Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Malice
Moments had passed, but I was still staring down at my phone, another amused huff slipping from me.
She was interesting, that was certain. Not only did she seem to spit rainbows and sunshine, but she’d had the audacity to put me in my place.
No one had ever dared to do that before.
It irritated me, yet I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her attitude.
She had a sugar-sweet voice that many men would have dropped to their knees for. Fuck that, I wanted her to fall to her knees when I commanded it.
My interest was definitely piqued. But since I had no idea who this woman really was, I could be talking out of my ass when it came to her. I guess I’d eventually find out during our future interactions.
When Blaze mentioned he had a friend who could easily help me find the fuckwits who’d stolen from me, I never would’ve guessed it’d be someone who sounded like her.
Hell, that wasn’t all. It was rare to find a woman working in the underworld, let alone one as fascinating as her.
Consider me riveted by what this doll could possibly do for me.
It was probably for the best that my last, and most recent, computer technician died—for trying to sell information about my life—and I had to find someone quickly for this problem.
A deep rumble of laughter drew me from my thoughts. I glared at my cousin Emilio, or more commonly known as Torment, my underboss. He’d been quietly snickering on and off since her first words had come through the phone.
“Well, spank me silly. I could listen to you talk all night long.”
Who said shit like that?
She did seem surprised when it’d come from her mouth, as she’d quickly moved on.
When Torment’s laughter died down once again, he said with clear amusement, “I can’t believe she hung up on you.” The idiot laughed again.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, but the ass just kept chuckling to himself.
Rolling my eyes, I stood from my office chair and repositioned my .
45 ACP semi-automatic pistol in my waist holster before putting my phone back in my pocket.
I moved over to the window and looked down over the dance floor of my club with my arms crossed.
Torment sat close by on the couch with his arms stretched out along the back.
His laughter tapered off as he met my hard gaze, though he still had a smirk on his face.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut.”
“Torment,” I grumbled.
He rolled his eyes. “I won’t say anything,” he finally replied without humor.
“Good.”
“She sure is an interesting one,” he commented.
That was a fucking understatement.
People feared me, yet it seemed she didn’t. Fascinating. There was also a darker side of me that wanted to drive fear into her and have her tremble before me.
“Do you think she’ll be able to find them both?” Torment questioned.
“I fuckin’ hope so. She seems confident, and Blaze did say she was the best.”
“Hmm, yeah.”
Glancing over to the clock above the door, I saw it was nearing half past midnight. “I guess I’ll find out later. For now, we have other business to deal with. I’m sure we’ve kept Robert and his spawn stewing long enough.”
The duo ran several of the laundromats I oversaw around town, using them as a front to move drugs, but they’d fucked up.
Torment snorted. “Considering the meeting was set for ten thirty, yeah, probs.”
I shot him a sly grin, knowing the men would be beyond stressed.
As Torment moved over to the door, I quickly went back to my desk to check the camera footage, making sure everything was running smoothly downstairs.
No doubt, Brix, known as Reaper, would have everything in control.
He was my quiet lieutenant, who didn’t stand for any bullshit. Much like myself, but he was more bloodthirsty than I.
Other than Torment, I trusted Reaper, even though he wasn’t a blood relative, over anyone else in my organization.
We’d met just over a decade ago when I was young and dumb and had made some foolish mistakes. Like leaving the house without backup and getting drunk. I’d been ambushed by a group of thugs who’d wanted to intimidate my father, since he’d still been around and in charge.
Brix entered the fight with such viciousness that he left most of them needing the hospital. He then helped me home, and I’d introduced him to my father, who was quick to appoint Brix as my personal protection.
Years later, we’d come to ruthlessly run the family corporation as Malice, Torment, and Reaper—the most feared men around town.
After I turned off the computer, I moved toward the door where Torment casually stood with hands in pockets. He stepped out before I did, in case someone was stupid enough to be lurking. Though, that was unlikely, since the hallway had its own security system.
In this life, added protection was a necessity. The security in my life became more intricate after my father was gunned down in his own office.
I’d been away for the weekend when the building had been ambushed by a group of mercenaries, killing everyone on site. My father never stood a chance because he didn’t have enough safety precautions on the building. That mistake cost him his life.
My mother had come to me wanting vengeance for the man she loved.
