Chapter 1
She had been in her silver Beamer sitting at a traffic light in midtown just a few blocks away from Times Square when Diego from the Brass Mirror called her in complete dismay.
He had been running the club on behalf of the O’Reilly family for the past seven years. For the most part, he knew his place, how to handle the elite clientele, and how to resolve any disruptions to the services rendered there.
So, when there was panic laced in his voice and his words stuttering, she was quick to believe him when he told her that shit was hitting the fan at the exclusive VIP underground gambling club. Also, a good indication was the sound of crashing and shattering glass in the background. Doesn’t sound very lucky for a place named after a mirror, does it?
After hauling ass downtown, she parked in the underground garage. Layne got out of her car and rounded to the trunk where she rummaged around for some tools of the trade. She opted for the wooden baseball bat that had rolled to the back of the compartment.
Layne could use a little stress relief today, and whatever was going on inside was likely going to give her the chance to find a healthier outlet by comparison to other available options. Relatively speaking, of course.
As she anxiously awaited inside the elevator to arrive at the designated floor, she texted Liam:
Layne
Handling business at the Mirror.
S.O.S. received from Diego.
Standby.
Liam
Whatever, I’m busy.
Shut it all down if you have to.
I don’t give a fuck.
She drew in an attempt at a therapeutically deep breath at Liam’s indifference. Layne tucked her phone away and reassessed the grip on the wooden bat in her hand. She couldn’t focus on Liam’s inability to cope with problems right now, she needed to get her head in the game.
When the doors of the elevator slid open, the bland and undecorated hallway was quiet. She stalked to the end of the hall where a twin set of glossy black doors were. After punching in the master security code to allow her access, she cautiously pulled a door open to slip inside.
The Brass Mirror was just beyond the entrance. The walls were painted gold with black accents, and red velvet chairs should have been perfectly positioned at various table setups across the space. The decor was sickeningly pretentious and it matched the filthy rich bastards that maintained membership here to carelessly sling their funds around.
When Layne walked in, tables and chairs were in utter disarray. Poker chips were spread on the floor like New Year’s Eve confetti. Multiple mirrors were in pieces around the perimeter of the room superstitiously racking up decades of bad luck.
Grown-ass men were wrangling with one another, while some pieces of arm candy were shrieking incessantly. She cringed at the high-pitched wails adding to the soundtrack of violence and destruction.
“Here we go,” Layne muttered to herself. She rotated her wrist getting a feel for the weight of the bat in her hand with a single rotation, ready to wield it where necessary.
She stomped toward the first set of grappling men, doubled up her grip on the handle, and wound up. Unleashing her swing on the back of one man’s knees it instantly dropped him to the ground.
One for the money.
It left the other man in shock, only to be greeted with her backhanded swing connecting underneath his chin. The sickening cracking of bone and shattering teeth should have bothered her, but today was not that day.
Two for the show.
Layne saw the second man drop like a fly while howling in pain as blood poured from his mouth. She pointed the tip of the bat at the first man who was already propping himself up on one knee. “Stay.” The threat of an additional strike loomed on that single word spoken.
She looked across the room and saw Diego in an altercation with a man wielding an empty beer bottle. “For fucks’ sake, Diego,” she cursed under her breath before navigating through the strewn-about furniture.
“Alan! Let’s talk this through!” Diego spinelessly raised his hands defensively trying to avoid getting assaulted by an empty bottle.
It took Layne one swing to smack the bottle from the attacker’s grasp, sending the empty brown container towards the wall where the sound of its shattering echoed across the room. She didn’t hesitate to follow up with a second strike right to his gut, and a final third to his back as he doubled over in pain. He fell flat onto the floor.
Three to get ready.
Resting the bat against the front of her shoulder, she let Diego feel the anger in her gaze that she had to come down here to clean this shit up. With one hand on her hip, she scolded him. “You told me you ramped up security. What the hell happened?”
Diego opened his mouth to spout some insufficient apology, but from behind her, a hand grabbed onto the top of her bloodied bat while a large bicep wrapped around her throat snatching the midpoint of the piece of lumber and yanking her back.
The length of the bat pressed to her throat forced her back into the brick wall of a man behind her. Her hands latched back onto the bat pushing forward and away to relieve the pressure against her neck. Layne swung her body to the side pushing one end of the bat up allowing enough of a gap to squeeze out of the tight space.
Spinning around she pulled out the small but mighty Glock, pulling the trigger for the money shot between the eyes. The bang filled the air and everything went still. Her victim dropped to the floor with a thud, and his hand released her bat.
Four, motherfucker, let’s go.
The pistol was tucked back into the holster in the back of her pants.
