Chapter Eleven #2
“What I want to know is how it escaped your notice for so long?”
“It didn’t. I was aware of what Perry was doing. Almost from the start.”
“So you allowed this peon to steal from us?” Tyrone butted in with a look of horror. His weak-ass chin was starting to piss me off.
“Was there an advantage we’re all unaware of?” my father questioned.
“Yes. But the benefit was mine alone.”
Tyrone and my father shared a long look. “Then I expect every penny to be repaid from your personal accounts,” my father dictated.
“Of course. It’s already being handled.”
“And the man responsible? He’s dead, I assume?”
I paused at that since lying would be a deadly mistake, but so would telling the truth. I didn’t give a fuck if Roshaun lived or died. His sister, unfortunately, did. “Dead-ish,” I supplied with a noncommittal rock of my head.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I’m not done playing with my food. I’m sending a message. Killing him too quickly won’t get my point across.”
“And is that the only reason?”
I took the time to sip my drink before answering. “What other reason would there be?” Staring at him over the rim of my glass, I silently dared him with my eyes to call me out.
Filled with too much ego to play the long game, my father played right into my hands. “Is his sister not your guest at Glainne right now?”
“I wouldn’t call her a guest,” I retorted honestly and yet duplicitously. After all, Coby was the queen of my castle, not a fucking guest. “As I said…” I set my glass on the table with an audible thunk. “I’m sending a message. Coby Perry is mine until I’m done collecting interest.”
It was all I could do not to outwardly revolt when something like pride and approval filled my father’s eyes. “Very well. Do with the girl what you will, but do it quickly. I want this shit handled before anyone else gets any grand ideas.”
“And now for the other matter, “ Tyrone said. “We’ve set a new date for your marriage to Niamh. Given your recent and troubling objections, we’ve decided to move up the wedding to prevent any further disruptions. The ceremony will take place exactly two months from now.”
Knowing my father was incredibly literal, it was easy to calculate the date he had in mind.
Silently, I swore, but it made no difference. A second later, I threw my glass at the wall in front of me. Unfortunately, Tyrone’s reflexes were better than I gave him credit for, which pissed me off even more, especially when I knew this was his doing.
“And you all agree with this shit?” I shouted at the silent table.
“No one finds it fucking weird that she’s our fucking cousin?
This is the twenty-first fucking century.
Even James knew better.” I directed that last part at my father, who idolized the father of the Fola.
Still, no one at the table said a word or stood up for Niamh, who was only eighteen fucking years old.
She regularly babysat for the men around this table, helped a few of them study to get their GED, always remembered everyone’s birthday, patched our wounds when one of us took a bullet or a knife, and always showed love no matter what.
“No, of course not,” I said with open disdain.
“Fucking pussies would rather cower under my father’s heel than risk being trampled by it. ”
Or maybe they were all just hoping my father would disown me and pick one of them.
“Are you done, son?”
Shoving away from my chair, I stood. I’ve known since I was a kid that my father wasn’t sane, but he was so much worse than having a few screws loose because morals and madness were not mutually exclusive.
A man with no conscience was infinitely more dangerous.
“Yeah, I’m fucking done. Plan all you want, but I ain’t marrying Niamh. ”
My father shoved to his feet as well. “You will do as you’re told!”
The crystals in the chandelier above the table shook at the end of his roar.
The men around the table looked at each other nervously.
The room my mother was having renovated was right above us.
One of the contractors probably dropped something, but my father capteans couldn’t see through their fear, so instead of reaching for reason, the trembling chandelier added to the imagined omnipotence of my father.
I palmed my face.
I’m surrounded by weak and idiotic sycophants.
Not for long.
“Aye, I can’t lie. I think Ocean’s right,” Diontay said hesitantly.
I forgot all about my father as I watched Dion lean forward to meet the gaze of everyone at the table.
“I’m not down with this inbreeding shit.
Y’all might be able to look away because it ain’t you, but I’m not dumb enough to believe it will stop with Ocean and Niamh.
” Wrinkling his nose, he sat back in his chair and freed a blunt from his pocket.
“There’s a planet full of bitches just itching to fill that spot,” he said as he lit up.
