Chapter 7
Seven
JULIAN
“No killing, just make it hurt,” Carson says with a nod. “Got it.”
Carson is the scariest of the group, and that’s saying something because we’re all powerful, mean men. I wouldn’t want to fuck with any of them.
But in addition to the casino he runs, Carson is an assassin. That’s his favorite thing to do. He’s the biggest of us, and I’ve seen him tear men apart with his bare hands, without breaking a sweat.
Scary motherfucker.
Mateo, the fourth of us, nods solemnly. He runs weapons and drugs and cleans his money through our legitimate businesses.
He also has the shortest temper, which again, is saying a lot.
I push into the cell, leading the group, and find my son strung up by his wrists to the ceiling. He’s in handcuffs, which are attached to hooks.
And he’s a blubbering mess.
I love my son, but I hate the man he’s become.
Slowly, I shove my hands in my pockets and stride over to where Elliott hangs. No one has dared touch him, so there are no wounds, no bruises.
“Dad, there’s been a mistake.”
I slap him across the face with an open hand, humiliating him more than hurting him.
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
Elliott sniffles, and when he turns his gaze at me, his eyes are full of hate and malice.
The blubbering was a show, which I knew. I know my kid.
“I think you’re going soft,” he replies coldly. “And I can’t wait to take over the organization and run this city the way it should be run.”
Carson growls behind me, and as Elliott’s gaze flicks to him, a little fear slips through.
“You’re under the impression that you’ll be inheriting my empire,” I say as I calmly stroll away from him to the tool bench. There are knives, shears, pliers, saws, drills, tire irons, and many other tools that we use to hurt men much stronger than my boy.
Mateo prefers fire.
Carson? Well, whatever’s handy is fine with him.
Rome is similar to Carson, but has a thing for an axe.
Me? I like knives.
So, I grab a little paring knife. It’s small, but sharp as hell, and Elliott will think that I’m going easy on him.
And I am.
But not nearly as easy as he thinks.
“He thinks I’m soft,” I say to Mateo as I walk past him.
“I suspect he’s about to learn differently,” Mateo says with a sinister smile.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m your son.” There’s still so much confidence in his voice. “You’re not going to kill me.”
“There are so many things that can happen to you worse than death,” I inform him. “Maybe it’s my fault that I didn’t show you more of this side of the business.”
“You haven’t shown me shit,” Elliott spits out.
“That’s the thing. If you want to be a part of the business, you fucking earn it.
You don’t strut all over my fucking city and put the family in danger.
You do not make it seem like the Kings of Vegas are weak.
I will protect my organization, my brothers, and my fucking livelihood at all costs, even if that means disinheriting and punishing my own son. You’re not an exception, Elliott.”
I slash a short line down his outer thigh, just enough to hurt like fuck, but not make him bleed out, and listen to him scream in pain.
Carson grins.
Crazy fucker.
“You’ll never be the next in line, Elliott. Jack will take over if anything happens to me.”
“It’s mine,” Elliott hisses, and I take the knife to his arm this time. Just a small two inch cut, but the blood beads up and runs down into his armpit and over his ribs.
“Your behavior makes me look weak to my enemies, and you’ve tested my patience for the last fucking time.” I toss the knife aside, take off my suit coat and roll my sleeves. “You’ve hurt Natasha after I gave you the order to leave her alone.”
Elliott snarls, and I turn and land a punch in his gut, sending him swinging on the chains.
“I GAVE YOU A FUCKING ORDER!”
I hit him again and again, seeing Natasha, so perfect and scared, and I throw punches until my hands are sore and my arms sing from the exertion. Until his face is swollen and he’s sweaty, and Mateo grabs my arm.
“No killing him,” he reminds me.
“Stop,” Elliott wheezes out through his swollen jaw. “Please.”
“Take him to the cell in my building,” I instruct Jack, who nods once, always so stoic. But I can see the anger and disappointment in his eyes as he stares at my son. Jack was there the day Elliott was born. He’s known him all his life. “He’ll stay there for at least a week. One meal a day.”
“No,” Elliott says.
“Yes.” I stand eye to eye with him. “You’re going to learn that I’m the one in control, Elliott. I’m the only one with the power, and I’m a scary motherfucker. Eventually, you’ll yield to me. I’ll see you in a week.”
With that, I turn and grab my coat and follow the others out of the room.
“I need some whiskey,” I mutter to Rome.
“I’ve got you,” he says. “What about your alliance with Ivanov? Isn’t Elliott supposed to marry the Bratva daughter in three days?”
Two days now.
“Leave that to me.”
“I have to go hunt a guy down,” Carson says. “Call me if you need me.”
“Thanks for coming. Sorry I did all the work myself.”
Carson grins. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Elliott’s needed a beating for a while.”
“Everyone thinks my kid’s an asshole. Good to know.”
Mateo claps his hand on my shoulder. “Elliott is an asshole. I have to go too.”
He leaves right behind Carson, and Rome and I get into the elevator and ride it up to Rome’s penthouse.
“He is no longer welcome in my club,” Rome says simply.
“Obviously. I’ll pay Miranda well as an apology.”
When we walk inside, we stutter to a stop and take in the scene before us.
All three women are in the kitchen, eating a platter of cannoli—fuck, those look good—and laughing.
Natasha is laughing.
Her face is lit up, and fuck me, it’s stunning. I’ve hardly seen her smile before this. Listening to her laugh is like music.
But when she spots me, she sobers and lowers the cannoli to a plate as she casts her eyes to the floor.
No. I want her smile back.
“I’m glad you three are having fun,” I say as Rome walks around the island to hug his wife.
“I should go home,” Natasha says. She’s still wrapped in the blanket. “All of my things are at home.”
I don’t want her going back there. I don’t want to risk that her asshole father will lay hands on her again.
“I have clothes for you,” Lulu says, and dashes up the stairs to the primary bedroom. “I’ll be right back!”
“Oh, I can just use this blanket.”
“I think your family will ask questions if you do that,” Rome reminds her, and her face drains of color.
“Why don’t you come to my penthouse with me for the night,” I offer.
“No.” She shakes her head, and her hands tremble as she pushes her hair over her shoulder. She looks like she’s on the verge of a panic attack. “My father would—”
“Okay, we’ll get you home. Wear Lulu’s clothes, and if anyone asks, you fell into the pool, and your dress got ruined.”
She blinks in surprise. “Oh, that could work.”
“It’ll work.”
Just a few more days, and then she’ll never have to go back there.
Lulu shows Natasha to the bathroom where she can change her clothes, and Rome watches me from the other side of the kitchen.
“You’re going to marry her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
The fucker smirks. “You didn’t have to. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“It’s a business transaction.” And I’ll keep telling myself that.
“Right.”
“I’m ready.”
I turn at the sound of her voice and almost swallow my tongue. Lulu’s clothes are just a little big on Natasha, but she looks adorable in the leggings and oversize T-shirt.
“That’s better,” I reply. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”