Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
LUKE
Friday night, I was back in my Miami nightclub, one of the most prestigious clubs around. On any given night, you’d find exclusive private parties happening in the back of the club, where no one got past my guards unless I knew them personally. It was the only way I could protect myself from the long list of people who hated me.
Those rules were just that—there weren’t any.
From sex to drugs to gambling to prostitution to drug smuggling to BDSM to fucking murder—those black walls had seen it throughout the years. Club Inferno was where the elite of the corrupt partied. It was all the craze among the underground worlds. You name it, it took place in my establishment.
Different rooms for different purposes offered something for everyone of all tastes and kinks. The high-energy dance club when you first walked in was hypnotic. Bright lights and strobes bounced from the towered ceilings while the best DJs in the city spun fresh beats you couldn’t help but shake your ass to. Private tables were scattered throughout where you could snort rails off your table or drink the best liquor your money could buy to your heart’s content.
But this was all a cover.
At the back of the club was a set of guarded double doors that led to a long hallway that housed tunnels that led to more depravity, depending on your interests. Each room was named after the source of entertainment it provided, from girls working the poles to a casino to just plain old shooting the shit in the cigar room. The private rooms in the back held beds for a more intimate setting with one of my girls, or you could be a part of a fucking orgy if you walked room to room.
Obviously, the club wasn’t bought under my name. I knew the right people to make it happen without jumping through too many hoops. They ensured I wasn’t linked to the lease in any way, shape, or form, and the LLC was under a ghost company. Just in case some shit went down, I wouldn’t go down with it.
I opened Inferno for purely selfish reasons, wanting a safe environment to call my own. Where the monster inside me could live, breathe, and be out in the fucking open without having to look over my shoulder around every corner. Even if it was only for a few hours a night.
A few moments in time.
All that mattered was I was free. Away from judgment, scrutiny, and being under a goddamn microscope day in and day out. Especially being in the eye of the media more so than I have before. I was physically fucking exhausted.
I smiled, sliding a glass of whiskey across the table.
“When are you going to become a real man and drink scotch? This shit is like water,” the man sitting across from me asked.
I chuckled, setting my glass back down on the table.
“How does it feel to have the world at your fingertips?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“The same way it does for you when you were alive.”
“And don’t you ever forget it, motherfucker.”
My guests and I sat at a private table on the top level, where all the private rooms were enclosed with one-way mirrors, hidden from prying eyes. I could see everything and everyone, but no one could see us. I couldn’t take a chance at being seen, not when I was having drinks with a dead man.
Alejandro Martinez was a ruthless motherfucker most would steer clear of. Those who truly knew me went as far as saying he was worse than me, but they obviously didn’t know me very well. He used to be the snake in the grass you didn’t see coming. They called him El Diablo , meaning the devil, and now his son Cruz has taken over Italy and New York.
I guess you could say Martinez was the originator and used to be the ringleader of organized crime in all parts of the world until he gave it all up for love. He was old as fuck but still enjoyed a hand of poker every so often when he was in town for one thing or another. He and my old man had history.
I’d done business with his son throughout the years, so entertaining his father was the least I could do. They were good people, and you didn’t find a lot of that in this business.
He could tell you his story, not me. He’s El Diablo after all.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught some commotion coming from the back of the room.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Martinez questioned, following my stare.
I immediately made my way toward an unruly club member who was standing in front of where the girls performed. He was taking it upon himself to put his hands where they weren’t wanted. Angel, one of my girls, was kneeling on the edge of the stage, performing an exclusive dance for him, but this asshole was crossing the line.
I never cared much for this son of a bitch. Word around the street was he liked to slap around his wife and kid. Though I was never one to involve myself in someone else’s business, this piece of shit just involved me.
“I pay a lot of money for my membership to do whatever the fuck I want,” he snapped, gripping Angel’s face to look at him while his other hand unbuckled his belt.
“You pay for a membership, not me ! I say what goes. Not you!” she shouted, trying to tug her face away from his forceful hold.
“Do we have a problem here?” I interrupted from behind him, putting my hand up to stop security from interfering.
“Yeah, we do! This bitch won’t give me a happy ending. Who the fuck does she think she is? A cock tease, trying to give me a lap dance like that’s going to get the job done! Get on your knees!” He shoved her face down to his dick.
I scoffed, slowly rolling up the sleeves of my button-down shirt as he continued to assault her. Angel could handle her own—most of my girls could. I chose them for a reason. The last thing I wanted was to babysit. My employees gave zero fucks about the business that was carried on behind these closed doors. Many of them were born into this type of lifestyle.
I finally intervened when he backhanded her with so much force, he sent her body flying across the stage. I roughly gripped his hair from behind him, catching him by surprise and knocking him on his ass. My guard was already ahead of me, opening the door to the back alley as I dragged his struggling body outside like it weighed nothing.
“What the fuck?” he spewed, stumbling to get his footing when I let him go. “This is bullshit! I’ve seen far fucking worse go down in your club than me putting that bitch in her place. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What are you talking about?” I calmly replied, grabbing the lid off the steel trash can beside me. “I’m just taking out the trash.”
“Who the?—”
I uppercut him with the lid of the tin can and now his body was the one flying across the narrow space between us. I always was a firm believer that you reap what you sow.
“You like to hit women?” I spit, hovering above him with the lid still clenched in my grasp.
He rolled around, groaning, trying to get to his knees to get up. “Fuck you!” He spit blood at me, splattering it all over my shirtsleeves.
I didn’t waver, slamming the lid against his body and sending him reeling to the ground again.
I saw red, making him see nothing but black.
“Motherfucker, look what you did. This is one of my favorite fuckin’ shirts.” I hit him, this time with my fist. “Now, I asked you a question. Do you like to hit women, asshole? Hmm? I asked you a question twice. There won’t be a third.”
He spit more blood onto the pavement, grabbing his stomach and failing miserably to get to his feet again. “Go fuck yourself, Jameson!”
I slowly cocked my head to the side with a grin, peering over at my guard, who was leaning against the brick wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
I was calm.
Cool.
Collected.
“Did you hear what he said? He wants me to go fuck myself, right? That’s what he said?”
My guard chuckled, knowing precisely what I was going to do.
Not faltering, I spun back around and kicked him square in the throat. He recoiled, immediately gasping for air. Thrashing around, he desperately gripped his throat as if his hands would suddenly allow him to breathe.
“You want me to go fuck myself? Is that what ya want me to do?”
“No,” he whimpered.
With my foot, I rolled him onto his back before crouching beside him. “What? You didn’t say that? You didn’t just say, ‘Go fuck yourself’?” I taunted, kneeling one knee on his torso. Pressing all my weight onto his chest, I made it nearly impossible for him to breathe. “You callin’ me a liar? I’m a liar, now?” I threw the lid in front of me, pulling out my gun. Aiming it right toward his cock.
His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.” I nodded to my guard. “Get Angel.”
Once she stood out there with us, I stated, “He’s got something to say to you.”
She eyed my gun that was still aimed at him and then at him.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“Now take out all the money you have from your wallet and give it to her as an apology.”
“Yes…” He shook, tossing over a thousand dollars on the road.
“We good?” I asked her.
“We will be in a second.” She turned and kicked him in the balls. “Now we’re good.” I chuckled, placing my gun in the back of my slacks, and walked back inside.
Completely caught off guard by who was now DJ’ing the private party in the strip club room.
Duchess.