“I know we all about blood ties and shit, but this is taking it too far.” Meeting my gaze, he nodded.
A heavy weight gradually lifted from my shoulders as pride and appreciation burrowed into my chest. Dion was our youngest captean.
He was loyal, hungry, and smart as hell.
He oversaw our weapons caches as well as the distribution and shipments in and out of Black Veil.
Among all the Fola’s capteans, Diontay’s division was the largest. He had more soldiers under his direct command than even me because if anyone ever got their hands on just one of our armories, it would be an all-out war.
Fortunately, he was sitting on my side of the table, but that was by design since he had his position because of me.
My father was power hungry, but he lacked vision and didn’t trust the younger generation.
That’s where I came in. I gave them power, a voice, and a bigger slice of the pie.
In return, they made sure that when I inevitably went to war with my father, I would win.
“Sorry, Unc. I’m with Diontay and Ocean on this one,” Keefe said. There were murmurs and faint nods of agreement all around.
Without a word of warning, my father pulled his gun and fired.
“Aargh!” Diontay flew back in his chair, hitting the floor while a chorus of shouts and curses rang out around us. My cousins all reached for their guns out of self-preservation, but one look from me had them pulling their hands away and relaxing in their chairs again.
“Diontay!” Rodney, his father, shot out of his seat and over to his bleeding son, who was clutching his shoulder. Seeing Dion still alive, Rodney looked down the table at my father with eyes full of rage. “You shot my fucking son! You could have killed him!”
“It was a shame that I didn’t,” my father stated coldly.
“Anyone else want to express their objections?” The room fell silent again.
Only Dion’s pained grunts could be heard as he writhed on the floor.
“I didn’t fucking think so.” My father regarded me with a look that said if he had a spare heir, I’d be fertilizing my mother’s garden.
“Son…do not think for one second that I will not put you down if you prove useless to me. For your mother’s sake, I’ll give you until la Nollaige2 to understand who runs this shit.
Now get the fuck out of my sight. You’re all dismissed. ”
Chairs scraped the floor as everyone pushed away from the table and left. Rodney helped his son out of the room, leaving only my father and me. I didn’t have shit to say to his ass though. I was busy wondering what the fuck I was going to do now.
Two months…
Christmas.
I had until the day of my wedding to decide how I wanted to become the next Boss of the Fola—if I wanted to honor tradition (or my father’s sick version of it) or start a war.
Well then…I guess I was getting married in two months.
I just prayed Coby would forgive me.
It wasn’t until we reached the city that I realized Kellan missed his check-in.
I fished my burner out of my pocket and called him, but the line rang so long I thought it might go to voicemail (which wasn’t allowed to ever happen).
Finally, it stopped, and a voice that didn’t belong to my newest associate answered.
“Hi,” the soft voice greeted. I was surprised to find it was a woman on the other end, and my anger reappeared when I assumed Kellan was off getting some pussy when he was supposed to be watching Hunter.
“Kellan can’t come to the phone right now,” she informed me cheerily.
“He’s currently nursing his head and his ego, but I can take a message.
” I was too fucking stunned at the audacity of this soon-to-be-dead bitch to respond, so her playful tone quickly hardened into a pissed one.
“Look, pervert, if you’re not going to talk, I’m hanging up. I got shit to do.”
I actually heard the faint sound of metal scraping against metal, something being slapped into place, and then the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
Intrigued, I moved over to one of the lounge chairs to sit and put my feet up. “Who is this?” I asked even though I suspected the answer already. A smile was already playing on my lips. Remembering my bride waiting for me back at home, I let it fall.
“Me?” the voice teased. I heard a door open and slam closed in her background. She was on the move, but where? And where the fuck was Kellan? “I’m the new owner of this phone. Who are you?”
“The former owner of this phone,” I informed through gritted teeth.
My amusement with Hunter was fading fast. Abel turned in his seat at the front of the Denali, a questioning look on his face, and I mouthed Kellan.
He immediately turned in his seat and gave the order to drive to Coby’s old apartment.
“Well, that’s impossible since you sound nothing like the handsy bastard I lifted it from.”
