24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
10 YEARS EARLIER
DECLAN
A ll weekend I bring Vivian to and from work, and when I get her home in the morning I follow her inside. But it’s just to make sure she makes it safely. Bailey has been home each and every time, so we haven’t been alone again, which is awful, and my cock is totally unhappy about it.
When I pick her up for class today, I assure him that tonight I will try to seal the deal again. As long as Vivian is okay with it. My palm isn’t doing it for me anymore. Now that I have been inside Vivian’s tight pussy, I cannot think of anything else. And my distraction hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“What’s wrong with you?” Slade demands as I miss the entrance to the bar we’re going to check on together.
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I growl back at him. But the truth is I’d been thinking of the sounds Vivian made when she came on my mouth the other night.
“Fuck that,” he says, studying me for a few seconds. Suddenly his eyes light up. “You got a chick, don’t you?” he asks excitedly.
I shrug, not affirming one way or the other, and Slade starts bouncing in his seat and squealing like a teenager who just won tickets to a boy band concert. I heave out an aggravated sigh as a warning, but he can’t hear me over his excitement.
“Who is she?” he demands as we pull into the parking lot.
I kill the engine and ignore my brother, getting out of my car and slamming the door. I am in a foul mood, and his needling is not making it better. I’d heard my father in another heated phone exchange this morning, and again I confronted him, but he brushed me off. Then he fell down the stairs on his way out to take Roman to school, which led us to fighting while we tried to pretend we weren’t because Roman was front and center. I’d taken Roman to school, and when I came back my father was gone.
My saving grace in trying to handle that and all the other shit happening around us is focusing on Vivian and what I am going to do to her tonight. But in seeking a distraction, it brings the annoyance of Slade.
“Are you ignoring me?” he demands, hustling to catch up with me as I head in to the bar, to do what we came to take care of.
“Drop it, Slade,” I grind out to him.
“Oh!” Slade shouts and jumps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. “Is it the girl whose door you fixed with Dad?” he asks, bouncing on his feet like a boxer.
I glower at my brother and mentally get more pissed at my father. Those two are like a couple of fucking teenagers sharing stories.
“Oh, it is! You look like you want to hit me! It totally is,” he exclaims when he realizes he has pieced it all together.
“Slade, drop it,” I tell him, moving around him.
“Can we meet her?” he asks behind me.
I pull open the door of Moonshine and enter, scanning the room quickly. It’s busy for early evening on a weekday, but Slade has been tweaking the menu and playing on social media and it seems to be working to his advantage. I’d have asked him more about it, but I don’t actually want to talk to him right now. Besides, we came here to handle a problem.
Slade walks in front of me now that we are inside. This is his place so he takes the lead. He nods to the bartenders and smiles at the waitress as we make our way to the back of the space, passing a bouncer on our way into the speakeasy-like door.
That’s what we call it—the speakeasy. It has no sign, because we don’t want to draw unwanted attention to it since it’s an illegal backroom gaming hall.
We have five other illegal gambling spots, but this one is the only one with tables, not machines like the others. It’s a test spot that we are trying out. It has been going really well, but there is always someone who can ruin the fun, and that’s who we are coming to see tonight.
“Which one,” I ask from behind Slade, and he angles his head at a guy sitting at the bar. We approach as a unit.
“Mr. Lions?” Slade asks, extending his hand, a warm smile on his face. “I’m Slade Falco and this is my brother, Declan Falco. We are the proprietors of this establishment. I’ve heard about you.”
Slade is so smooth that every person that encounters him when he lays it on thinks they are receiving a blessing. The motherfucker could slit your throat and do it with so much finesse that you would thank him for it.
And as expected, Mr. Lions eats up Slade’s greeting. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Falco,” Lions says.
“Please come with me. I’d like to show you our new high rollers area,” Slade says, sweeping his arm down a hallway.
Lions’s face lights up; he is reveling in the attention, and he stands, making his way down the hallway. “Right through this door,” Slade says, opening a door on the right of the hallway, with two security guards on the side of it. Lions turns to go in but the room is dark, so he stops, then a hand appears from inside and pulls him in, hard.
Slade and I walk in behind Lions, shut the door, then turn the light on. It’s a closet with a single bulb, and Lions is currently being held by his throat against the wall by Axel.
