Chapter Twenty-Four-Angel
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR-ANGEL
I fidget with my phone, glancing at the screen for updates.
Giselle is at her parent’s apartment, checking in on Resa today. Her sister called and told her she and her boyfriend had the flu or some shit.
Koukla is such a fucking sweetheart, she made a big pot of soup herself and insisted on bringing it over.
Warmth rushes through me as I picture her taking care of me like that.
It’s weird. I never had that. But I want it.
I am so fucking obsessed with this woman.
Still, I worry. I was supposed to go with her, but then I got called in for a meeting. I wanted to tell her no. But that would be crazy.
I might be obsessed with the woman, but I’m not crazy. So, instead of me, she took six heavily armed bodyguards with her. My top guys.
It’s the only way I can bear to let her out of my sight. Especially after the news I get at this meeting.
“The aftermath of taking Sanchez down is turning into a problem, Boss,” Luc says.
“How so?” Nico asks.
“Small time players thinking about taking over. They don’t seem to realize it’s ours now,” Luc says.
He’s talking about Ghost. It’s the codename for a Chinese gangster who runs everything from drugs, guns, gambling, and girls from Connecticut to New York City.
He doesn’t have a foothold in Jersey, but he wants one. Mainly, he wants our ports.
Like everybody fucking else.
Criminal organizations like his are like cockroaches around here. You stomp on one, you got a thousand more waiting in the wings.
Luc starts citing off eyewitness reports from our eyes in the field. His guys are pushing their boundaries, taking over turf that ain’t theirs.
The Vipers don’t deal in petty shit anymore. And what we allow, we allow because we have the final say.
We don’t allow trafficking of any kind in our city. As for drugs, well, the best we can do is keep dealers out of schools and parks.
People are gonna do what they want. But some shit is pure poison, and we keep that out of our city.
Every day it seems drug laws are changing. I don’t do them myself. But I don’t judge others.
The Vipers might not be boy scouts, but we are a damn sight better than other motherfuckers out there. Those guys don’t care if their junk is killing people.
“Two people were found dead last night in the alley behind the Iron Cage,” Luc says.
The Iron Cage is a bar about ten minutes away from the Den.
“So what?” I ask, because unfortunately, dead bodies aren’t exactly hard to come by in Jersey City.
“So, they OD’d. They both had empty baggies with a G emblem on them.”
“Fuck,” Nico growls.
“Ghost. It has to be,” I tell them.
No, Ghost hasn’t been a problem for us before, but without Sanchez around, the illegal drug market is down one major player.
It’s possible the Asian gangster thinks he can fill the void.
A thought he is likely to regret.
I am already texting one of my team leaders to scope out the motherfucker’s known haunts.
If Ghost needs a message from the Vipers just to be clear that this town is off limits, he’ll get one.
And soon.
“On it,” I interrupt Luc, and the Council dips his chin.
“Good. Now, let’s talk about our new agreement with Margaret O’Doyle,” Nico says.
“She’s got balls,” Luc replies. “Already she’s dismantled the prostitution ring her sleazebag father was involved in and put those who wanted jobs to work for her.”
“I bet that was shocking for a lot of people,” I say.
“Yeah. She’s really turning that old Irish mob family into a female-strong organization.”
Luc grins. I just grunt. Margaret O’Doyle is smart and daring, but she is young and inexperienced. A lot of folks won’t like what she’s doing.
“How are the boys taking it?” Nico asks, and he’s smirking.
My cousin always liked rooting for an underdog, but if there is one thing I learned in our dealings with the new head of the O’Doyle clan, it’s that Margaret O’Doyle is smarter than people think.
I guess that’s what makes her the perfect dark horse. She’s a twenty-two year-old woman who’s already established she won’t take shit from any man. Not even her pops.
That piece of shit had to go.
But his redheaded firecracker of a daughter coming out as bi and slaughtering half the original members of her old man’s organization?
Well, that’s just sheer audacity. Margaret O’Doyle is ballsy. I will give her that.
By inviting the Vipers to her ascension as head of the O’Doyle clan, she is proving smart.
Very fucking smart.
Because Margaret O’Doyle is telling the whole fucking world who she’s in bed with.
Metaphorically, of course.
None of us are touching anyone but our women ever again. We know it. And for the most part, they know it.
My Koukla needs some assurances, and I’m gonna give them to her. I was planning on it this weekend, but now we have to go to Boston, and I’m hoping she is okay with it.
“Alright, here’s what Ms. O’Doyle is offering us to officially partner up with her,” Luc begins, and yeah, I know I should be paying attention, but I’m not.
My mind is elsewhere. Specifically, it’s back in my condo where I left Giselle this afternoon, all spent and sweaty. Sprawled out across our bed, the sheets in a perfect state of dishevelment at her feet.
Our bed.
Fuck.
I really like the sound of that, but the woman keeps bringing up looking for her own place like she thinks she can’t stay with me.
I want her to.
Can I do that? Can I just keep her?
I mean, I don’t see the problem. But the woman avoids the topic like it’s got cooties.
Even without the sex, and let me tell you, the sex is fucking incredible, we get along. I enjoy talking to her, laughing, watching movies, taking her out, spoiling her. Even cooking together is a good time.
The things that come outta her mouth. Jesus Christ. She is so goddamn delightful. I mean, she thinks about things I never even considered.
She’s smart. Like really smart. Curious about everything. And she is not afraid of a fucking thing.
Not a big oaf like me, that’s for sure.
I like her. I really like her.
Shit.
That sounds stupid. But I think it might be important.
I know Giselle isn’t some stray kitten I picked up off the street. And no matter how badly I want her to stay with me, I am going to have to give her more than I have been.
Shit.
My feelings aren’t something I talk about very often. I mean, I’m the head Enforcer for one of the most formidable gangs in the tri-state area.
I don’t exactly wax poetic on the regular.
But if it means keeping her with me?
I’m willing to try. And isn’t that a fucking stunner?
Of course, we’re beyond attracted to each other. I can’t keep my fucking hands off her, and just thinking about it makes me hard.
Hell, she’s just as insatiable as I am. And it’s sexy as fuck.
“Angel,” Nico interrupts my wayward thoughts, and I flick my gaze to my cousin’s.
Luc’s already left the office, and I didn’t even fucking notice.
“What?” I ask.
“Boston. It’s this weekend.”
Fuck. I forgot all about that.
“This weekend?” I repeat, but I know my cousin didn’t fucking stutter.
“You got a problem with that?” he asks, and the fucker is smirking at me.
“No, Boss. No problem.”
The king can be a real ass sometimes, but no, I don’t have a problem.
I just need my girl to come with and for the weekend to go smoothly.
Easy fucking peasy .