FOURTEEN
P oison woke to the violent buzzing of her cell phone on the nightstand. Fumbling in the dark, she silenced it, then looked over to see if it had woken Scorpion. But the fucker wasn’t next to her. She couldn’t believe he had snuck out again.
Her whole body still smoldered from his touch, and her mind spun. He had ordered food for them and then joined her in the shower. She had half expected another round of mind-blowing sex, but he had been so tender. He had helped wash her hair, gave her toe-curling kisses, but never tried to do more. They had eaten and then fallen asleep on her bed while watching a movie—content just being in each other’s presence.
She glanced at her phone, momentarily confused by the persistent ringing. She forgot it was still vibrating in her hand.
“Skel,” she muttered as she answered, irritation in her voice. “This better be good if you’re calling at two in the morning.”
His response was immediate, urgent. “It is, but not over the phone.”
The tone in his voice sent a jolt through her, wiping away the remnants of sleep. She sat up straight, all traces of fatigue gone. “I’m on my way.”
Without hesitation, she switched on the bedside lamp. The cold reality of Scorpion’s absence struck her again. She cursed under her breath—at him for leaving, at herself for letting him in so easily—and scrambled out of bed.
Rushing to the closet, she tossed her phone onto the bed behind her as she yanked open the door. Her mind raced as she grabbed clothes, though frustration simmered beneath her skin. She cursed again as she pulled on gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, her fingers moving quickly despite the tension in her body.
After slipping on her sneakers and tying her hair into a messy bun, she turned to grab her phone—only to freeze.
A small piece of paper rested on the pillow next to hers. Its edges were crumpled like it had been hurriedly shoved beneath the pillowcase. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at it. For a moment, she didn’t move, a strange dread crawling up her spine.
She hesitated, her mind swirling with questions. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the note, half-afraid of what it might say.
Little Viper,
I hate to leave, but the boss needs me. I’ll pick you up at 7 pm for a proper date. Wear something sexy. I want every man to envy me for having you on my arm.
Stay safe
S
So he might not be as much of an asshole as she initially thought. She smiled, slipped the letter into her dresser drawer, and headed for the door.
Poison burst through the door to Skel’s gym and their regular hangout when they weren’t at the ring—or needed to have a crew meeting.
Her whole crew was waiting for her—each of her soldiers waiting for her in a dimmed atmosphere. She greeted each one by making eye contact and called out, “Evening, everyone.”
They greeted her in unison and stepped closer, forming a circle when Skel approached her.
“Do you have any news on Reaper?” Her heart tried to beat out of her chest.
On her way to the gym, every possible scenario had run through her mind—from Reaper finally challenging her to a death match to losing a member of her family—because that was what her crew was to her. After Jonathan, it was the only family she knew, and she would go to the end of the world to protect every last one of them. Even if she kept them at arm’s length.
“Unfortunately not.” It was Cat who answered, her voice tight.
“Then what is so important that we had to have an emergency meeting?” she asked, scanning the faces of her crew. Each one of them shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. A cold knot of unease formed in her gut. They knew something—something bad. And she was the last to be brought into the loop.
“It’s the Don,” Skel finally spoke, as if saying the words too loudly would make the situation worse. “Poison, it’s serious.”
“The Don and I have an understanding,” she said, narrowing her eyes. Her mind raced through the possible scenarios, but nothing made sense. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Skel hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if he was struggling to find the right words. “You remember your open challenger from Friday?”
Her stomach dropped like a stone, dread slamming into her chest. She kept her voice steady, but it was a struggle. “Spit it out,” she snapped, the tension in the room pressing down on her like a vise. She hated how Skel was dragging this out, making her wait for whatever disaster he was about to lay at her feet.
“He wasn’t just a nomad,” Skel said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “He was the Don’s newest recruit.” He paused, taking a deep breath like he was about to dive into icy water.
“Skeldon, I swear to whatever god it is that you pray to,” she growled, her patience snapping, “I will make you pick up your teeth with broken fingers if you don’t get out with it.”
Skel flinched, but he didn’t hesitate any longer. “His name is Tidal, and he went missing.”
