2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Henny
A ggressively loud techno music rattled the thin walls of my bedroom as intensely as it rattled my skull. Fucking Jericho. My dumb ass roommate. He was lucky he was one of my best friends, which essentially gave him a free pass for everything, but man, did I want to kick his ass. My hands grappled under and around the pillow until coming into contact with the hard edge of my phone. Pulling it free, I squinted at the time and groaned. Six. O’fucking. Clock. Jericho was a dead man. I stumbled across the room, kicking dirty laundry out of my path, before ripping the door open and storming into the living room to lower the volume on the speaker system.
“What the actual fuck, Jer?”
“Rise and shine. Oh, nevermind.” He eyed me up and down. “Already risen. Not quite shining. Cover that shit up, we don't have time.”
He waved a hand at my groin and I dropped my gaze in response. Whatever, morning wood was morning wood. “It ain't ‘cause of you. Don't flatter yourself.”
“Henny, your dick gets hard in a stiff breeze. Trust me, I know the deal. Now seriously, get dressed. It's Monday. You do remember, right?”
“Oh, fuck.” I spun in place and retreated to my room again. I'd forgotten. The music made a lot more sense now.
I found Jericho’s dog King standing in the middle of my bed with a pair of my dirty boxer briefs in his mouth. This damn German Shepherd was responsible for the destruction of more undergarments than I could count. He was such a gross animal and his obsession was the cause of way more arguments than anything else between me and Jer.
“No. Bad dog. Drop!” I approached slowly as the beast dropped his front half and wagged his tail. “I said drop it!”
Just before I reached the bed, my sweet boy jumped in to save the day. Twenty pounds of calico Maine Coon launched through the air with a hellish yowl that was the reason for his name—Lucifer. In the blink of an eye, he batted King’s muzzle between his paws and sent the pansy ass dog sprinting from the room with a pathetic whimper. If anyone on the street knew the infamous attack dog was a complete chicken shit over a cat, we’d be the laughingstock of the underworld. Good thing he only acted this anxious in the comfort of home.
“That's my good Lucy,” I crooned, reaching out to stroke his long fur. The asshole whirled around and bit me. It was a love-hate relationship I adored. Laughing under my breath, I dug around in my closet for something appropriate to wear. Slim pickings meant I was overdue for laundry day, but I managed to rustle up a pair of distressed black denim jeans and a mesh tank top. The sports coat added just enough class to the ensemble to hopefully pass muster. I might have forgotten about the big meeting today, but that didn't mean I wasn't eager to make a decent impression. The cards were stacked against me as it was.
To be frank, the idea was likely to blow up brighter than fireworks on the Fourth of July, but my skin prickled into goosebumps nevertheless. I'd always had a massive crush on my best friend’s older brother. Unfortunately, Marco d’Ambrosio hated me ten times more than he despised his little brother and since there was no love lost between them on a good day, this was going to be interesting. Honestly, I think I wanted him as badly as I did because he hated me. Yeah, pretty fucked up, but I liked what I liked.
I finger-combed my hair into a semblance of order in the small mirror over my dresser and added a healthy dose of spray deodorant to finish it off. Bracelets, rings, watch, chain necklace, and my Glock rounded out the accessories. With my wallet and phone in hand, I returned to the shared living room in time to find Jericho getting the dog geared up. Jericho had a thing for leather. I also had a thing for leather, which is why we hooked up way more often than roommates should have. Fuck, I hooked up with all my friends more than I should. No shame in my game.
I wolf whistled and leaned against the doorframe. “Nice ass, fucker.”
“I know.” He smacked the left cheek of his leather-clad ass with a smirk. “Too bad you're stuck in your ways.”
I laughed and gave a quick appraisal of his appearance. The pants, the chunky boots, the weathered jacket, and his driving gloves were all black leather. The shirt was the only anomaly—charcoal grey button-down satin. His shaggy black hair and fawn colored skin shone in contrast. It was a good look.
He situated the last buckle on King’s muzzle and attached the leash to the spiked collar before swiping his keys from the table beside the door. I stepped in and did the same. My car was parked under the d’Ambrosio building. We’d need the whole convoy for our adventure today.
“Do you want to grab coffee or maybe, I don't know, brush your teeth first?” Jer eyed me with a smirk.
