Chapter 18
DUCHESS
Isat back in my chair, the silk of my blouse sliding against my skin, feeling the weight of the city pressing against the floor-to-ceiling glass behind me.
I knew what they said about me. The curvy brunette with the iron fist. The queen of the Turkish mafia who didn't blink when the blood started to flow.
Most men looked at my curves and forgot that I could have their tongues ripped out before they finished a sentence.
Only Jameson ever looked at me and saw exactly what I was without being intimidated by it.
The glass door slid open, and Legion practically stumbled in.
He looked like he’d been chewed up by a street fight and spat out into a gutter.
His clothes were ruined, stained with grime and something darker that smelled of blood and old sweat.
He didn't ask for permission. He just sank into one of the leather chairs, his body stiff, a low hiss escaping his teeth as he tried to find a position that didn't hurt.
I didn't move. I let the silence stretch, watching him with heavy lids, my chin resting on my hand.
"Roulette finally decided you were boring enough to let go," I said, my voice a low drawl.
Legion leaned back, his eyes scanning my space with a weary sort of curiosity.
"She’s got a funny definition of boring."
I arched a brow, my gaze drifting to the way he held his side.
"Lantana has caught me up to sleep on everything going on. So tell me, Legion, why are you now sitting in my office?”
Legion didn't smile. He looked exhausted, the kind of tired that goes deeper than a lack of sleep.
"There are too many eyes on you, Duchess. Too many bodies piling up in places they don't belong. The air in NYC is getting thick with the scent of a slaughterhouse."
I let out a soft huff, leaning forward. The gold bangles at my wrist clinked softly.
"Do you boys just think the Harlots are just here to look pretty? My girls can handle the cleanup. I don't need the Royal Bastards playing neighborhood watch on my turf."
He shifted, and I saw him wince. He didn't care about the pleasantries. He leaned in, his voice dropping an octave.
"You sent your girls to ask your questions.”
I nodded. “I did.”
“NOw I need to know something.” I spread my hands signaling for him to continue.”Did you retrieve any information from Sam Lovino before he died?"
I didn't blink and I sat there contemplating what to say to him. “I assure Jameson wants to know?”
He nodded. “Yeah. That was part of my job.”
Taking a deep sigh, I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a small, silver thumb drive. I lifted it to show him, and then slid it across the polished onyx surface of my desk. It skated toward him, a tiny piece of plastic that held the Bastards’ information.
"Lovino was a victim of circumstances," I replied smoothly. "We got the hard drive the Jersey mob needed, and they came in and finished the job. He was stealing from people who don't take kindly to thieves. What did you expect?"
Legion stared at the drive, then looked back at me. "Tell your President I'm not stupid," I continued, my voice hardening. "I knew exactly who Lovino was before we completed the job. Everything on that drive is what Obsidian extracted. No one has Bastard information."
Legion nodded slowly, his calloused fingers grabbing the drive. He held it up to the light, his expression grim. "He was afraid of this leaking out."
"I figured that's why he sent you."
"That was one of the reasons," he muttered.
He didn't put the drive away. He just left it resting in his palm, the conversation shifting gears. The air in the room grew heavier, the professional courtesy vanishing.
"This isn't just about a dead snitch, Duchess. This is about the Bloody Scorpions."
I nodded. “What about them?”
“As you now know, they’re planning on fucking you over.”
“And what makes you think we can’t handle it?”
“I never said you couldn’t. I’m just telling you to watch your back and maybe…calling for backup isn’t a bad idea.
"This is the first I've even heard of them being in the zip code."
Legion scoffer. “The Scorpions don’t announce themselves. They show up and fuck shit up without you even knowing they were there. We’ve been dealing with them for years and since you are important to Jameson, they have decided you’re their next target.”
“Are they behind all the shit that’s been thrown at us?”
He nodded. “They’ve been working with a woman to do their dirty deeds. Someone who knows how to move in the shadows without tripping any alarms."
I shifted my weight, my curiosity piqued. "A woman? Since when do the Scorpions trust anyone outside their own circle of degenerates? How do you know this?"
Legion reached over and pulled back the fabric of his shirt, revealing a dark, blooming stain on his side. The bandage was soaked through, a deep crimson that looked black under my office lights.
"She's the one who stiffed a six-inch blade in my side," he said.
I raised a brow, leaning back.
"It looks like they're trying to ruin your operation from the inside out. To be honest, I don't think they know who they're fucking with. They think they're playing a game of checkers while you're playing chess, but they're still burning the board."
I let my fingers drum a slow, rhythmic beat on the onyx. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant, muffled roar of the wind against the floor to ceiling windows in my office.
“It’s been bad weather lately, hasn’t it.” I turned to look at the storm clouds building over the Brooklyn bridge.
“Yeah it has,” he agreed. “Hasn’t made things easier for me.”