“He’s not missing. He’s dead,” she cut in sharply, her words like a blade. The room fell silent, and she could practically hear her crew’s collective intake of breath. She didn’t care. This wasn’t a time for delicacy.
“How…” Cat’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with shock.
“They rushed him into the hospital with a hole blown through his chest while I was there—on your orders,” Poison emphasized, jabbing a finger in Skel’s direction. “But what does it have to do with us?”
Skel shifted uncomfortably, his face pale. “The Don thinks you’re behind it. The men carrying Tidal from the ring took him straight outside instead of to the infirmary. They have no idea what happened to him. Poison, he thinks you’re looking to start a war with him.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Her mind reeled. This was bad. This was so fucking bad. Why would the Don ever think she would rise against him? The idea was ludicrous, suicidal even. Her loyalty to him had never been in question. Until now.
“I will go and see him tomorrow,” she said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. “I need to clear this with him before things go to shit.”
“I’ll do it,” Skel offered quickly, his concern for her palpable. “I’ll arrange a meeting with him.”
“No,” she shook her head firmly. “He needs to hear it coming from me.”
“You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.
“I am, but why would he think his men would answer to me? Why did they take him outside, and how did they get past Giovanni and Roberto?” She needed answers, and she needed them now. Her mind was spinning, trying to piece together the fragments of this puzzle, but nothing fit.
“They left through a back entrance,” Skel explained, as if even he couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“I didn’t even know there was one,” she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. “I thought it was all rock walls.”
“Apparently, it’s reserved for the Don only. But no one saw anything, and they don’t know where they took him,” Skel added, his frustration evident in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“And the men that took Tidal?” she asked, though she already had a sick feeling she knew the answer.
“They were taken care of,” he replied, his tone dark. Something flashed in his eyes—anger, maybe, or something deeper, something that mirrored the storm brewing inside her.
She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was a setup, a deliberate move to pin her against the Don. Someone was playing a dangerous game, and she was caught in the middle.
“I’ll handle this,” she said. Her crew was looking at her, waiting for her next move. She wouldn’t let them down. She couldn’t. But more than that, she wouldn’t let herself be manipulated like this. Whoever was behind this—whether it was Tidal, the Don, or some other player—would regret pulling her into their mess.
But first, she needed to make sure the Don understood she wasn’t his enemy. Because if he truly believed she was a threat, she’d be dead before she had the chance to set things right.
She knew how much Skeldon hated the Mafia’s way of conducting business. She could see it in his eyes now and he had told her as much the night she ran into this very gym the day they met. A freak thunderstorm had turned the roads into a treacherous river, making it impossible to drive her bike. Seeking shelter, she had seen the door standing agar and slipped inside, and to her surprise, Skel had attacked her.
They had fought until she was able to pin him to the ground, her knee on his throat. He had tapped out, and that was the start of their partnership. Two years after that encounter, she had made him her second.
Drawing her thoughts back to the present, she looked to her crew.
“It will be best for everyone to lay low until I get this sorted out,” Everyone nodded in agreement. “That means no challenges. If another crew is challenging you, by all means. You’re welcome to accept, but we cannot set a challenge. The Don will see this as an advance at him, and I will not have any blood on my hands. Am I clear?”
“Clear,” came the chant from her soldiers, and she nodded, sealing the command.
Turning to Skel, she ordered: “Set up the meeting as early as possible in the morning.”
At nine in the morning, Poison sat on her bike in front of wrought iron gates with six AK-47s pointing in her face.
She hadn’t been able to relax after the meeting, so she stayed at the gym training for about four hours after her crew left. She had only gone home to shower and change her clothes before getting onto her bike and making her way to the Don’s mansion.
She knew the significance of this meeting and its location. The fact that they were meeting at his private residence meant that the Don didn’t see her as a threat. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.
Taking a deep breath to calm the voices in her mind, she removed her helmet and looked at the guards—their barrels aimed at her head, watching her every move.
She placed her helmet on the fuel tank in front of her and leaned her forearms on it, allowing a lazy smile to snake over her lips.
“Good morning, boys,” she said, “Any of y’all interested in buying Girl Scout cookies?”
