41. Candy
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CANDY
T he room is silent for a moment, the men in shock or awe of me, I’m not sure.
“What the fuck is happening in there?” Atlas growls through the comms, clearly pissed with the direction our mission has taken. “Candy, stand down. We didn’t agree to you playing a bigger role.”
Sorry, Prez. But I need to do this, to save the mission and show Cú Sidhe he has no power over me anymore.
Our undercover crew is putting on a show, but I’m no longer acting. My biker is putting himself and everyone at risk. It’s my job as his partner to remind him of who I am to him and how I’ll do what I must keep to him safe, even if I need to bring him to his knees to get him under control.
My warning tone brings Butch back to the moment, sensing I’m bringing him to heel. He scowls at Cú Sidhe , regretfully releasing him with a shove, pushing him further away from me.
Hooking two of my fingers at Butch, I order him, “Come to me.”
“Holy fuck,” Ziggy mutters in disbelief to himself, his voice picked up over the comms. His eyes swivel between me and Butch, waiting to see if Butch will obey me. He’s the only one who knows the closeted relationship we have. And I’m sure he realizes me forcing Butch into submitting is a potential issue for my biker.
Whether Butch is following my lead for the mission or obeying my command, he comes right to my side as I instructed.
There’s a point to be made to Cú Sidhe. He no longer has control of me. I’m the one with all the control. Butch may resent me later pulling my domme card, but we can always explain our actions away, that we were playing a role to show I was no longer a sub for Cú Sidhe to punish.
Forgive me, Butch.
Holding eye contact with my protective biker, I point to the floor between us. “Kneel.”
There’s a flicker of resistance in his gaze, pausing only a moment before sinking to one knee before me.
Thank fuck he’s listening.
With all eyes on the two of us, I run my fingers over Butch’s cropped hair, down his neck, coming to a rest at his scar.
“So protective,” I muse aloud, my voice nearly a purr of appreciation. When I’m certain I have Butch’s undivided attention, I turn my head to look at Cú Sidhe . “Forgive him. My sub is quick to react with my safety.”
His murky blue eyes snap to mine, widening with surprise. “Sub? He’s your sub?”
Ignoring Cú Sidhe, I pat Butch on the shoulder—my actions towards my biker will speak louder in my dominance than my words. “On your feet.”
Butch obeys. However, he looks too pissed to be done. The veins at Butch’s temples are popping out against his flesh, like he’s preparing to launch himself at Cú Sidhe again. I cup his scruffy cheek, making him focus on me instead. He softens a degree at my touch.
“Behave.”
We stare at each other, me practically screaming at him telepathically not to do anything rash, jeopardizing what we’re here to accomplish.
When I sense Butch won’t attack him, I look back at Cú Sidhe . I’m sure it chaps his ass how I don’t jump to answer him, something I’m more than happy to rub in his face.
“Must I repeat myself? Yes, he’s my sub.”
Cú Sidhe eyes Piero with skepticism. “And what about your relationship with your partner?”
Feigning irritation, I huff, “Piero doesn’t mind. Nor do I need his permission for anything in my private life. After all, we’re not romantic partners—we’re business associates.”
My enemy raises a light brown eyebrow. “Oh?”
His cynicism is clear in his tone. I need to sell him on this lie— fast .
With my chin held high, I look at the two men. “Signore Bianchi and I make a great team. He wants to run a flesh trade business and has the funds, and I know how to run the business from an insider’s perspective.”
“Is that so?” Cú Sidhe questions, his eyes fleeting between me to Piero and back to me.
Shrugging one shoulder, I fake a smile. “Who better to go into the human trafficking business with than someone who has first-hand experience with it?”
“Leslie’s history gives her a unique perspective to the venture,” Piero adds, backing me up as he improvises on the spot.
Cú Sidhe’s eyes narrow with scrutiny, like he’s trying to determine if we’re lying to him. He steps forward, his head cocked as he studies my face for any telltale signs of deceit.
