by B. B. Hamel
I followed him into the hall, with Erin and Penny tagging along. I wished they’d stay behind, but I had a feeling Penny wouldn’t let me go anywhere near Winter alone right now. Not when she was so convinced that I planned on torturing the girl.
I didn’t. I had no reason to. She had nothing useful for me, and so long as she didn’t do anything destructive or try to escape, I’d let her live in comfort until this was all over.
I sinned. Every day I found a new way to smear my soul with black. It came with my business, and as much as it kept me awake at night wondering if I was damned for all of eternity, I still did whatever I had to do to maintain power and shape the world into what I wanted.
In this life, only ruthlessness got results.
But being ruthless didn’t mean wasteful, and hurting Winter would be a waste.
Needless, pointless. There was nothing to gain from that.
So long as the girl didn’t make trouble.
Which, of course, she did.
Anthony led us down the steps and out into the backyard. I found Winter standing next to the pool with a wheelbarrow full of books—very old, very expensive books.
Several staff and guards stood around, looking like they wanted to die. Nobody moved to touch her. I’d made it clear to everyone that Winter was not to be stopped or harmed unless she went somewhere off-limits or broke one of my rules.
Apparently, I hadn’t dreamed up this scenario.
“Oh, lovely, you’re here.” She smiled at me and lifted up a large leather-bound tome with gold filigree all around the spine and the front cover. If I remembered correctly, that was an eighteenth-century religious text on apocryphal biblical stories. “This one looks like it cost a fortune.”
“Winter,” I said, tone warning.
She tossed the book into the water.
I stared as the priceless artifact bobbed to the surface, then began to sink.
The bottom of the pool was littered with objects: an old Tiffany clock worth thousands, small statues, paintings, candlesticks, sterling silver plates, and other antiques. Some of it could be salvaged, but most of it would be ruined.
I wondered how long Anthony had been watching her before he came to get me.
She picked up another book. Smaller, green leather. I didn’t know what it was. She idly flipped the pages.
“I was thinking. This house is full of crap.” She threw the book into the water, grabbed another. “Priceless stuff. You rich people love accumulating expensive junk, you know? I figured, while I’m here, I could help you out with a little spring cleaning.” She laughed to herself. “Spring cleaning. Get it? God, I hate that name, but I can’t resist a good joke.”
I knew the others wouldn’t get it. I hadn’t shared her dossier with any of them. But I understood the black humor.
“Put the books down.” I walked closer.
She glared at me. “Don’t move or I’ll dump them all.”
“Where in all the hells did you even get that?” I asked, gesturing at the wheelbarrow.
“Stole it from the supply shed. Did you know you have a supply shed?”
“Of course. Stop playing this stupid game, Winter. Do you think this is going to change anything for you?”
“I think it’s getting your attention.”
I gestured around at the staring witnesses. “Mine and everyone else’s.”
She frowned, glanced at the others. Her gaze lingered on Penny for the briefest moment before coming back to me.
“I want to go home. You can’t keep me here forever.”
“Yes, I can. Now stop being a child and get back inside.”
Her jaw clenched.
That was the wrong thing to say.
She started to tip the wheelbarrow.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t care about the priceless artifacts. Objects were replaceable, money was unlimited, and frankly, I agreed with Winter. We had too many precious things lying around cluttering up our home. If I had my way, we’d burn the lot and start over.
Except my mother loved the antiques, and my sisters had some foolish notion about keeping my mother happy, and so the crap must stay.
And beyond all that, this was a provocation, an attack on my dignity and honor.
It had to be answered.
I sprinted at her.
This whole stunt was foolish. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would piss me off. And as I charged her like a mad rhinoceros, I realized that maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she wanted.
Too late. I crashed into her from the side and tackled her into the pool.
The wheelbarrow tipped. The books dumped. I couldn’t save them.
We slammed into the water together. She struggled and thrashed. My suit was soaked—another few thousand dollars down the drain, not that it mattered—and Winter was doing her best to drown us both.
I kicked hard and got to the surface. She gasped for breath, her hair matted and soaked, her lips pulled back in a snarl. We grappled, and I managed to hold her against my body, pulling her tight and pinning her arms at the side as I treaded water. I was a strong swimmer and twice her size.
She glared pure hate. It was glorious. I felt her breasts against my chest.
“Let me go,” she said softly, her tone a lion’s snarl.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I didn’t break any of your precious rules.” Her glare turned to a victorious smirk. “Are you going to lock me in your basement anyway?”
My lips were inches from hers. Beneath us, down at the bottom of the pool, priceless books and other assorted artifacts grew fat with chlorinated water.
“I’ll tie you to your bed and use you as a plaything. Or maybe you’d enjoy walking around my bedroom on all fours, my perfect little pet.”
Her eyes widened a touch as she moved closer. Her plump, pink lips brushed against my own and her voice was pitched low and soft enough that only I could hear.
“How would your family feel about that? Taking your captive by force.”
My hands gripped her lower back tighter. “I don’t think I’d need to do much convincing.” But my eyes drifted to the others, still standing and staring. Penny was livid, Erin was bored, and Anthony was loving every second of this. The rest of the staff ranged from horrified to scared to death.
