Chapter 3
DUCHESS
Spring was ending in New York City, and the air had started to shift, carrying that heavier warmth that clung to your skin and warned you that the summer months weren’t far behind.
The wind swept across downtown weaving between the honking traffic, impatient drivers, and of course, the sidewalks packed shoulder to shoulder with suits heading home after a busy day.
The sun was setting in the distance and as we sat down to enjoy our meal the familiar scent of baked pizza dough, rich tomato sauce, mixed with the fine smell of hot asphalt and exhaust fumes that filled the air.
We took a table outside the Italian restaurant on the corner, close enough to Violent Delights that I could keep the front entrance in my line of sight without ever having to turn my head, because habits like mine didn’t fade just because I decided to sit down for a meal and pretend, even for a moment, that I could relax.
The place was familiar to us with its dark wooden tables worn smooth from years of use, wrought iron chairs that scraped softly against the concrete whenever someone shifted, and warm string lights draped overhead that cast a low golden glow across the sidewalk, catching on passing faces.
Roulette, my VP, sat across from me, one leg crossed over the other, her boot tapping once against the pavement in a rhythm that told me her mind was already ten steps ahead of the conversation we hadn’t finished yet.
She’d ordered a pizza and had grease on her fingertips, she didn’t seem to care and I watched as she dragged another slice toward her plate, folding it with practiced ease before taking a bite, her gaze never leaving mine.
“You gonna keep staring at the door,” she said around the mouthful of cheese and crispy dough, her voice seemed casual but we both knew we were on edge, “or you gonna eat?”
“I am eating,” I muttered, picking up my slice, though my attention stayed exactly where it had been.
Today had been a rough one. Shit had been going on lately that had us all watching our backs, but having the Feds knocking on our doors was never pleasant.
“You heard what I said,” she pressed, wiping her fingers with a napkin, leaning forward slightly. “This isn’t random.”
“No,” I said, finally taking a bite. “It’s not.”
“The calling card,” she said, quieter now, her tone tightening slightly. “Same one.”
I nodded once, setting the slice back down, my fingers resting against the edge of the plate.”I know.”
“Someone wants our attention.”
“Well, they got it.”
“Feds were in your office this morning,” she added, watching me carefully.
“Yeah,” I said, leaning back in my chair, letting the memory settle in fully before I spoke again. “Agent Barker.”
Her brow lifted slightly and she smirked. “Of course it was.”
Agent Barker was a frequent flyer within Violent Delights.
We’d met when Violent Delights had first established.
He was working a case and wanted information, we had accommodated the agent, willingly providing what he needed.
I wanted to show that my business had nothing to hide.
It wasn’t long after that, that the Feds decided to use the Delights to gain further intel, only then did we establish a sort of business relationship.
I offered information and lent my club for their dealings, and in return, he’d turn a blind eye to any mention of the Violent Delights.
He’d considered it, and a few days later returned ready to take the offer, although it included his own parameters for the deal.
In exchange, he would also get anything he wanted from our girls, and I had to admit he was one of our best customers.
Respectful, tipped well, and the ladies loved satisfying our favorite agent.
But this morning, he’d walked in just after opening, dressed clean, composed, carrying the weight of a man who knew exactly what he was walking into and didn’t pretend otherwise.
“He came in asking for information.”
“I know,” Roulette nodded.
“But it wasn’t just that,” I continued, my gaze drifting past Roulette for a second before returning to her. “It was the type of information he needed.
“Girl, you better keep talking. What kind of information are we talking about here?” she prompted.
I exhaled slowly. “He asked about our clientele first,” I said. “Recent visitors. Anyone new. Anyone who stood out.” My fingers tapped once against the table. “Then he got more specific.”
“How specific?”
“Names,” I said. “Locations. Men who had been in New York within the last week who might have crossed paths with us.”
Her expression shifted then, just enough to show she understood the weight of that.
“He mentioned the murders, I assume?” she asked.
“He did,” I answered. “Not right away. He circled around it first, tested the waters, made sure I wasn’t going to shut him down before he got to the point.”
“And when he did?”
I held her gaze. “I told him that was the first time I heard about it.”