Butch looks ready to draw his gun when Cú Sidhe inches closer, only an arms-length away from me again.
Possibly sensing Butch is about to lose it if Cú Sidhe doesn’t back off, Piero wraps a protective arm around my waist. He pulls me tight to his side and out of reach of my enemy, all the while sporting a smug smile on his face .
My former abuser doesn’t miss the movement, his eyes honing in on Piero’s hand at my waist. His eyes tighten for a moment before his face morphs into a forced smile. “What an interesting partnership.”
“ Sì , it is,” Piero agrees.
My former abuser eyes Piero with interest, his head cocking slightly. “How did you two establish this arrangement if Leslie was no longer under your cousin’s care? He told me she ran off.”
Asshole refuses to address this question to me, still seeing me as less than a person.
Before Piero can answer, I take over the conversation.
“Run off? Please. I was Lorenzo’s most dedicated worker in the brothel. His clients adored me, requested me, some even wanting to buy me off him.”
I mention the last part, knowing Cú Sidhe was among many who tried to acquire me from Lorenzo. It gives creditability to the story I’m weaving.
“I never ran. Lorenzo pulled me from the brothel and set me up in my own place. He saw the effect I had over the other women in the club, how they would do as told with little protest. I was good for his business, and he wanted to see what I could do with the business if I was running it.”
“Like a madam,” Piero adds, as if we’ve had this conversation planned.
This web I’m spinning seems to be catching prey. Cú Sidhe’s forehead wrinkles, like he’s contemplating the legitimacy of my words. His questioning eyes meet mine. I keep my back ramrod straight, and my facial expressions are apathetic.
Whatever he sees on my face must sell the deal. He smirks at me, his eyes full of amusement. “That fíochmhar . He probably guessed I would forever hound him if I knew he still had you.”
“Ah,” I shrug, acting indifferent, “you win some, you lose some. After Piero took over for Lorenzo, he saw the same potential in me. We’ve been partners ever since.”
“As I said, Candy brings great insight into the industry. One few in this trade have,” Piero says, lying smoothly. He sips his whiskey before setting it down, eyeing Cú Sidhe.
“What you see with her is what you get, unlike what I see with you, Mister…” Piero pauses, waiting for Cú Sidhe to provide his real name.
Cú Sidhe says nothing, ignoring Piero, opting to stare at me with such intensity I nearly shrink in on myself— almost .
Piero doesn’t wait long before giving me his arm. “Come, Candy. I won’t communicate with people I don’t know and must refer to them through aliases.
“O’Conall. Finn O’Conall,” he says, revealing his identity.
“Wolf,” Butch growls out the interpretation, staring him down in challenge.
O’Conall shrugs, with a smirk. “That I am.”
Piero’s lips turn down, unamused. “Mister O’Conall, your identity still doesn’t explain why you’re in my private box.” He swings his attention to Duffy. “You need to remove your guest or I will.”
O’Conall throws his head back like Piero’s words are comical. It’s the kind of sinister laugh you’d expect from the villain in a horror movie, setting your nerves on end. It suits him.
After a few seconds, O’Conall collects himself. He smiles, showing his teeth as he waves his hand between himself, Piero, and Duffy. “Not possible, considering I’m a partner in this business arrangement.”
It all makes sense. There’s no way this operation could have survived long-term with Duffy at the helm, not with the boneheaded business decisions he’s made. The two Irish men are business partners. Our team’s earlier suspicion that Duffy was only the frontman and not the mastermind behind the sex ring is legit. And I bet my fake boobs O’Conall is the brains behind the whole operation.
The urge to head-palm myself is strong. How could I not see this earlier? Duffy and O’Conall were always together when talking business with Lorenzo, whether it was at Bianchi’s brothel or at this auction house. They shared me. Why not share a business, too ?
“Hope you manage this business better than you manage your partner,” Piero chastises O’Conall.
Duffy frowns at Piero’s slight but says nothing, possibly suspecting he’d be forced to eat a bullet for talking back to the don.