The wooden weapon rolled slowly across the floor towards her until she stopped it with the tip of her boot. She reached down and picked it up, only to hear a pair of hands giving slow and deliberate claps.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Looking over her shoulder to see who was finding entertainment in the violent scene that had just unfolded, she was surprised to find a man who was clean-cut from head to toe. He had jet-black hair on the longer side but kept into a neat style away from his face. He had chillingly blue eyes that could either melt you down to your core or pierce straight through your heart. He stood at barely six feet tall, and his presence had an elegant command to it. If one had to guess, he appeared to be just over the cusp of forty.
The attire he had on indicated he had money—lots of it. The suit appeared to be custom and tailored to each cut of his sleek musculature.
She completed her turn to face him, noticing he was standing only three feet away. This stranger may have been amused, but she wasn’t finding the situation nearly as captivating. “Enjoy the show?” Her voice was not the least bit friendly.
Ignoring her question, the man snapped his fingers. The first two men she encountered, Alan, and any pieces of arm candy that hadn’t already fled for the exit, all nodded in acknowledgment of the silent instruction they were given. They scurried from the confines of the Brass Mirror.
Finally, the stranger spoke with a silky but firm tone. “Diego, you are also dismissed. See my man outside for your payment for your inconveniences here.”
Diego shamefully avoided eye contact with Layne as he rushed out of the room. She gritted her teeth angrily that he had been manipulated by another party at play here.
“Don’t blame him, I made an offer he couldn’t—” the man chuckled. “Well, you know the saying.”
Warily, she shifted her eyes onto the man, her hand still firmly latched onto the handle of the baseball bat.
“Forgive me, and allow me to introduce myself. I’m Eric Ellis. Your new neighbor, if you will.” He extended his hand out to her.
The name sounded vaguely familiar to her which should have been an enormous red flag, but new players were always coming and going in this line of work. Sometimes they proved themselves worthy enough to be a force to be reckoned with. Other times? They tightened their own noose and jumped from the platform.
While there wasn’t some sort of monthly criminal newsletter that got distributed, Layne had heard about the new guy in town. He had snatched up a swanky corner lot and fully renovated the industrial building to convert it into a residence. It was the Upper East Side’s biggest topic of conversation amongst the wealthy. What she hadn’t heard was what else he had his hands in.
Layne shoved his extended hand away with the tip of her bat. “I’m not your welcoming committee.”
The strength of his hand grasped onto the bat and roughly tugged her forward towards him. When he snaked an arm around her, his hold was like a boa constrictor, ready to squeeze the life out of her lungs.
“Now, that’s not being very friendly, is it?” He smirked as he let his eyes wander over the features of her face.
Not showing any signs of distress, she stared into the handsome face of her self-proclaimed new neighbor. “I’m not a very friendly type of girl.”
He grinned, bringing his mouth lower to her ear so he could whisper his words. “So I’ve heard.”
Before she could snap back, he released her and stepped away to give her space. Eric walked behind the unattended bar and lifted a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, inspecting it. “I’m not here to start any wars. Instead, I figured I’d get creative in capturing your attention. How did I do?”
Still not willing to part with her bat, she watched his every move wondering what game he was playing. “If you were looking to piss me off, you’re off to a great start.”
He chuckled quietly to himself as he poured himself a drink from the expensive whiskey, he nodded at an empty chair on the other side of the bar. “Please, take a seat. I won’t bite.” He paused and with a debonaire smile, said, “Unless you ask very nicely.”
“I prefer to stand.” Stepping over a broken chair she approached the bar, still on high alert.
“Suit yourself.” When he took the first sip from the glass, he reveled in the taste dancing across his taste buds finishing with a slow moan of delight.
Using the bat, she laid it across the wrist of his hand holding the glass, preventing him from taking another sip. “What is it that you’re here for?”
Not making an effort to remove the baseball bat lying across his wrist, he chose to focus all of his attention on her. “A business proposition.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t do business with people who come in and poach my employees and destroy my property.”
Eric switched the short-statured glass into his other hand as he moved away from the threat of her current weapon of choice. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I had to see for myself what I was potentially getting into. You didn’t disappoint. Actually, I am rather impressed. The stories about you hardly do you any justice.”
Growing tired of the banter, she contemplated just disposing of him entirely, but that’s when he gave a click of his tongue and shook his head.
“Ah, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to try and take my life just yet. You will want to hear what I’m going to lay out on the bargaining table.”
She blinked a few times in surprise at how easily he just read her. “Then, make your point of why you’re here and make it quickly, I don’t have all damn day for this bullshit.”
Resting one hand on the edge of the bar and leaning against it, he smiled as though he had been waiting for this very moment to answer her. “A merger. You and I. We combine our efforts and organizations, and it creates an unstoppable alliance. Right now, the O’Reilly business operations are struggling and are on the brink of collapse. After the passing of your father, which by the way you do have my deepest condolences, things have not been smooth sailing, have they? Your brother, Liam, is proving to be rather incapable of navigating the stressors of leadership and is leaving it all on your shoulders.”