My voice dropped to a dangerous rumble as I asked, “Kellan touched you?”
The other end of the line grew quiet, and I realized my tone must have thrown her off.
Shit, it was scaring me.
Hunter recovered faster and said, “Yup! You should really try teaching your goons some manners. I had to squeeze his balls, literally and then figuratively, but I think he’s getting the message. You’re welcome.”
Chuckling, I rubbed my brow as I was once again forced to move the pieces on my chessboard. “I underestimated you, Hunter.”
“People tend to do that.” She didn’t pretend to be at all surprised that I knew exactly who she was.
“So here’s the deal…” I heard beeping in the background as she spoke, and I lost the battle with my honor as I pulled out my actual phone and tapped into the security feed from the hidden cameras.
I never allowed myself to look at the feed until now.
What I saw sent the blood in my veins rushing to my dick.
Hunter was standing in the middle of the room, wearing only a glittery fucking thong and nothing else except the kunai strapped to her thigh.
Her back was to the camera, but her round, perky breasts jiggled with every movement as she slowly braided her long hair into a single plait at the back of her skull.
When she was done, the tail swept the top of that fat ass.
My gaze was glued to it as she bent over to grab something from the bed.
I grabbed my dick with a hard grip when it jerked in my jeans. Don’t even fucking think about it.
It took me far too long to look away and notice the bed.
At her feet, poking out from underneath the bed was a heavy, long, flat safe that had already been emptied.
On top of the bed were two large Sigs, a pink subcompact Ruger, one Glock, a goddamn switch, a pump action shotgun, three serrated hunting knives, more throwing knives, several boxes of ammo, a fucking hand grenade, and a sniper rifle.
Hunter made peanuts and had a record, which included at least one felony obtained when she was fourteen. There was only one answer for who could have supplied her with that much hardware.
Us.
The Fola.
Fucking Dion.
If he were standing right in front of me, I would have shot his other shoulder.
“I know you’re the one who took my Yin,” Hunter said as she moved over to the dresser and started to dress. “I don’t know why, and I don’t really give a fuck. You’re going to give her back in one piece, and it’s going to be now.”
“Don’t leave me in suspense when you’ve worked so hard to intrigue me, Hunter. What will you do if I don’t?” I challenged.
“I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.” Dressed now in skin-tight black pants, a matching long-sleeve shirt, and a bulletproof vest, Hunter grabbed a box of ammo and an extra mag and began loading the clip.
“Do you even know who you’re threatening?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Should it matter?”
“No,” I said after a long silence. My respect for Hunter Parrish was foolishly growing. Now that Coby was mine, I could understand Hunter’s reckless desire to go to war to get her back. I’d do the same, which is why I said, “It sure as fuck wouldn’t matter to me.”
On the screen, I could see Hunter pause a moment before she resumed sliding bullets into her magazine.“I’m glad we understand each other.”
“Hunter, I think we’re far from understanding each other. Stand down. This is your last warning.”
Ignoring me, she strapped one holster around her thigh and another around her waist. “And this is my warning,” she said as she shoved one of the Sigs into the holster. “You have an hour to return my friend. By the end of that hour, I’ll be on your doorstep, shooting anything that moves.”
Grinning widely, I cooed, “Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. And Hunter?”
“What?” Her movements grew increasingly agitated.
“I promise mine are bigger.”
Unafraid and strapped for war, Hunter snorted. “Okay, I hear you. I guess we’ll just have to pull them out and see.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” I ended the call and the video feed.
Abel turned around in his seat again, but I paid him no mind as I stared out the window while deep in thought.
I’d found Coby’s warnings cute before, but now I wondered if she’d just been playing along and hiding her friend up her sleeve this entire time.
Eager to find out, I slid over in the backseat and pressed my gun to Paul, my driver’s skull.
“Hurry the fuck up and get to that apartment,” I barked.
“You have seven minutes before I splatter your thoughts on the windshield.”
Paul punched the gas and got us there in six, but when Abel kicked in the door, I stepped inside the girls’ apartment and discovered that we were too late.
Hunter was long gone.
1 . Advisor
2 . Christmas Day