“Rest assured, Signore Bianchi. I have everything…” O’Conall turns his murky gaze on me, “…under control.”
Unable to help myself, I snort. He’s delulu if he thinks he’s in control of anything, especially me.
O’Conall raises his eyebrow. “You doubt me, mo pheata ?”
Feeling braver than I should in given company, I roll my eyes with exaggerated intensity, enough to ruffle the asshole’s feathers some more. “My name is Candy. Don’t make me repeat it. You will not like the outcome.”
Improvising on the spot, I grab the cheese knife from the charcuterie board and hold it against Butch’s neck. He stiffens but holds still, somehow knowing this is all part of the act. My biker knows I would never hurt him.
Using the knife like a makeshift razor, I glide it over Butch’s long neck. The hair stubble around his throat makes a scratching sound against the steel as I rest the blade below his scar, bringing it to everyone’s attention.
“This is what happens to those who step out of line with me. They lose their voice, if not their head.”
O’Conall’s eyes widen, almost like he’s impressed by my violent ways—fake or not.
“Goddamn!” Punk chuckles through the line. “Candy goes for the balls.”
“Shut up and focus,” Gauge chastises him through the comms.
Removing the knife from my lover’s neck, I lean in to lay a gentle kiss where the blade had been. Butch shivers, a low hum of pleasure in his throat. “Good boy.”
I pull away from my man, tossing the knife back on the spread of food, where it clatters on the table. All the men jump a bit, seemingly on edge with my little power play demonstration. I cross my arms under my chest, sashaying closer to my enemy with a fake smile on my face.
O’Conall’s lips quirk upward in the corners. He’s possibly enjoying this ballsy side of me, or he likes the idea of what he’ll do to punish me for being aggressively bold toward him—it could be either or both with him.
When I’m in front of him, I drop my smile, replacing it with a challenging stare before I continue.
“And two, I sure as shit doubt you. Seventy percent of the revenue of Denver sales going to my partner? Ha! Who the hell puts Duffy in charge of negotiating business deals? An incompetent fool, that’s who.”
My last remark strikes a nerve in my abusers. O’Conall flinches like I’ve slapped him while Duffy’s shoulders slump, making him appear smaller than he already is.
“I made the best arrangement considering we’re dealing with Signore Bianchi,” Duffy sputters heatedly, his ego clearly bruised.
Rolling my eyes, I clip, “Please. You barely negotiated.”
“We were caught red-handed poaching in his city,” Duffy whines, trying to defend his horrible negotiating skills. “We wanted to create an alliance, not a feud.”
“What is this ‘we’ shite ?” O’Conall confronts his friend with a vicious sneer, his lips pulling back from his teeth. “I was never consulted on the hunting grounds or the business bargain you cooked up. Listen to me for once. Bite. Your. Tongue.”
Duffy looks between me, Piero, and O’Conall. Embarrassed, his face turns from red to burgundy. “It was a fair trade. What does she know? She turned tricks, and suddenly she’s the expert?”
Butch’s jaw cracks under the pressure of clenching his teeth. With one ‘ Don’t you dare’ look from me, he stills, glowering but obedient.
Wanting to put Duffy in his place, I hold up my palm in front of me. “Be for real. I’m not arguing with a guy I’m taller than. ”
His red face puckers like he sucked on a lemon as he sputters. “You—you—you?—”
Butch moves in, stopping when I hold up my hand, not bothering to face him this time. This is one fight I need to dominate without backup. My words always have been my sharpest weapon, cutting down one’s self-assurance.
“For Christ’s sake, spit it out already. Do you need my help to come up with insults, too, like you need help in this business? Bitch. Whore. Take your pick,” I taunt with a little laugh, watching Duffy lose his ever-loving mind.
“Whatever abusive remarks you hurl at me, I’ve heard it all before. Sticks and stones. Your words have no power over me. They never did.”
The leprechaun-looking bastard’s fingers turn into claws in front of him, like he’s getting ready to wring my neck.