“I’d make you work for every single inch you took from me.” She sounded so quiet and so fierce, and I felt myself stiffen in response, unable to help it. Her body was soft against mine and I could almost taste her lips, and the water dripping from her hair sent wild chills of desire down my spine.
“Good. It’s no fun without the fight.” I release her and kicked away. “Now get out of this damn pool.” I swam to the shallow end and walked up the stairs, water running off my suit in heavy rivulets. I pointed at a group of huddled staff members gaping nearby. “You three, get in there and pull out all that shit. Save what you can, donate or trash the rest.” I pointed at Winter’s guards. “You two, escort our guest to her room. Ensure she doesn’t leave for the remainder of the day.”
“Lock me away,” Winter called out, “but I won’t make this easy.”
I set my jaw and ignored her.
Damn right she wouldn’t. I expected nothing less.
Penny strode after me and caught up before I reached the house.
“What was that?”
“A tantrum.” I stomped my feet. My shoes were fucking ruined. Six-hundred-dollar handmade Italian leather. I’d really liked them.
“No, not that. The pool. It looked like you were about to kiss her.”
“Don’t be stupid. She’s a tool.”
Penny grabbed my arm. “Be careful. Don’t cross any lines.”
I pushed her hand away. “I don’t rape women, but thank you for the vote of confidence.”
She said nothing as I strode into the house, squishing along the carpeted floor. Mother would be livid about all this, but what could she do?
Winter was no
t to be harmed. Unless I ordered it.
And maybe I should.
Maybe that was what she wanted.
5
Darren
The conference room in Servant Manor used to be the small ballroom. When my father was still alive, he’d decided the house didn’t need three big, empty, dance-floor-filled monstrosities and had everything ripped out and replaced with modern conveniences. The fireplace remained, along with some of the original mirrors and lighting details, but otherwise it was completely transformed.
Five men sat around the long oak table, big enough for twenty people. A fire crackled in the hearth thirty feet behind me.
I kept telling myself that one day we’d gather all the oligarch families here and fill the room to the brim with latent anger, animosity, and the constant threat of death, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to make this cavernous hellhole feel packed. But at least we’d fight it out and see who was left standing in the end.
Anthony lounged in the chair to my right. My sisters weren’t present—not because they weren’t allowed, but because neither of them showed much interest in the details of the business.
I liked it that way. The further away they were, the safer they’d be.
What had happened to Liv left everyone shaken. Even ten years later, we all felt her absence like a missing limb. Penny especially—she’d been there when it had happened, and Liv’s death left its mark like a hot iron on her skin.
We never talked about it. That was the Servant way. But I knew Liv was why Erin and Penny both didn’t want to get too deep into the family trade.
Anthony, however, was different.
Losing Liv had galvanized him. He’d always been an outsider, born last and with different eyes than the rest of us, but he was outgoing and gregarious and funny. He worked hard to make everyone laugh, and that engendered a kind of class-clown vibe to him.
At least until that night. Afterward, he’d changed.
Liv’s death was the dividing line in all our lives. Before and after. What happened to her had transformed everything and still worked its horror on us all these years later.
I took a deep breath and pointedly didn’t look at Anthony. I knew he’d be grinning at me. Even if he was trying to take himself more seriously these days, he couldn’t help himself.
We were what we were.
“Gentlemen, thank you all for coming.”
The five main heads of the Ukrainian mafia stared back at me. Hadeon Patrenko sat to my left, a tall, muscular beast in his mid-sixties. He was the leader of the family, the don of their crime organization, and all decisions flowed through him. Next was Ivan, Hadeon’s brother, skinny and astute, more like a librarian than a gangster, but a killer at heart. On the opposite side were Kuzma, Maksym, and Osip, each of them the commanders of important crews scattered throughout the East Coast, from Boston down to Atlanta. They answered to Hadeon but had a lot of autonomy over their day-to-day activities.
“We could not deny your generous hospitality,” Hadeon said, his voice like gravel sloshing around in a dump truck. “I’ll also admit to some curiosity about the house itself.”
“It’s a pleasure to be invited here,” Ivan said.
The others added their platitudes. I nodded at each.
Hadeon looked at me to lead the meeting, and I let the silence stretch. Anthony gave me a look, like I shouldn’t flex my power by making them sit and wait, but I couldn’t help myself.
The Ukrainians worked for the Servant family and had for generations. Their leadership and organizational structure changed over time, but their fealty to the Servants never did. Without our backing, they’d be nothing—swallowed up by the stronger Italians or the fiercer Russians.
My father had a favorite saying. There’s always a bigger fish.
In this room, I was the whale.
“I’m sure you’re all aware of what’s happening with the Liberto family,” I said finally, easing the tension.
Hadeon clucked his tongue. “Shame, that. Chale and his crew did a number.”
The Libertos were in chaos. Giatno and Manzi were dead, which meant the don position was available for the taking, and several powerful contenders had stepped up to fill the void, all while trying to deal with the Ramos cartel. The results were bloody and dreadful.