After a long moment I turned back to him. "I'll figure it out," I decided. "If it's a woman, I can handle her. And I can handle anyone else who thinks they can fuck with my business."
Legion stood up slowly, a low hiss of pain escaping him. He leaned over the desk, invading my space. I could smell the road grit and the metallic tang of his blood, a stark contrast to the scent of my expensive perfume.
"Jameson didn't send me here as a courtesy call, Duchess.
He sent me because there's a reason for it.
You should take his help. You know damn well that I'm not going to go against him.
Not if I want to keep my patch. If the Scorpions pull this off, you're going to have some major issues that a few Turkish hitmen can't fix. "
I stared at him, my eyes flashing. "Are you telling me how to run my operation, biker?”
I had to respect that the kid was holding his own. "I'm giving you a heads-up. If you don't believe me, call your brother. He knows everything. He knows exactly what's crawling through the dirt under your feet."
The mention of Colt pissed me off. “That’s enough. Get the fuck out.”
Legion didn't move immediately, he just smirked. A slow, knowing expression that made me want to wrap my hands around his throat.
"Don't leave town, Legion," I commanded, in case I needed him to return. "And when you talk to F.O.C.U.S., tell that disloyal fuck he's officially on my shitlist."
Legion’s smirk widened. He knew the hierarchy.
He knew that if anyone else had called F.O.C.U.S.
a disloyal motherfucker, they’d be missing their tongue by dinner.
But the bond between the Bastards and my world was a messy, complicated knot of respect and hatred.
He turned and walked out, the glass door sliding shut with a final click.
I stood in the center of my office feeling worn out. I hated being blindsided. I hated the idea that something or someone was operating under my nose, turning my Harlots into their own personal playground. And now that I knew it was a woman, it pissed me off even more.
I reached for my phone, my fingers shaking slightly as I scrolled through my contacts. I hit the button for Colt.
The line rang twice before his rough, familiar voice answered.
"I assume you're calling because Legion just told you your house is on fire," Colt said, skipping the pleasantries.
I began to pace, my heels clicking sharply against the black floor, the sound echoing in the hollow of the room.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me the Scorpions were behind this? Why let me sit here like a fool while some bitch is stabbing your bikers in the tunnels?"
"Because you wouldn't have listened," Colt replied, his voice dry as bone. "You're too proud, sis. You think because you've built a fortress of black marble and silk that the world forgets how to be ugly. But the Scorpions are the ugliest thing there is."
"I can handle it," I snapped. "I have the resources. I have the men."
"You have soldiers," Colt corrected. "The Scorpions aren't soldiers, they're fucking animals.
They don't follow the rules of the mafia or the laws of the clubs.
They don't play fair, and they don't care about the balance of power. They just want to tear things down. You fucked with them now they fuck with you.”
I stopped pacing and looked out at the skyline. From up here, everything looked orderly, but beneath that order the dark tunnels, the sewers, and the forgotten spaces where things like the Bloody Scorpions thrived.
"I respect Jameson," I murmured, my voice softening. "I've always respected him. But I didn't plan on having him in my business right now. I didn't plan on needing the Royal Bastards to save my skin."
"Pride is a luxury you can't afford right now," Colt said. "If you don't talk to Jameson, if you don't coordinate with him, this is just going to get worse. The Scorpions are already inside the wire. If you wait until you have a body on your own desk to admit you need help, it'll be too late."
I closed my eyes, trying to get my thoughts together.
"Legion was just gathering intel," I said, though it sounded like a lie even to me. "I don't want any other members out here. I can't have a biker war breaking out in the middle of Manhattan. I’ll contact him if needed."
"Get your shit together, sis" Colt replied bluntly. "Because the Scorpions don't give a damn about your real estate or your reputation. They're coming for everything. Talk to Jameson. Do it before the blood starts staining your black carpets."
I didn't answer. I ended the call and dropped the phone onto the onyx desk. The silence of the office returned, and I took a much needed deep breath.
I walked to the back of the room and reached for the decanter sitting on one of the shelves.
I poured myself a drink, the ice clinking against the glass broke the silence in the office.
My thoughts went to the woman Legion mentioned.
A woman who could slip past my security, who could strike a Royal Bastard and vanish into the dark.
I wanted to know who she was. And if she had a price, then I may be willing to pay it and turn her against the Scorpions.
I took a slow sip of the whiskey, the burn sliding down my throat.
I looked at the phone again. The thought of calling Jameson made my stomach churn, a mix of irritation and an old, buried tension that I refused to name.
It wasn't part of my plan. I preferred to be the one pulling the strings.
Asking for help felt like a surrender, and surrender was not in my vocabulary.
But I needed his help in finding this woman, and if I did need backup, he needed to understand that I had my own.
I stood up and walked toward the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. I watched a single black car weave through the traffic, and for a moment, I wondered if the woman with the blade was watching me back. The realization sent a shiver of genuine cold through me.