She needn’t have asked. My rage had already been boiling, and it hadn’t taken me long to figure out who was responsible.
There’d been another family trying to step up and take our place, so Torment, Reaper, and I were the ones to end them all.
My father had been a hard man, but at times he’d been understanding too. But only with his wife and children.
Honestly, those motherfuckers had been fools to think they could get away with ending my father’s life while I was alive.
Now, I ruled mercilessly. If anyone tried to hurt me or what was mine, they suffered slowly before dying a painful death.
Once we reached the meeting room in the basement, I opened the door to see Robert and Daniel Lium sitting on the other side of the table, facing us. Their irritation was thick. Daniel almost vibrated with it.
He stood abruptly before slamming his fists onto the table with a loud bang. “The meeting was supposed to be hours ago. We’re sick of waiting.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited with cold eyes.
“Son, shut up,” Robert quickly interjected, sensing my anger.
“But—”
“Fucking quiet,” Robert barked. He yanked Daniel back down into the seat.
At least one of them was smart enough to read the malicious intent in my gaze.
I reached for my gun, pulled it free, and tapped it on my thigh as I moved closer and sat opposite them.
I rested the gun on the table, finger still on the trigger.
“If you ever think about slamming your filthy fuckin’ fists onto my table again, I’ll cut them off and mail them to your dearest mother.
I wonder how her faint heart will handle it when she opens the box. ”
Daniel went to open his mouth, but Robert slapped his hand down on his son’s arm and gripped tightly. “He’ll apologize. He means no harm, Malice. I promise. Do you, son?”
Daniel’s jaw clenched, but then he said, “Yeah, sorry.”
Leaning back, I moved my gun to the side and then clasped my hands together in front of me. “We’ll begin, then.”
“Right.” Robert nodded. “So, what is it you need from us, Malice?” Robert asked.
“Matthew Taylor and Roman Stevenson—”
“It was all Daniel!” Robert screamed.
Daniel gaped at his father, then spluttered, “Dad.”
Robert shook his head. “No, I’m not getting dragged into this mess.
It was him, Malice. The other night, I saw him out back of the laundromat on Main Street with the two men you’re asking about.
And when I counted the product the following night, we were short.
I didn’t want to believe it was my stupid son.
But now I have no other choice.” He slouched, paling before he whispered, “I’m sorry. ”
Daniel pushed his chair back, standing and yelling down at his father. “Fuck you, Dad.” He turned to me. “It was only a tiny amount. I didn’t think it would matter. There’s still plenty left.”
My body burned with anger; I couldn’t believe what an imbecile he was. It was obvious he hadn’t thought twice about the repercussions for fucking with my merchandise.
Standing, I swiftly picked up my gun and fired. The sharp crack vibrated around us. For a split second, there was nothing but ringing before a scream, sharp and uncontrolled, filled the room as Daniel clutched his upper arm.
God, I loved the sound of pain-filled cries.
Looking over at Torment, I ordered, “Get me the cleaver.”
“What? No, no. Please no!” Daniel begged, backing up to the wall behind him.
His father dropped his head in his hands, shoulders shaking and jerking as he cried.
But he didn’t say anything to stop me, not wanting to risk his own life.
With a crazed cackle, Torment turned and unlocked the glass cabinet before he grabbed a cleaver off the weapons wall stationed at the side of the room. His grin widened while he walked it over to me. As soon as he handed it over, I nodded toward Daniel. “Hold his hand out on the table.”
Torment rushed the begging and sobbing guy. Daniel didn’t put up a fight as my underboss dragged him back over. Only when Torment took hold of Daniel’s hand did he try to pull it free.
“Please, don’t. Please. I won’t do it again. I’ll never do it again. I’ll get the money for it. I promise.” Snot and tears ran down his face, wet with congestion and broken cries as he struggled against Torment’s viselike grip.
Robert’s whimpers grew louder.
Torment drew his head back and threw it forward, headbutting Daniel. It made a thick, ugly sound as Daniel cried out in pain, but the move lessened his fighting, and a dark patch spread across the front of his denim jeans.
He’d pissed himself.
Fucking disgusting.
I screwed my nose up as the stench filled the room.
“Did you honestly think I’d stand by and allow this to happen?” I asked.