Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
KAI
“ I gave you one task. One fucking task, Kaison! And you go into that casino and try to cause a bigger rift between me and Dominic than there already is.”
Even though I’m a grown man now, I can’t stop the pang that shoots through me at my father’s reprimand. His approval has always been important to me, but it seems like no matter what I do, I disappoint him.
I know why. It has nothing to do with what I do or don’t do and everything to do with the fact that I’m gay. I came out to my dad when I was twelve, hoping he’d say it was okay, that it was a whole new world, and the old rules of the mafia didn’t apply. That didn’t happen. In fact, he pretended I said nothing and tried to get me to sleep with women to prove it was just a phase. It never worked. And no matter how hard he tried and how many women he fucked, none of them got pregnant and gave him another heir. So, he’s stuck with me, and he hates it. He hates me for it.
“Yeah, Pop. I know,” I say in a bored voice. I try to go for nonchalance, so he doesn’t see how his disappointment affects me. Besides, I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t start the fight.
Carter came down fucking with me . I was in his casino, yeah, but I wasn’t bothering anyone. He could have stayed his dumb ass away from me until I was done gambling. I’d dropped twenty grand in that one game that I wasn’t going to get back. He should be thanking me for it.
“You can’t know Kai. Because if you did, you wouldn’t go there and start shit with Carter. You two have been at each other’s throats for decades. You need to cut the shit.”
“No. His family is the enemy. Why should I play nice?”
“Because I fucking said so!” Pop roars. I bristle, but only nod. “If Carter was his younger brother, you would have a fucking bullet in your head, and I’d have to go to war. I don’t have the fucking manpower to go to war, Kaison.”
Carter’s younger brother, Declan, is a fucking loose cannon. He’s killed many of our men and my father has had to retaliate over the years. It’s been contentious between our families because of him. In comparison, Carter is a saint. He’s still a dick, but he listens to his father and tries to keep the peace.
Except when it comes to me.
It seems when we get in close proximity to each other, there are words hurled and fists flying. If it were Declan, he would have shot first and traded insults later.
But Declan could have tried that shit with me if he wanted to. I would have gotten a few good shots in myself before I said hello to the devil.
People have been underestimating me for years since I don’t make it a secret that I’m gay. I’ve had to put men in pine boxes and send a dozen roses to their mothers for testing me.
I cross my arms over my chest, meeting the cold eyes of my father. Thinking back, I can’t remember him looking at me with anything other than disdain. I’m not sure why his approval means so much. “So, what do you want me to do now? Fucking apologize?”
He scoffs, shaking his head as he stands from his desk and steps over to the window in his office. “No. Dominic and I will square it away. I need you to go down to The Fox Club and tap Carl. That cocksucker stole money from me and don’t think I know. I want you to make an example of that bitch. Teach him not to fuck with the St. Clair family.”
The Fox Club is the family lounge, catering to old men that like to drink brandy, smoke cigars, and talk about the glory days. It has a crew of regulars and sometimes some suits like to come in and brag about bullshit after work. It’s a good spot that rakes in a lot of dough.
I nod, smiling. He finally gave me an assignment I’m happy to do. He sent me to the casino to tell Dominic that he had the plan in place, though he wouldn’t tell me what the fucking plan was. I had every intention of delivering the message, but the craps table was calling me, and I felt lucky.
“No problem,” I utter, standing and buttoning my jacket. When I got home, Pop sent me up to my room to clean myself up and put on a new suit. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off, but I didn’t want to hear a lecture about respect. “Anything else? I can take care of Andy too.” Andy is the manager of The Fox Club who had to know money was missing, but didn’t tell Pop.
“No,” Pop says, turning to me with a sinister smile. “Leave him to me.”
On my way out of his office, I motion to my guard, Nico, to join me. He strolls over, an easy grin on his face. “Who’s ass is on the chopping block today?”
I snicker as we step outside and slide into the back seat of my car. “Carl.”