“You have no business being here, little girl,” spat the guard closest to her.
“Now, how do you know that?” she shot back, her tone laced with sarcasm. “For all you know, I could be a highly sought-after escort, personally requested by the Don to entertain his guests.” She held the guard’s gaze, her eyes gleaming with defiance. “But I suppose you’d rather stick to your dull security duties than enjoy the finer
things in life.”
Her words were sharp, each one meant to provoke, to unsettle. She remained poised, her posture relaxed despite the tension that thickened the air around them.
The guard’s jaw tightened at her remark, his grip on his weapon growing more rigid. He glanced at his companions, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he weighed her words.
With a sly grin, she awaited his response. She knew she had struck a nerve, and the guard’s clenched jaw betrayed his simmering frustration.
“I suggest you leave before you find yourself in more trouble than you bargained for,” the guard warned.
She chuckled, a low, melodious sound that cut through the tension.
“Oh, sweetie, trouble’s my middle name,” she retorted.
“Leave,” he ordered, taking a step closer toward her.
“Relax your suspenders, or you’ll need surgery to remove your pants from your ass. I’m here to see the Don. I have an appointment.”
She swore she heard one of the guards suppressing a laugh with a cough.
“Brother, just phone it in,” the guard to the right of her interrogator said, lowering his firearm. “I have a feeling she might kill your ego before killing anyone here.”
The guard chuckled, his stern demeanor softening. Her boldness seemed to disarm them, at least momentarily. But she could sense the tension still simmering beneath the surface.
The first guard shot a warning glare at his companion before turning back to her, his expression hardening again.
“We don’t take appointments from stray cats like you,” he sneered, his words dripping with contempt.
She arched an eyebrow. “Is that the best you’ve got?” she mused. “I’ve heard scarier threats from a kitten with a hairball.”
This time, a few guards snickered. She crossed her arms casually, radiating confidence despite the tense situation. “Now, are we going to stand here exchanging recipes, or are you going to let me in to see the Don?”
Before the guard could respond, the heavy wooden doors to the mansion, a few feet from the gate, swung open, revealing a figure silhouetted against the warm glow of the foyer.
“Let her in, Vice,” he commanded with authority.
Vice begrudgingly stepped aside, allowing her to pass through the gate to the mansion. As she drove past him, she couldn’t resist blowing a kiss and winking over her shoulder, relishing in the small victory.
Inside the rich foyer, her adrenaline began to ebb away, replaced by a surge of anticipation. She was about to meet with one of the city’s most powerful men. No matter how often she’s been in his presence, it never got
less intimidating. Especially, given that it was usually at the Quarry and not at his house.
The Don’s mansion was a study in luxury, with marble floors and intricate tapestries adorning the walls. As she walked through the grand entrance hall, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the lavishness surrounding her. And they said crime doesn’t pay.
She hesitated. She was so amazed by the magnitude of the mansion that she didn’t pay any attention to where the Don had disappeared to. Turning to the right, she opened the first door she saw down a wide hallway, leading to a dimly lit study. Her eyes were drawn to a life-size oil painting of a younger Don, sitting in a black winged chair with a little boy on his lap.
She stared in shock. She had no idea that the Don had a child. She couldn’t imagine it—she nearly laughed at the idea of the silver-haired fighter playing catch with the little boy.
“In here.” The Don’s voice boomed from across the entrance hall, and she closed the door—hoping to hell he didn’t see her snooping around.
She found him waiting for her in a lavishly furnished parlor, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in an ornate armchair. His eyes bore into hers with curiosity and suspicion, and she met his gaze with unwavering determination.
As she took a seat opposite him, she couldn’t help but notice the air of authority that seemed to emanate from him. He was a formidable figure with sharp features, olive skin, and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her carefully constructed facade. He was rich, handsome and could make any girl with daddy-issues swoon—if he wasn’t a ruthless killer.
“Don.” She dipped her chin, greeting him.
“Miss Sloan,” he replied with a nod. “Please, take a seat,” he offered with a wave at the brown leather couch in front of him.
She took a seat, leaning onto her elbow on the armrest. She might have been respectful, but she wouldn’t let him see any sign of intimidation.