And what about Peter—”

  “Peter is no longer family!” Dad barks, his face twisted in a sneer. “He has proven he can’t be trusted, so the family business is now ours, one hundred percent. Don’t worry about him. You go and meet with the Perris to sort out this mutual issue with our southern friends. And then? Make sure our supply and distribution chains are moving smoothly. Let everyone know we are in charge.”

  We?

  Sounds more like he is in charge.

  “Don’t worry about Peter. Just like that, huh? While he’s actively trying to kill us.” Caleb smirks. “Where’s the fatherly love?”

  “Oh, you want your head rubbed? Your hair stroked?” Dad says with mock concern. “Go find one of your whores to do it. Just keep your fucking eyes open and no one can kill you. It’s up to you two to keep our family legacy alive. I can’t do it on my own, not from in here.”

  I exchange another lightning-quick glance with Caleb to see he’s of the same mind. Neither of us have any interest in Dad’s legacy, and the stubborn bull will refuse to accept that until his dying breath. “Peter won’t take this lying down.”

  Dad scowls. “Bane will make sure he and those lecherous sons of his burn for what they’ve done, and soon.”

  Who knows if Vic and Alexei have any idea that their father has the FBI on speed dial? Vic’s a loudmouth, and Peter knows it. Would he risk telling him? And Alexei is merely his yes man. An optional cog in the wheel. Either way, if Dad so much as suspects they’ve wronged him, which he clearly does, they’re as good as dead and probably not in a neat and tidy way. His go-to guy, Bane—a wiry bastard with calculating eyes who has no code when it comes to who he kills—takes sick pleasure in his assignments. I’ve only met the guy once, but once was enough to know I don’t ever want to cross paths with him again. Rumor has it that whoever dragged the tip of the blade that sliced open the side of his face ended up being fileted.

  While still alive.

  “You will become who I raised you to be.” Dad slaps the table with his meaty palm. “It’s time you two started acting like Vladimir Easton’s sons and not a bunch of idiot playboys. And why have I been hearing about some useless shmuck we’re protecting in here? This Wheeler inmate. What is that about?”

  Shit. I expected Dad to hear about that sooner or later, but the last thing I need is him sniffing around Mercy’s father when he’s spiraling with anger. “It’s nothing. Just pussy.”

  Caleb flashes me a warning look—to keep my mouth shut—before steering a shit-eating grin our father’s way. “This idiot playboy enjoys his life. At least my group showers involve the kind of ass I like.”

  That has the desired effect of distraction. Dad sneers with disgust. “Your mother would be rolling in her grave at the man you’ve become.”

  Oh fuck. Here we go.

  My brother’s dark blue eyes flare with rage. Mentioning Mom in her grave to him is never a good idea, and Dad knows it. He only does it when he’s looking for a fight.

  I move fast for the door, my fist banging hard.

  “Old man still has a mean right hook, I’ll give him that.” Caleb tests his split lip with his finger, pulling away to find fresh blood. His left eye is already swelling.

  I shake my head. It took all four guards to pull those two apart. They moved fast, giving Caleb time for only a few shots. They were good ones though. Dad’s not going to enjoy eating his meals for a few days on account of a sore jaw. Thankfully, Dad welcomes aggression in his sons, otherwise we’d have to worry about both pillars of the Easton empire putting hits out on us.

  On the plus side, Caleb successfully steered Dad away from the topic of Mercy and providing her father protection. The less he knows, the better.

  “Sounds like this is unfolding even better than we hoped.” Caleb’s voice is low as he eyes Donny, ten feet ahead of us.

  “Better?” I snort. “You were hoping someone would blow up our plane with us in it?”

  “Nah. I mean, Dad’s taking care of all the loose ends for us.”

  I frown at my brother, not understanding.

  “You trust Vic or Alexei to keep their mouths shut if they were backed in a corner by the Feds?”