O’Conall lays a steady hand on his partner’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the meat of him to halt him in place. “She is not yours to discipline.”
Not yours to discipline. Those words nearly cripple my confidence. It doesn’t take a genius to read between the lines. O’Conall means I’m his to discipline.
Over my dead body. I’d shit in both hands and clap before giving him the gratification of seeing me scared again. I internally stomp my foot, stubbornly refusing to show my cards to these disgusting assholes.
“You’ve got ’em against the ropes, Candy. Push them so we can get this show on the road,” Atlas orders through the comms.
No problem. Pushing buttons is my specialty.
Owning my part, I turn on my heels, sashaying back to Piero. Once in front of him, I walk my fingers up the lapel of his suit, giving him my best flirty smile. “Piero, dear. Must we go through these unseasoned channels? These two could screw up a wet dream if left unsupervised. You already know I’m more than capable of running our own ring. ”
Duffy makes a choking sound, probably worried he’s fucked them out of a profitable business arrangement. I don’t turn to see, but I can feel O’Conall’s eyes burning a hole in my back. Keeping my expression flirty, I smile smugly at the don.
“Hmm,” Piero muses, tapping his chin like he’s considering my offer. “You have an eye for the operation.”
“After watching how these women are tossed about by the guards the previous times I’ve attended these auctions, it’s clear these two fools don’t have a real handle on the merchandise .” Ignoring the distaste for their choice of verbiage, I continue. “The women need someone who can relate to them, understand their fears and calm them into submission. I’m what you need if you want your product to remain unmarred. Damaged goods don’t bring high profits.”
O’Conall releases a slight snort, finding something I say interesting. Did I say too much, giveaway a weakness? Not knowing makes me a little nervous, but I press on.
“With me running things, it’ll put more money in your pocket. Guaranteed.”
Piero puckers his lips in contemplation before giving me a grin. “More money is the goal.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Duffy quips, pushing his way between us. “Let’s not be making any rash decisions. Yeah, I made some stupid calls—that’s on me, not Mister O’Conall. Trust me, sir. He would have handled the situation differently. But I’m the face of this operation, a gamble I do to earn the trust of our buyers, while Mister O’Conall works all the magic behind the scene.”
Piero raises an eyebrow at O’Conall. “Is this true, O’Conall? You manage the flesh trade operation?”
O’Conall nods, his face severe. “I do.”
Chase chuckles through the comms. “Gotta love it when they tell on themselves.”
“Makes it so much easier for the district attorney to charge them,” Gauge agrees in a pleased tone.
Duffy turns his pleading beady eyes back to Piero. “ Please, Signore Bianchi. Don’t hold my blunders against the business. Let our work speak for itself. Stay for the auction. See the quality of the merchandise for yourself. The bidding will be through the roof, I assure you. You won’t want to start a competing sex ring from the ground up once you see us work our magic.”
“Waste of time,” I say dismissively, waving away the creep. “Piero is not a man to be bothered with juveniles parading around as men, pretending to know what they’re doing. He needs reliable business ventures.”
My last comment is enough to earn a scoff from O’Conall. He moves into our bubble, going toe-to-toe with Piero while staring me down.
“As my business associate said, let our work speak for us,” O’Conall grits through clenched teeth.
Pausing for dramatics, Piero rubs at his chin before looking at the two pricks in the room. “I’m willing to watch you two in real time. But I warn you, I don’t appreciate being dicked around. Hide anything else from me, and I’ll set Candy on you with whatever knife she fancies.”
Piero reclaims his seat, letting Duffy and O’Conall know the time for talk is over. He snaps his fingers. “Chop. Chop. I don’t have all evening.”
Duffy hustles from the room, rushing to get the show on the road.
O’Conall doesn’t move. His lips quirk upward, his eyes roaming all over me like a perv in heat.
Slowly, he backs away as he says, “Knife play—I like it. I think you’ll enjoy working with us as much as I look forward to getting to know this new version of you.”