Lions’s eyes pitch around the space in wide-eyed panic. He should be worried. He’s stolen from us, and that is not something he is going to get away with.
“Mr. Lions, I’d like to introduce you to Axel, another of my brothers,” Slade says, resting his hand on Axel’s shoulders, “but it seems you two have already become acquainted.”
“What the fuck,” Lions has the nerve to choke out, and I pull a gun out and put it to his temple.
“You speak when we tell you to,” I tell him, and Lions freezes, his eyes sliding to the side to eye the gun.
Slade continues like I’ve said nothing. “Mr. Lions, you have been quite the patron of our establishment as of late, and I couldn’t help but notice that we seem to be making large payouts to you. See, I know sometimes luck runs good, but generally gambling doesn’t do that kind of shit over and over again, you know?” Slade’s voice is still light and friendly as he speaks. “So I got really curious about it, you see.”
Slade nods at Axel and me, and we back off, Axel releasing his choke hold and me holstering my gun. Lions falls to the floor, gasping for air, and Slade grabs his arm, helping him up. “Please have a seat,” Slade says, assisting him gingerly to a folding chair.
Once he is seated, Lions looks at us, his eyes wide, his racing pulse visible in his neck.
“So Mr. Lions, I have to know, why are you stealing from us?” Slade asks, his tone still friendly, full of faux concern.
“I-I’m not. I haven’t.”
Slade nods, taking the answer in, and then pulls his phone out and shows a video of Lions putting his hand up on a table near his cards and then angling his head to listen. It’s clear the motherfucker is sending a video of the cards to someone and getting info into an earpiece.
Without warning, Slade grabs his arm and shakes it until a pen camera falls out of it. “Would you look at that?” Slade says, crouching to pick up the camera. Then he looks up at Lions and shakes his head. “Jerry, Jerry, Jerry,” he says, mock disappointment in his voice. “You lied.”
Slade drops the camera and stomps on it then punches Lions in the nose in one fluid motion. My brother has the PR of business down. And it always trips people up. They relax around him, and they don’t see his crazy until it’s too late.
Now Slade has his crazy way out in the open for Lions to see.
Blood sprays all over Slade’s white shirt and Lions screams like a bitch. Slade grabs his hair and rips his head back. “Shut your fucking mouth, you stupid piece of shit,” Slade growls in his face. At his demand, Lions clams up, still sniveling.
Slade releases his head and turns away from him, inspecting his shirt, and Lions glowers at him. I take my gun out and slam it across his face, making a satisfying crack. “You fucking look at my brother like that again and it will be the last fucking thing you do,” I yell at him.
Slade waits until I am back at the wall before he speaks again. “Mr. Lions, based on my calculations, you owe my fine establishment seventy-three thousand dollars,” Slade informs the man. “But man, that’s such a weird fucking number, and I hate weird numbers, you know? So let’s just round up and call it a hundred thousand, shall we?”
Tears are streaming down Lions’s cheek as he watches Slade pace in front of him. Suddenly Slade stops and is back in Lions’s face, pulling his hair back yet again. “I want my money by the end of next week. That’s ten days. Do you have any questions?” Lions nods, and Slade says, “Speak.”
“W-what if I don’t get the money?”
Slade releases his head and mulls the question over for a minute. “See, I’m more of an in-the-moment guy,” he explains, “and ultimately it will be my father’s decision. He’s more of a planner, so we will cross that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, here is my card. Should you have the money early and would like to give it to me, that would be lovely,” Slade says, his tone all friendly once again. “And here,” he says, producing another business card, “is a card for Gamblers Anonymous, because buddy, you suck at this shit. So you gotta find a different way.”
Slade tucks the cards into Lions’s shirt pocket and then pats them. Axel knocks on the door and it opens, and two of our guys come in and heave Lions up and out.
“He got blood on my new shirt,” Slade complains.
“You did good,” I tell him gruffly. It isn’t always the most fun thing to do, but to keep things running smoothly and free of assholes, you have to be rough. If you go soft, word gets out. And Lions doesn’t know it, but Axel will be watching him now, just in case the motherfucker tries anything stupid, like leaving town. I check my watch and see I have very little time to get Vivian and make it to class. “Can you take him home?” I ask Axel, and he gives me a nod and we tap knuckles. I do the same with Slade.
As I am leaving out the door, I hear Slade ask Axel, “Hey, did you know he has a girl?”