  “No,” I admit. Vic would squeal like a piglet with its foot trapped the second Special Agent Jim DeShaw glanced his way. He’d probably give them enough intel to shut Empire down and tear it to shreds, looking for hard evidence.

  We knew Dad would sic Bane on Uncle Peter. With him gone, our cousins would take over. But Dad’s not going to be satisfied with just his brother’s head; all their heads are on the chopping block. Dad thinks he’s doing us a huge favor, securing the dirty drug business that we don’t want for our futures. He expects us to step in, and he won’t stop until we do. Or he’s dead.

  And this is where our alliance with Merrick and Vince Perri comes into play for our benefit. That we’re helping orchestrate a chain reaction that will eliminate our own father still doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s not like we’re giving the kill order. We’re merely puppet masters pulling strings, not triggers. That’s what I need to keep telling myself to get through this.

  And it’s the only way Caleb and I will get to live our lives. If Vlad has his way, we’ll be rotting behind these same walls long after he’s died of old age. If someone doesn’t kill us, that is.

  But with this plan we’ve concocted with the two younger Perris, we’ll be out of the dirty drug business for good. Leo Perri and the cartel can battle over territory until they kill each other.

  “Can you believe he actually had the nerve to bring up Mom?” Caleb shakes his head, his fists clenching. “It’s his fucking fault she’s gone in the first place.”

  “He’s never seen it that way.” The blame has always landed squarely on Camillo Perri’s shoulders.

  “It’ll always be that way, for any woman crazy enough to get involved with us. Why do you think I won’t ever settle down?”

  “Because you’re afraid your dick will fall off if it’s in the same woman two days in a row?” I tease. Meanwhile, I can’t help but think about Mercy. She’s innocent. More innocent than our mother even, who chose to marry Dad knowing what he was. Mercy didn’t choose this life. She would have happily spat in my face at the start, only I dangled something she couldn’t resist in front of her and lured her in.

  And now… now, something real is happening between us that I sure as shit never expected.

  But she almost died tonight. I almost got her killed. That’s a reality that’s sitting heavily on my shoulders, one I’m unable to shrug off.

  One that scares the shit out of me more than any threat to myself or even Caleb. There’s no way Uncle Peter knows about her yet. Sure, he might hear that two women were traveling with us, but he’ll assume they’re just the flavor of the week, to be replaced or swapped out. Nameless fucks. He’ll never guess that the woman sharing my bed lately actually means something to me.

  If I were a decent guy, I’d tell her to pack her shit and leave tonight and never look in my direction again.

  Too bad I’m not a decent guy. I’m a selfish asshole who can’t stand the idea of not waking to that floral smell on my pillow and the feel of
her warm, soft skin pressed against mine.

  What I can do is make sure no one harms a single silky strand of hair on her head. I won’t let her out of my sight until this shit gets sorted.

  Donny walks us out the last gate. “The big guy mentioned needing extra protection. He wants guards assigned.”

  I meet Caleb’s flat gaze. Dad wants protection from Uncle Peter. That’s something we weren’t anticipating in this little plan of ours. More eyes on Dad means Camillo will have a harder time reaching him after we’ve dealt with Miles, and this plan won’t come full circle.

  But if we don’t give the illusion that we care about Dad’s safety, he’ll grow suspicious.

  I sigh. “An extra guy might be a good idea.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “And I want to know about any visitors or messages coming through for him.” A new burner phone means his contacts don’t have his number unless he specifically sends it to them.

  “I’ll do my best. Fight next week still on?”

  “If Chops is up to it. Keep an eye on him for me.” I hand the guard another wad of cash, which he accepts with a nod and a covert glance around, and then I’m digging the keys for the Lincoln out of my pocket. “Tell me we’re done for the night?” My adrenaline is finally waning. Staying awake for the drive home will be a challenge.

  “Yeah. I need ice and a few hours’ sleep.” Caleb checks his eye in the mirror and curses under his breath. “Look what the bastard did to this handsome face.”