“It seems that Pietro Masso is gradually taking control. The remaining opposition is broken, scattered, dead, or too busy fighting Chale to do much about it. When the chaos dies down, I believe that Pietro will pledge his loyalty to Roman.”
Hadeon nodded. Understanding bloomed on his face. I liked Hadeon, not because he was a decent person—he wasn’t, the man was a straight-up frightening demon—but because he was clever and competent, and I didn’t have to explain myself more than once.
“That wouldn’t be good. Not with his domination of the MacKennas.”
Anthony cut in. “He owns them in all but name now that he placed his wife’s father at their head. He’s a clever little rat, don’t you think, Hadeon?”
“Very clever,” Hadeon agreed. “But perhaps too headstrong.”
I leaned forward onto the table. “I need you to make sure that the Libertos aren’t able to put themselves back together. Between you and Chale, I want them ground into dust.”
“And one more piece taken away from Roman,” Hadeon said. “I think we can help in that regard.”
“I hope you can.” I paused, studying him. This would cost me a great deal of money—Hadeon didn’t obey orders for free. But he knew that doing as instructed would bring his family greater prosperity, and as long as he kept the cash flowing to his soldiers and his lieutenants, he’d stay in his leadership role.
And in this world, it was either rule or die. There was no such thing as a living former don.
Before I could sit down and begin the meeting in earnest—there was strategy to go over, finances to discuss, other miscellaneous pieces of information to negotiate—the doors slammed open, and Winter strode in.
I stared at her and tried to keep my frustration in check. Of course she’d burst in here right now. The girl didn’t know when enough was enough. She was lucky that stunt at the pool hadn’t resulted in harsher punishments. She’d ruined priceless antiques and upset my mother—which meant I’d had to deal with the fallout.
Winter wore a skirt so short I thought it might slip up over her ass as she stalked toward the table. Her top was tight, cut low, showing off a hint of her breasts. I couldn’t remember giving her clothing like that, but I had to admit she looked fantastic, with her long, lean legs, and that mean-mug face, smirking ever so slightly.
She had no clue she’d just waltzed into a lion’s den dressed like a delicious sheep.
Hadeon stared in her direction and his eyes narrowed. “What’s this?”
“Looks like your new toy’s crashing the party,” Anthony murmured.
“She’s not my toy.” I turned toward her. “What are you doing here, Winter?”
“I heard there was a meeting, and I thought I might be of some use.” She walked over and draped her arm around me, pressing herself against my side. I bristled as her bare skin brushed against my arm and a jolt of desire ricocheted along my spine, down to my toes, and straight back to my brain. She was sultry and gorgeous and her eyes blinked up at mine, wide and doe-like, playing up that bullshit innocence.
She knew what she was doing. This was the pool all over again.
“Gentlemen,” I said, staring down at her, unable to take my eyes away. “Let me introduce Winter Kresswell. She’s a guest at the manor.”
“Hello, Winter,” Hadeon said. “I wasn’t aware we’d be having entertainment at the table, though I will admit, you do not displease me.”
Winter tensed. She didn’t like Hadeon’s implication, and I couldn’t blame her.
“Apologize to the lady.” I turned my attention to the Ukrainian gangster.
He stared up at me with a bewildered smile. “Surely you are joking. Thi
s prostitute—”
I gently pushed Winter away and stepped toward him.
Hadeon was a wolf. He stalked the streets of Chicago and slaughtered whatever lambs he came across—sometimes for fun, sometimes for profit. He bristled with muscles and barely restrained violence, and his nose was crooked from one too many fights.
That didn’t stop me from slamming my fist into the crook of his half-smiling mouth.
He grunted in surprise, head snapping back. The other men at the table began to stand, but Anthony was already on his feet, his gun drawn.
“Easy,” he said, eyes narrowed.
Funny, jovial Anthony was damn good with that pistol.
“You will apologize to my guest,” I said, unable to keep the rage from my tone. “You will grovel and pray this lady forgives you, Hadeon, or I will make sure your pathetic two-bit excuse for a fucking crime family burns to the goddamn ground.”
Hadeon showed his teeth. “You need me, Servant. You don’t have anyone else.”
“I have money and influence. I can buy ten more of you.” I jerked my head toward Winter. “Apologize.”
The moment stretched. Hadeon was not the type of man to take a punch, then say he was sorry.
But I wasn’t the type of man to let him leave this room alive if he didn’t.
Everyone knew it. Anthony wouldn’t hesitate if I ordered him to kill.
He’d done it before. He’d do it again.
This wasn’t smart. Starting a pissing match over Winter hadn’t been my brightest idea, but it hadn’t been a conscious decision—as soon as Hadeon insulted her, I couldn’t stop myself. Even if his insult wasn’t intentional, I had to redress it.
I didn’t know why. Winter was nothing to me, only a tool, a pet, a new toy. Anthony wasn’t so wrong about that. And yet I cared about how she felt, and a hot rage burned in my chest at the thought of Hadeon looking at her like a piece of meat he could take and fuck at will.
I owned Winter. She was mine, under my protection, and I’d treat her as such.
Hadeon let out a rumbling breath and looked at her. “I apologize for my rash words. I did not realize you and Darren were as close as you evidently are.”