“Shit, right.” His reminder triggered my bladder’s protest and I scurried to the shared bathroom with a laugh. I was a little more hungover than I realized, evidently.
Once I ran through everything I needed to do in the bathroom, we finally managed to hit the road. Technically, we were running behind schedule, but I wasn't worried. Not with Jericho behind the wheel of his souped up street racing vehicle. We all had hobbies, I guess. I liked to party and sleep around. Jericho liked to modify cars and take part in illegal street racing. As soon as he started the car, the low rumble of the engine reverberated in my chest and had me grinning like an idiot.
“Anything coming up for this beauty?” I slapped the dashboard and earned myself a wicked glare for it.
“Maybe. I’m waiting for the text. Why, you want to tag along again?” He deftly navigated the low-riding vehicle into the street and the car quickly picked up speed, smooth as butter.
“Fuck yeah. Maybe we can drag our new boss along.”
“Ha! Marco at a meet. That’ll be the day.” Jericho flexed his hands on the steering wheel and settled into the bucket seat with a grin. “Dead ass, that man never smiles.”
“He really doesn't. Instead of betting on your next race, we should bet on how long it takes for him to kill one of us.” I reached up and grabbed hold of the oh-shit-grip as a clear stretch of road appeared in front of us. I knew what open road meant when riding with Jer.
“You mean kill you? Marc’s got a target on your back that’s visible from the space station.” As expected, the car picked up more and more speed over the few blocks of traffic-free pavement. With a squeal, it rapidly decelerated as we drew up on a stoplight. The belt dug into my chest and forced a grunt from my throat. My knuckles were white on the handhold as the car stopped with a jerk and barely an inch between the front bumper and the vehicle ahead of us.
“No clue why, either.” My other hand reached out to brace against the dashboard as the open acceleration turned into bobbing and weaving recklessly between slower cars. Jericho beamed like a little kid over the thrill of dangerous driving. Meanwhile, I was glad for the fact that I emptied my bladder before climbing into the passenger seat.
“Maybe you should ask.” Snickering, he darted around a taxi and blew through the intersection as the light turned from yellow to red.
“No thanks. I'll pass. I don't actually want to die.”
“Fair. I'm still pissed that you get to be the driver.”
“Jer, how many traffic tickets have the d’Ambrosio family gotten you out of? This really shouldn't come as a surprise. They aren’t about to let you and your lead foot be responsible for one of their little princes.” My body rolled in the seat as we banked a hard left. “Fucking slow down, Jesus.”
“Shut up, you're fine.”
I glanced into the backseat and met the beady eyes of the muzzled German Shepherd. The beast was secured in a three-point harness that put our standard seat belts to shame. Judging by the intensely concentrated expression on the dog’s face, I was the minority vote in convincing my friend to drive at a normal speed.
Not surprising in the least, we pulled into the underground garage with time to spare. It was one small benefit to riding with Jericho, even if it likely took a few years off my life expectancy every time. A few of the other guys were already here, but I sighed under my breath when I realized Gianluca wouldn't be joining today. We’d worked together for so many years, but now that he’d gone and gotten himself hitched, we saw less and less of him on the streets. As much as I liked to chill with him and his husband, I missed the thrills of our old routine.
“Poncho! Gramps! How the hell are you?” I jumped out of the car and advanced on the two guys leaning against one of the SUVs. Gramps got his nickname because he was the oldest of the group by five years. Poncho because… well, he always wore a gaudy old poncho in faded green, white, pink, and black. We weren't very creative with nicknames. Mine came from a love of Hennessy, after all. Ironically, Jericho was the only one without a nickname, but that was because Jericho was the name he chose for himself. None of us even knew his legal name.
“Henny, my man. Big day.” Poncho clasped my hand and pulled it to his chest in a quick hug-slash-back-slap. Gramps repeated the greeting and the cycle began again with Jericho.
“Interesting day at the very least. You boys ready to head to Brooklyn town?”
“Ready as we'll ever be. Which is never. You strapped?” Poncho flipped his poncho over his shoulder to show off his piece. I shook my head and laughed at the comical gesture.
“Of course. When am I not?”
“When you're ass up, slut.” Gramps shoved my shoulder with a cackle. “Which is like, most of the time.”