“That prick. I fucking hate that weasel.”
Nico has the right of it. Carl was brought in by one of the old timers that works with Pop. I told Pop over and over there was something I didn’t like about that clown. Now we have to kill two men—Carl and fucking Andy. Knowing that bozo, he was probably in on Carl having sticky fingers.
I grunt in agreement and push my hair back from my face. I hiss when my hand bumps against my eye. Fuck, Carter got in a good shot. Despite what I think about that prick, he has one hell of a right hook.
Nico studies me with a grin. “You good?”
“Fuck you,” I growl, making him laugh. Though Nico was in the thick of the melee, the most he has is a bruise high on his mahogany brown cheek. Besides me—and Carter, I chalk up reluctantly—Nico is a hell of a scrapper.
It’s not the first time Carter and I have gotten into it, but it is the first time we’ve both seemingly lost control. Usually, we’d trade a few blows and that’d be the end of it. This time, Carter seemed out for blood, and I wasn’t about to let that bitch get the best of me. If not for Pop pulling me off him, I would have choked him until he passed out.
With a loud laugh, Nico reaches over and pushes my hair over my shoulder and grips my chin. He studies my eye until I slap his hand away. “Put some ice on it when we get back or you’ll swell like a balloon.”
“Thanks, Nurse Nico,” I grumble. He laughs and shakes his head, sliding back to the other side of the seat. “Call ahead at The Fox Club. Tell Manuel to get the basement ready for me. This will take a while.”
I never use the basement in The Fox Club without my toys. Knives are my favorites. The sharper, the better. Taking the enemies of my family apart slice by slice is my happy place. I wish Carter could be at the other end of my blade, but Pop won’t allow it. But as soon as he does, I’ll poke him with so many holes, he’ll resemble a fucking sponge.
Once we step into The Fox Club, I nod at Nico for him to find Carl for me. I head down to the basement, removing my jacket and rolling up my sleeves as I trot down the stairs. The table set up for me is over in the corner, and I feel a genuine smile tip up my lips as I make my way over to it.
I look down at the lovely assortment of knives on display. If I’d had one when I was at the casino with Carter, I would have given him a bloody smile, consequences be damned.
I fucking hate that guy. His entire fucking family are fucking assholes, always in competition with ours. But there is no competition. We have more money, more territory, more property, more legal businesses. We have more and we’re better.
Scuffling has me turning around in time to see Carl’s eyes widen as they land on the knives behind me. “No! No!” he shouts, fighting against the hold two of my men have on him. Nico steps around them, standing beside me with his arms crossed.
Ordinarily, I would have my prey chained up so I could have my fun, but I’m still feeling on edge from my fight with Carter and I want to work some of that excess energy off. I turn and pull a fillet knife from the table, twirling it around in my hand.
“Let him go,” I tell the men holding Carl. They drop Carl’s arms, and he’s so stunned, he doesn’t move; he simply stands in front of me, shaking. “I heard you had sticky fingers, Carl.”
He shakes his head, stepping back as if to put more space between us. One of my guys pushes him forward until he’s within arm’s reach of me. “No. It wasn’t my fault. It was Andy. He made me.”
I figured as much, but I didn’t think I’d get the answers to what I wanted to know so eagerly. Since he’s in a talkative mood, I decide to get some answers. “Why? Are you not making enough money? Is Andy broke? Why not come to us?”
He drops to his knees, raising his hands as if praying. “He said he wanted a house. That no one would know it was me and he would give me a cut. I never got no cut.”
“So, you’re gonna die with nothing to show for it.” I shake my head in mock disapproval.
“Please, Kai. I’m sorry. I’ll pay back every cent. With interest. Just don’t kill me.”
Annoyed, I kick him in the chest, causing him to fall back with a cry of pain. “Get off your fucking knees. Stand up.” After a few more beats, he stands, his hand on his chest as if he’s in pain. “You know the consequences of stealing from this family. But today, I’ll make you a deal. If you manage to slice me, I’ll let you live.”