“We are getting by just fine, but thanks for the concern.” Immediately she was on the defensive as he began to verbally offend the way she and Liam had been handling things. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but Layne was working on coming up with ways to improve operations while Liam got his shit together.
Another sip of the whiskey had him licking the flavor from his lips. “Ah, ah, ah. Are you being honest with yourself, Layne? Don’t you even know what I can offer you?”
She rolled her eyes, figuring he was going to try and tell her whether she wanted to know or not.
Taking her lack of protest as permission to proceed he continued, “After Michael Franzetti did his vanishing act, I’ve been picking up pieces here and there and turning lumps of coal into diamonds. With the right training and mindset, I have been able to salvage a handful of Franzetti’s little worker bees. Not to mention my growing collection of assets. If you and I were to unite, I could promise you a world where you would never have to worry about cleaning up others’ messes. Including your brother’s.”
Gradually she was lowering her bat as her arm got tired of being at full tension while listening to him pitch himself. “Yeah, no thanks. Now, get the fuck out.”
Leaving his partially drunk glass of whiskey behind, he came up to her. “I’m not looking for an answer right now. All I’m asking is to keep this conversation going. That’s all. I want to help you salvage what’s left of your father’s legacy and turn it into something greater. He’d want that, wouldn’t he?”
“Don’t talk like you knew him.” Her jaw tensed as she thought about how her dad might be rolling over in his grave seeing the state of affairs everything was in right now.
Eric slowly reached out to hold her chin gently with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m not looking to be the villain in your story. I’m just trying to help us both get what we want.”
Layne jerked her face away from his subtle intimate touch. “What’s in it for you?”
His lips curved into a proud smile. “What a smart girl you are. I don’t have the history and clout with some of the other major top dogs across the city to pull enough weight to successfully execute my vision for my home base of operations here. The O’Reilly name is well known. If everyone knows we are working hand-in-hand, it would make both of our lives much easier. If I had your support, I could provide for an extraordinarily comfortable existence in whichever way you would prefer it.”
“Let me get this straight, you want me to help you by using my connections to get you in the door with other contacts while you iron out the wrinkles in the way we are currently doing things?” It sounded far too simple to Layne. Easy ways out just didn’t fall from the sky.
He grinned. “Something like that.”
“Something like that, or just like that?” She knew the devil was in the details.
Eric put on the same smile that all the politicians used to pitch their false promises. “Let’s make a deal here, huh? We can discuss the details further, but in the meantime let’s see if this could be a happy little alliance, hm? You can still be the force that you’ve always been while fulfilling your father’s final wishes to settle down with a man to provide for you, and your family’s business will get the support and direction it requires to thrive.”
It all sounded far too good to be true, except the settling down part. When anyone approaches you with a deal out of the blue, the chances of them being a snake oil salesman are almost always a certainty. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask. As a peace offering and show of good faith, I will send my crew here to clean up the mess. Things will be back to fully operational by tomorrow evening.”
“If they’re not, I will personally ensure that you will be wishing you were in his shoes.” She warned as she motioned at the dead guy behind her.
He chuckled, despite she had made it quite clear she was being serious. “My little harpy, I promise you that there will be no such need.”
Eric’s hand reached out to stroke the side of her cheek in an affectionate gesture. Layne snatched his wrist tightly, preventing him from touching her face again. Her emerald eyes were full of nothing but cold and emptiness.
He gave a sharp tug on his hand causing Layne to stumble forward two steps closer to him. He ran his tongue over his lips before displaying a smirk across his mouth. “One day, you’ll be begging for the soft touch of my hand.”
Disgusted by the look in his eyes as he watched her, Layne released his wrist and backed away. “That’s one bet I wouldn’t make if I were you.”
He gave a casual shrug and walked over to the two front doors, pulling one open to make his exit. Eric paused before he fully passed through it, he looked back over his shoulder at Layne. “The odds are better than you think.”
He left Layne there alone in the disastrous-looking Brass Mirror.
Looking across the room at her reflection in one of the few remaining intact mirrors, a person was standing there that she didn’t even recognize. Layne took hold of her bat and unleashed the bottled-up fury inside of her, taking it out on anything in her path.
A series of liquor bottles were smashed, leaving behind a river of mixed spirits along the back shelves. A framed abstract painting was another casualty of her rage-fueled assault. Layne continued to take swings at anything that pissed her off.
The final blow was tossing the entire baseball bat itself at a full-length mirror shattering it into an infinite amount of shards. The asshole could pay for that, too.
Layne stood there alone with only the sounds of her heavy breaths, hating how tired she felt with the shit cards she was always being dealt these days.