18. Threats and Traitors #2
I set my barely-touched scotch on a passing waiter’s tray and make my way toward the exit, careful to maintain an unhurried pace. The security team barely glances at me as I leave. Their focus is drawn to whatever situation Francesca’s handling inside.
The night air hits my face like a splash of cold water, clearing away the stuffy atmosphere of wealth and hidden agendas.
My truck’s exactly where I left it, a deliberate choice of vehicle that wouldn’t attract notice—not too cheap to raise eyebrows at a gathering like this, not flashy enough to be memorable.
As I slide behind the wheel, my first instinct is to call Naomi, tell her I’m on my way home. But I can’t. I still have business to deal with.
Zeke and the others are waiting for me at the club, and they aren’t going to like what I have to tell them.
The city lights of Columbus blur past my window as I navigate back toward Club Velvet Petal, my mind racing to organize the intelligence gathered. Each piece forms part of a larger puzzle I need to present coherently to Zeke.
Fuck , I’m getting too old for this cloak-and-dagger shit.
The sustained vigilance required to maintain my calm demeanor at Francesca’s event has left me mentally drained. Only thoughts of returning to the cabin—to Naomi—keep me focused on completing this final task of the night.
Naomi. Just her name alone sends a surge of longing through my body. I adjust myself in my seat, forcing my attention back to the road and the business at hand. Personal indulgence must wait.
The club’s neon sign casts a purple glow across the nearly full back lot as I park in my usual spot.
Music pulses from inside—the bass heavy and sensual.
Another packed night from the looks of it.
Good for business, but it means navigating a gauntlet of writhing bodies to reach Zeke’s office.
Not ideal when I’m already fighting exhaustion.
Inside, the dance floor is stuffed with intertwined bodies, skin gleaming with sweat under strobe lights.
The air is thick with perfume, alcohol, and desire.
On any other night, I’d appreciate the primal energy of it all.
Tonight, it only intensifies my desire to complete this debrief and get back to Hocking Hills.
What I wouldn’t do to already be balls-deep inside Naomi’s sweet, tight pussy.
A drunk woman stumbles into my path, her glazed eyes lighting up with interest as she takes in my size. Before she can speak, I step smoothly around her, maintaining my purposeful stride toward the back stairs.
Zeke’s office provides immediate relief from the chaos below.
The sound-dampening system muffles the club’s pounding rhythm to a distant heartbeat.
Eli and Seb are already present, their expressions expectant as I enter.
Zeke himself stands behind his desk, every inch the commander awaiting field intelligence.
“Well?” Zeke’s asks.
I sit, gathering my thoughts. “Francesca’s more dangerous than we anticipated. She’s combining old-school brutality with modern business acumen. The guest list tonight included three state senators, multiple tech entrepreneurs, and what looked like most of Columbus’s legitimate business community.”
“Buying influence,” Seb interjects, his usual playful demeanor subdued.
“Successfully,” I confirm. “But that’s not our biggest immediate concern. Every family was there by invitation except us.”
“Fuck,” Zeke mumbles.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Remember that Gallagher lieutenant? Dark hair, late twenties, drinking like he’s trying to pickle himself?”
Eli’s eyes narrow. “Michael Sullivan?”
“That’s the one. Kid got drunk enough to start blabbing about the gambling night attack. Felt like he knew more than he should. Francesca interrupted before I could question him further. Her interruption felt deliberate.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. We’ve suspected a leak since the attack, but confirmation still stings. Betrayal always does.
“You’re certain?” Zeke’s voice remains steady, but I catch the dangerous undercurrent.
“He knew enough that it made me pause. And he said we almost had you.”
Seb pushes away from the wall he’s been leaning against. “Want me to pay Michael a visit?”
“Not yet.” Zeke’s response is quick and firm. “We need to know if he’s working alone or if the whole Gallagher operation is compromised. Micah, what was Francesca’s reaction when Sullivan started running his mouth?”
“She shut him down fast—too fast. Like she didn’t want him revealing specific information. But she didn’t seem surprised by his knowledge.”
“Suggesting coordination and prior knowledge,” Eli concludes.
I nod. “My read is she’s been cultivating assets within multiple families. Building a network of malcontents and opportunists who might be useful when she makes her move.”
“And now she’s seen you at her gathering,” Zeke says. “How did she play that?”
I fill them in on the conversation, articulating the subtle dynamics of our interaction. “She’s taking my measure. Probably wondering if I might be turned.”
Zeke’s eyebrows rise. “Turned?”
“Think about it—I’m your enforcer, your right hand in many ways. If she could flip me, it would be a significant coup. Destabilize our operation while strengthening hers.”
“She clearly doesn’t know you very well,” Seb remarks with a hint of his usual humor.
“No,” I agree, “but she’s smart enough to recognize the potential value. I’d bet good money she starts making overtures soon. Probably through intermediaries at first, testing the waters.”
Zeke absorbs this information with characteristic intensity. I can almost see the strategic calculations running behind his eyes. Finally, he nods decisively.
“This could work in our favor. If she’s focusing recruitment efforts on you, it might blind her to other moves we make. We’ll need to be careful though—she’s not someone to underestimate.”
“No.” My mind flashes to the calculated intelligence in Francesca’s dark eyes. “She’s playing a long game. Building alliances, gathering intelligence, positioning pieces. When she finally moves, it’ll be comprehensive.”
“Then we need to be ready,” Zeke says with authority. “Eli, start discrete surveillance on Sullivan. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to. Seb, reach out to your contacts in the other families. See who else might be vulnerable to Francesca’s recruitment efforts.”
They nod, accepting their assignments without question. The hierarchy we’ve built works because each person knows their role and executes it with precision.
“Micah.” Zeke turns his attention back to me. “If Francesca really wants to turn you against me, we need to control the narrative. Let’s keep Francesca wondering where you are. I don’t want her finding you before we’re ready for that conversation.”
“Got it. Let me know what you need me to do next.”
“I will.” He squeezes my shoulder. “We need to cut her off before this goes too far.”
With the meeting concluded and our assignments give, I leave the club, heading toward my truck and the road that will take me back to Hocking Hills. Only then, do I allow myself to acknowledge the anticipation building within me.
Not just relief from escaping the tensions of Columbus, but genuine eagerness to see Naomi again.
The drive toward Hocking Hills passes in a blur of dark roads and scattered thoughts. My mind keeps circling back to this morning and how fucking good it felt to have Naomi’s warm pussy wrapped around my cock.
The memory of her responses to my praise, the way she blooms under my dominance, creates a hunger for our emotional connection.
Dangerous territory, old man.
The warning echoes in my head, but it feels hollow now. I passed the point of no return days ago, perhaps the moment I found her huddled in my apartment, covered in Lucas’s blood.
Everything since then—every shared meal, every lingering glance, every moment of passion discovered—has only deepened a connection I neither sought nor expected.