  I smirk. “I’m sure Michelle won’t complain.”

  “Shit, is that her name? I think I called her Meghan.”

  I roll my eyes. “What are we doing about Peter?”

  He sighs heavily, slapping the sunshade back in place. “Bane will catch up with him. There’s nowhere you can hide from that devil. Meanwhile, we drive to Vegas and make that fucking asshole think we’re good, obedient sons and everything’s going according to plan.”

  It is.

  Just not Vlad Easton’s plan.

  5

  Mercy

  I wake to a fingertip skating across my cheek and jolt.

  “Shhh,” Gabriel murmurs, smiling down at me. “It’s just me.”

  “What time is it?” I ask, my voice full of sleep, my head smoggy with lingering scotch. I’m curled up in a lounge chair. The inky dark sky has been replaced with a predawn pinkish hue.

  “Late. Or early, take your pick.” He brushes hair off my forehead.

  Last night’s events hit me in a wave then—the explosion, the squad of armed security guards circling us, Gabriel and Caleb heading out the door for retribution—and heaviness swiftly settles on my chest. Michelle and I hid by the lap pool outside Gabriel’s room, where it felt more private. I didn’t expect to fall asleep, but I obviously did.

  I check the lounge chair next to me to find it empty.

  “Caleb carried her to his room,” Gabriel confirms.

  “What happened? Is everything okay?” My fingertips search Gabriel’s forearms, his biceps, his shoulders, his cheeks, testing for injuries. I see nothing—no bruised knuckles, no drops of blood. Nothing that mars Gabriel’s perfection aside from heavy bags beneath his eyes. I sigh with relief.

  He smirks, as if my doting reaction is amusing. “I’m fine.”

  “And Caleb?” I can’t believe I’m giving that jerk a second’s thought.

  “He’s fine. Everything’s fine.” He tugs at the tie on my robe, loosening it, allowing him to push the terry cloth sides apart to reveal the black string bikini I slipped on in case we decided to go for a swim. He reaches for a triangle cup, dragging it aside to uncover a breast.

  “Gabriel.” I press my hand against his, stalling it while covering myself. “The security guys—”

  “Are out front. The camera is off. Don’t worry, I want them to see this less than you do.” He shakes my grip off and dips down to suck my nipple into his mouth.

  He knows my feelings about spectators, but I can tell how much he needs this right now. Besides, my body is already welcoming his attention. I cradle his head of silky sandy-brown hair in my arms as his tongue lingers over my flesh. “Are we safe now?”

  He pauses his teasing. “You’ll be safe as long as you’re with me.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I was with him last night when we almost died. It seems that as long as I’m with Gabriel, I’m more likely to be in grave danger.

  He lifts his gaze to stare intently at me, and in his eyes I see something I can’t read. “I will never let anyone hurt you. They’ll die for even trying. Do you understand?”

  I swallow and nod. What have you done, Gabriel? I know what he’s capable of doing or ordering to have done. The man who tormented my father behind bars—the reason I found myself living under this roof and sleeping in Gabriel’s bed in the first place—is proof of that. Apparent suicide while in solitary confinement. No one is buying that story, but no one is talking. The worst part? I’m happy that guy is dead. He beat my father to near death. He was going to kill him, eventually. As far as I’m concerned, he got what he deserved. So did Fleet, the guy who tried to rape me, who my father unintentionally killed.

  What do these types of convictions say about me though?

  Maybe I’m no better than Gabriel. Maybe I belong with a man as jaded as he is.

  Especially when I’m looking at him now and am less repulsed by the violence and more enamored with how far he’ll go to protect me.

  I don’t argue when Gabriel pushes aside the other cup of my bikini top and yanks on the strings around my hips, loosening the bottoms until they’re nothing more than a scrap of material that he tugs and flings aside. His dark gaze roams my naked flesh as the first glimmer of sun crests over the horizon, bathing the valley in a beam of light, and I feel my body flooding with warmth and anticipation.