Roulette leaned back slightly, her jaw tightening. “You’re telling me the Feds are already working a string of murders tied to our signature, and we didn’t hear a damn thing until Agent Barker walked through our front door?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.
I let that sit for a second before continuing.
“He asked about the card,” I said. “Specifically. Wanted to know if it meant anything to me.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“The truth,” I replied, my voice even. “That it’s ours. That it’s always been ours. That we don’t leave it behind unless we want something known.”
Roulette’s eyes sharpened. “And he believed you?”
“He didn’t have a choice,” I said, lifting my glass, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. “But he also didn’t push. Not the way someone would if they thought I was lying.”
“Because he knows you,” she said.
“Because he knows us,” I corrected. “He’s been around long enough to understand how we operate.”
The Harlots had taken care of him and he had returned that in his own way.
“He told me it’s his case,” I added, quieter now. “And he didn’t want to come in blind.”
Roulette tilted her head. “So he warned you.”
“He did more than that,” I said. “He told me he wouldn’t keep me in the dark.”
The silence stretched until Roulette tilted her head and spoke.
“You know it’s got Lantana’s MO all over it,” Roulette said finally, her voice cutting through the noise.
My gaze snapped to hers,“Bullshit. I trust Lantana with my fucking life.”
And I meant it. Lantana’s mother and I had known each other since high school. I knew that girl’s upbringing, her family. She was tough, and although she may not have gotten along with everyone, she was loyal.
Roulette didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, but she didn’t push further. She knew what that girl meant to me. She was more than a sister, she was blood.
“You know I’m not saying she did it,” she said, calmer now. “I’m saying whoever did knows how she works.”
That… was a different conversation. I leaned against the back of the chair, my mind already running through different scenarios, trying to pull the pieces together. I looked into the distance, needing Roulette to understand where I was coming from.
“Lantana didn’t just decide to have this life,” I said, my voice quieter. “She was brought into it.”
Roulette nodded once. “By Lourdes.”
“By Lourdes,” I confirmed.
Lourdes was Lantana’s mother, and I knew her well.
She’d been one of my closest friends growing up and I’d promised her when I left, that I’d be there if she needed anything.
And she did, more than I could ever imagine.
Lourdes didn’t hand her daughter over blindly, didn’t trust easily, especially not with someone who carried the kind of reputation that I was slowly building for myself.
I think what she wanted was someone to scare her, but I used a different tactic.
Lantana had always been smart but she was getting into trouble with the wrong people, and Lourded wanted her protected. She was searching for some way that Lantana could see her skills, without thinking that she was going to be controlled by what she knew.
My fingers curled slightly against the table. “I promised to watch over her. Keep her grounded.”
Roulette’s lips twitched. “That worked out well.”
“She didn’t need grounding,” I said. “She needed a platform.”
Because Lantana had walked in already carrying something most people spent years trying to learn.
“She had her skills,” I went on. “I didn’t hinder her knowledge. I recognized it, supported her.”
“And you patched her in knowing that she never saw herself in this life,” Roulette said.
“I did,” I replied. “Because she earned it.”
And more than that...
“She would never betray us that way,” I finished, my voice firm, unwavering. “Not like this. This is reckless. She’s grateful for what we’ve done for her, she would never…”
“You sound like a mother in denial…”
“Bullshit! She’s a good girl!”
My gaze drifted back toward the street, toward the door of Violent Delights, where everything we built stood strong and untouched, for now.
“Besides,” I added, quieter, “this is sloppy.”
Roulette nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll agree with you there.”
“I don’t like it,” I said. “Whoever this is… they’re playing games.”
“And not subtle ones,” she added.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers brushing the edge of my glass.
“They’re playing with the wrong women.”
Roulette leaned forward slightly again, her voice dropping. “The question is… why?”
I held her gaze, unblinking. “We’ve made a lot of enemies in our line of work, Roulette.”
And that wasn’t an exaggeration. We didn’t just operate in one world; we moved between them.
The Feds. The black market. People always found us some way or another, and they all needed something one way or another.
We tried to stay off the radar as much as we could because we had to be careful. We couldn’t afford to get greedy.