“What?” he asks, looking back and forth between me and the table behind me. “If I slice you?”
“Yeah. Pick your knife. Then we’ll get started.”
Carl looks at me as if I grew two heads.
Irritated with waiting, I snap my hand out and grab his arm and push him against the table. “Pick a fucking knife or I’ll gut you here and now.”
With trembling hands, Carl pulls a large butcher’s knife from the table, holding it out in front of him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Carl says in a trembling voice, making me smile.
“That’ll never fucking happen. Give us some room,” I tell my guys, who back up.
“Two stacks say Carl will get a slice in,” Nico says.
“I’ll take that bet,” Manuel chimes in.
I snarl at them but keep my eyes on Carl. His wide eyes bounce around, taking me in, probably looking for an opening. Anticipation sings through my veins, my heart thumping, eager for the kill.
Carl roars and runs at me, swinging the blade at me wildly. I step back and dodge the sharp edge. He does get close though—close enough that I feel the wind whipping past my neck.
He curses and advances again, this time, coming at me with stabbing motions. His slashes are easy for me to avoid. I lean away and lash out with my knife, getting a deep gash into his arm. Blood spurts from the wound and Carl curses, dropping the knife he has to press his hand at to the cut. “Fuck! Fuck!”
“Pick the fucking knife back up, Carl. I’m not done with you.”
He knows he’s in a lose-lose situation. So instead of doing what I say, he tries to run. I allow him to get a few paces away before I pull out my favorite blade from its holster and throw it at him. My knife finds its target, burying itself in the middle of Carl’s back. He cries out and falls forward, his hands scrambling at his back to try to remove the instrument impaling him. It’s buried in to the hilt, so he’s out of fucking luck.
I bend to get the butcher’s knife he had and walk over to him. Grabbing him by his greasy hair, I tune out his begging and pleading and drag it across his throat. The gurgling sounds and his gasps are like music to my ears, soothing the frayed nerves that resulted from my scuffle with Carter.
I drop Carl to the ground and toss the butcher’s knife to the floor. Once I’m sure he’s dead, I turn back to Nico and the others. “Clean this up. Cut his hands off and leave him where everyone can see. That’ll teach him to steal from the St. Clair’s.” I tilt my head, watching the blood pool around him, mesmerized. “And send a dozen roses to his wife.” I pull the knife from Carl’s back, wiping the blood on the back of his shirt before sheathing it.
My men snap to, dragging Carl’s body away and pulling the hose from the wall to rinse away the blood. I look down at myself, frowning when I see the blood on my shirt. I’ll have to leave here through the back entrance, so I don’t scare any patrons. Pop would give me shit for that.
I walk back to the table where my knives are and study them. It’s been far too long since I’ve had fun with them. My fingers ghost over the collection, eager to sink them into someone else’s flesh. Carl was too easy. I need someone I can really play with.
Sighing, I put the blades back down and turn to see that the room is surface level clean. Our housekeepers will have to come in and bleach everything down, but for now, this will do.
I pull my jacket from the hook it’s hanging on and button it up. Looking down, I can’t spot any visible bloodstains, so I’m good in case I run into someone. “Let’s go, Nico.”
His heavy footfalls sound behind me as we ascend the stairs. “You could have let me win that bet,” he grumbles as we pass through the back door on the way to my car.
“Shouldn’t have bet against me, you fucker.” We slide in the backseat of the car and I lean my head back, trying to figure out why that antsy feeling is back. I figured after that fight, I would be on the level. After I dispatched Carl, I felt like I was coming down, but it’s almost as if the scuffle with Carl didn’t take place. It’s like ants are crawling across my skin. I have to fight not to start scratching. I need …something. A release.
“After my shower,” I say to Nico, “get dressed. We’re going to The Devil’s Den.”
I hear the smile in his voice though my eyes are still closed. “Sounds like a good end to the evening.”