Chapter 3 #2
So whoever was doing this had another motive.
“They’ve been watching us,” I said slowly. “Learning. Waiting to see what we’ll do.”
Roulette’s expression hardened. “And now they’re making a move.”
“Not just a move,” I corrected, my voice dropped. “They’re sending a message.”
“To you?” she asked.
“To all of us.”
“Whoever this is,” I said, my tone final, “they didn’t just pick us at random.”
Roulette nodded once. “They’ve got a reason.”
“And we’re going to find out what it is,” I said, my gaze lifting back toward Violent Delights, toward everything that was mine to protect.
Anger simmered low inside me. And all I was certain about was that whoever thought they could use my name, my house, my girls, had no idea what they’d just stepped into.
Roulette watched me for a beat, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass, her expression tightening just enough to tell me she was weighing something before she said it.
“You gonna tell Jameson?”
The question didn’t surprise me coming from her.
I leaned back in my chair, the metal legs scraping softly against the concrete, my eyes still trained on the front of the club as a couple passed by, laughing too loud, unaware of the kind of dangerous world they were brushing up against without even realizing it.
“No,” I said sternly.
Roulette’s brow lifted slightly. “No?” she repeated, testing it.
“No,” I said again, this time turning my head just enough to meet her gaze directly. “He’ll think I can’t handle my shit.”
That was the truth of it. Jameson didn’t deal in half-measures, didn’t tolerate weakness, and while I knew exactly what I was capable of, I also knew how this would look from the outside.
Murders tied to my signature. Feds walking through my doors asking questions.
A pattern forming that I didn’t catch before it hit the streets.That didn’t read like someone who had control of their business, it read sloppy.
And I wasn’t sloppy.
Roulette leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, her voice lowering just enough to keep it between us. “He’s gonna be a hell of a lot more than disappointed if he finds out the Feds are sniffing around your house and you didn’t say a damn word.”
I shrugged, reaching for my glass again, letting the stem rest between my fingers before lifting it slowly. “Then he’ll be pissed,” I said simply. “He can deal with it.”
Her lips pressed together, not convinced, not letting it go.
“This isn’t some easy, this will pass, situation, Stephanie.
This is a string of murders, our calling card being dropped at every scene, and a federal agent walking in like he owns the place asking questions.
That’s not something you just handle quietly and hope it goes away. ”
“I’m not hoping it goes away,” I said, my tone sharpening just enough to cut through the edge in hers. “I’m handling it.”
She held my gaze, searching my face. I let out a quiet breath, my attention drifting back toward the club.
“I don’t need him stepping in and taking over something that’s mine to handle,” I said. “This is my house. My girls. My problem.”
“And your mess,” she added, not unkindly, just honest.
I didn’t flinch.
“Exactly. And if I let him in, he’ll think he can take over and I won’t let any man, no matter how good he is, touch my shit.”
“And what happens when it doesn’t stay contained?” she asked.
“It will,” I replied, without hesitation.
Because if it didn’t, then everything we built, everything we protected, everything we kept balanced between two worlds that were never meant to overlap, would crack. And we couldn’t afford that.
Silence settled between us for a moment, filled with the sounds of the city, the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, the clatter of plates and glasses from inside the restaurant.
My gaze drifted back toward Violent Delights again, the glow from the entrance spilling out onto the sidewalk, catching on passing faces, on shadows that moved in and out of the light without ever stopping long enough to matter.
Someone had taken our business and was turning it into a clown show, something reckless, something designed to draw attention in a way we never allowed.
It wasn’t just a threat, they were challenging us. They wanted a reaction out of us, and they would most likely get it.
Roulette followed my line of sight, her voice quieter now, more measured. “You really think this is someone we pissed off?”
I didn’t answer right away. Because the truth was, we had pissed off a lot of people.
Men with money. Men with power. Men who didn’t like being told no. Men who thought they owned things they didn’t, who tried to take what wasn’t theirs and paid for it in ways they never saw coming.
“We’ve crossed paths with enough enemies to fill a damn graveyard,” I said finally, my tone low. “But this…” I shook my head slightly. “This feels different.”
“Different how?”
“Personal,” I said, the word settling heavy between us.
Roulette’s fingers stilled against her glass. “So not just revenge.”
“No,” I said. “Not just revenge.”
There was intent behind every move, every body dropped, every card left behind with just enough craft to make people pay attention without understanding what they were really looking at.
Someone had taken the time to study us, not from the outside where everything looks normal and polished, but they knew how we operated, how we moved, how we handled our business, and they were mimicking it with a level of accuracy that didn’t come from guesswork.
That kind of knowledge didn’t come cheap and it didn’t come from the street.
I felt the realization settle in my gut.
“We’ve got a mole,” I said, my voice quieter now.
Roulette stilled across from me, her expression tightening as she leaned in slightly. “You really think it’s one of our own?”
I shook my head once. “Not our girls,” I said firmly.
“I’d stake my life on that.” My gaze drifted toward Violent Delights again, toward the doors that held everything we protected.
“But someone around us. Someone close enough to see what we do, to hear what we say, to understand how we move without being questioned.”
Because there was no other explanation that fit.
No outsider could replicate this level of detail without slipping up, without getting something wrong, without exposing themselves somewhere along the line. This was inside knowledge.
“There’s no way anyone pulls this off without access,” I continued, my jaw tightening. “Not unless they’ve been inside that building, or standing close enough to it for longer than we realized.”
Roulette let out a slow breath, her eyes narrowing as the weight of that settled in. “That’s a dangerous kind of problem.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, my gaze hardening, my mind already shifting into something colder, more focused. “It is.”
I looked back at the building once again.
“Which means whoever it is,” I added, “they didn’t just make a mistake.”
Roulette watched me carefully, already knowing where this was going.
“They made themselves visible.”
A slow, deliberate breath left my lungs as I held her steady gaze.”
“And believe me, I will find out who the hell it is and I will bury them.”