“Fuck off, you're just jealous.” I pushed him back while grinning ear to ear. He was not wrong.
Another car rolled up, but they didn't get out. It was Molly and Big Red. Yes, named after the party drug and the chewing gum, respectively.
“Hey, fuckers!” Molly rolled down the driver’s side window of the Caddy and leaned out. “Red and I are riding together.”
“Dibs on shotgun in Jer’s ride!” Gramps jerked his chin toward the car I had just gotten out of.
“I'm with them,” added Poncho.
Fucking assholes. I glowered at them all and folded my arms over my chest. “You're seriously bailing on me? I thought we were friends.”
“Yeah, we are. Friends help friends. Which is why you will be dealing with Marco for us. Take one for the team, Henny. You're always eager to volunteer as tribute.” Poncho grinned, turning to the side to bend over and stick his ass out. “Y’know what'm sayin’?”
“Fuck off, all of you.”
Jericho slid up behind me with a slow grind, his palm pressed flat to my stomach. “Don’t be sour. You know you love it.”
I writhed against his hold and tried to pull away, but he simply tightened his grip. Suddenly, the dark, moody underground garage was thumping with heavy bass and a fast tempo beat as Molly turned up the sound system in his car. Jericho’s bump and grind took on the rhythm before he pushed me away—straight into Gramps’ hold.
“Henny's always willing and eager. Why not now, Princess?” Gramps spun me in place and before I could react, I was catching myself with my palms on the hood of the Caddy. Laughter and cheering erupted as Gramps made a show of dry-humping my ass. Under any other circumstances, I would have been fair game for the fuckery, but I was hungover, anxious, and yeah… a little hurt. All told, the playful teasing wasn't hitting right this morning.
“Get the fuck off, G.” I pushed back, fast and hard, to send him stumbling backward. I whirled on them all with a scowl. “I'm not in the mood. This isn't some routine thing. This isn't collections or cruising and we aren't at the fucking club. On top of that, you fucking assholes are sticking me with the biggest fucking douche on the planet. Alone. Mr. I hate the world and everyone in it, stuck up, holier than thou Prince Fucking Marco. So fuck all of you. Get your shit together and have some fucking pity on me because my day is about to suck.”
My gaze darted from face to face and I was taken aback by the stunned, fearful expressions all around me. No one ever listened to me, let alone responded seriously. I puffed my chest a little as pride swelled in my heart. Serves them right—
“Good morning, gentlemen.” The ominous click of dress shoes I could never afford echoed through the garage as the music disappeared in a flash. “By all means, Brandon , please continue. That was quite an impassioned speech.”
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, with a side of oh fuck . I slowly turned to face the chiseled stone sneer of my new boss. His gaze slid over my body like smooth silk, from top to bottom and back again. His sneer turned into a scowl of disgust. It stood out in contrast to his smooth, slick hair, his gorgeous sea green eyes, his perfectly pressed suit, and his rich olive complexion. He was absolutely gorgeous. He also hated my guts with the fiery intensity of a thousand suns.
“Oh… hey…” I resisted the urge to shrink into the shadows and puffed my chest even more. “Lookin’ good, hot stuff.”
He prowled toward me with a glint of murder in his eyes. The unmistakable cool indifference of someone who's taken a life and wouldn't hesitate to do it again. Showing no signs of stopping, he pressed forward and forced me backward until my ass hit the hood of the Caddy and my palms thunked against the metal with a loud bang.
“Prince. Fucking. Marco.” He loomed closer, hovering as my pulse kicked up a notch. It was the single most confusing moment in recent history. Fear mingled with arousal as his gaze bored into mine. “I like the sound of that. Do me a favor—keep your fucking mouth shut unless spoken to. Seven is a very unlucky number for a crew and I have no qualms with culling the herd. Starting with the weakest link.”
I stifled a sharp intake of breath as he grasped my jaw, jerked my body upright, and flung me toward the SUV. “Get in.”
Everyone scattered as I stumbled to catch my footing. My heart skittered erratically. My palms were drenched in sweat. My dick was rock hard in my jeans. Holy fuck, this was going to be a long day. Despite knowing better, I scowled as I slung myself into the driver’s seat, muttering under my breath the entire way.
“What a fucking asshole.”