  But instead of his words turning dirty and his hands and mouth venturing between my legs as they routinely do without delay, he stretches his heavy body alongside mine on the chair and lays a languid kiss against my lips, that turns into another, and another, his thumb stroking my cheek with affection. It’s unlike his usual demeanor. It’s… tender.

  I’m dismayed when he breaks free, but he isn’t leaving. He maneuvers to slide his arm beneath my shoulders and pull me into him. I end up half-draped across his body, my face nuzzled against his neck, inhaling the faint lingering scent of his cologne. “I’m sorry to put you through all of this,” he murmurs, stroking my jawline.

  “It’s not your fault,” I say without thought. Maybe it is, though? What has Gabriel done to earn this kind of wrath? And what has inspired an apology from him in the first place? He’s never apologized for anything else he’s put me through up until now, and he certainly has sins to atone for. “I’m sorry about your friends.” I already offered that last night, but I feel the need to say it again.

  His broad chest heaves with a sigh. “Yeah. Me too,” he says, his voice suddenly gruff.

  We lie quietly in each other’s arms, Gabriel seemingly content to watch the rising sun, his eyelids suddenly heavy with sleep, looking moments from drifting off.

  This moment right here, this side of Gabriel… I could get used to this.

  I burrow my face deeper into his neck, dragging my tongue along his hot skin to steal a taste of him. “I was really looking forward to going to Vegas with you,” I finally admit in a near-whisper, as if it’s sacrilegious to say such a thing given the people who died last night. But I’ve never been, and I was excited to celebrate finishing my degree after years of night classes year-round. I was excited to finally have something in my life to celebrate.

  “Good, because we’re still going.”

  “Seriously?” My stomach clenches at the thought of returning to that tarmac. Will the charred plane still be there? “Gabriel, I don’t think I can handle flying—”

  “We’re driving. It’s only four hours away.”

  “Oh.” I pause. “When?”
<
br />   “We’re leaving within the hour.”

  I laugh. “I guess I’m driving, then? Seeing as you can barely keep your eyes open.” Caleb can’t be much better.

  “Farley’s driving. I’ll sleep on the way.” He smirks. “Caleb’ll sleep when he’s dead.”

  He’s joking, but his words trigger another, more serious thought. “We’re taking those security guys with us to Vegas?”

  “Yeah.” A pause and then I feel his body grow suddenly tense beneath me. “Why? Did something happen last night?” His voice is hard. “Did one of them try something—”

  “No, no! Nothing like that.” They barely spared us a glance, that we were aware of, anyway. But bringing a security detail with us all the way to Vegas can only mean one thing. A sinking feeling stirs in the pit of my stomach. I pull away, angling myself so I can see his face and he can see mine. “Whoever blew up the plane last night is still out there, aren’t they?” The threat hasn’t been resolved after all.

  “It’s fine,” he begins to say, shrugging my worry off.

  “It’s not fine, Gabriel. None of this is fine! Or normal.” I don’t mean to sound shrill. But what if this is normal in Gabriel’s world? What if it’s only matter of time before they succeed? “Who’s doing this? Who’s threatening you?”

  A muscle in Gabriel’s jaw ticks. “My uncle Peter.”

  My mouth hangs open for a beat. I didn’t expect him to actually tell me the truth. “Your uncle is trying to kill you? As in, your own family?” He mentioned an uncle once, when I asked if it was just him and Caleb. An uncle and a few cousins, he had said, growing edgy at their mention. Now I see why.

  He sighs heavily. “My uncle is the one who put my father in jail. The snake was working with the Feds.”

  “Why?” Besides the fact that Gabriel’s father deserves to be behind bars. But isn’t there a code between criminals? And he’s definitely a criminal—he murdered four people last night!

  “So he could take over the family business. Take a hundred percent of the profit.”