Chapter 2
Chapter Two
December is the busiest time of the year for me. My nightclub, Pulse, is the hottest spot on the Miami strip. Our December event space is booked out three years in advance. Not to mention all the tourists and locals wanting to get together and let loose for the holidays.
Tonight is no different. The place is fucking packed from wall to wall. I look down at the crowd from where I’m standing on the third-floor balcony.
“Good night?”
My head turns and I smile when I see Colton, my second in command, who also happens to be my best friend.
“It is.” I nod. “Everything set for the meetup?”
Pulse is my baby, my legitimate baby that I use to launder the dirty money we bring in from other…
less-legitimate ventures. Tonight, I’m meeting with a cartel boss to secure a coke deal that will increase our profit margins by a quarter.
And when you’re already working in the millions, a quarter increase is a fucking lot of money.
I need this deal to go through without any hiccups.
“Everything’s in place,” Colton says. “You look like you need a drink or some pussy. You’re wound far too fucking tight.” He slaps a hand down on my shoulder.
Right now, I’d take either. I try to remember the last time I got laid, and when I realize I have to think about it, I know it’s been way too fucking long. I don’t do dry spells. I do busy spells. I’ve been working day and night and haven’t had time to indulge.
“Let’s get a drink,” I tell Colton, knowing if I were to choose option number two, it’d be an all-night event. I am not some two-pump chump.
As we make our way down to the lower floor, where most of the patrons hang out, the crowds disperse, mostly because the two security guards I have walking in front of us are shoving everyone out of our way. And partly because when they do bother to look up, they see me stalking towards them.
It would be easier to have a drink in my office or on the VIP floor. I like coming down here, though. I like being seen. It deters the fuckers who are stupid enough to try to do anything in my club. It works for the most part. But every now and then, I have to make an example.
I don’t let my own drugs come into this club—no fucking way will I let others bring that shit in here. Like I said, this is a legitimate business. I keep it clean. Besides the dirty money I already mentioned.
When Colton and I reach the bar, two glasses of whiskey are waiting for us and two barstools are empty. Being the owner has perks.
I sit at the end of the bar, pick up the glass, and bring it to my lips. Colton’s gaze is stuck on a leggy blonde a few spots over, and I know I’ve lost him.
Shaking my head, I lean in and stand. “See you in a few minutes.”
“Fuck off. It’ll be at least half an hour.” He smirks.
“Sure it will.”
I laugh before making my way through the crowd to head back up to my office. Until something catches my eye. Not something, someone. Some fucking kid passes a clear plastic baggy to one of my patrons.
“Grab the fucker and bring him upstairs,” I tell my head of security. He’s never far from my back. He nods and makes a beeline for the kid.
Looks like I’ve just found a way to release some of this built-up tension.
By the time I’ve reached my office, my rage has simmered to a nice boiling point. I sit behind my desk, draw the pistol from my top drawer, and place it right in front of me. I want this little fucker to see just how much shit he’s in.
Andre comes in with a skinny-ass kid struggling in his hands. His feet dragging across the carpet. I wait for Andre to place him in the seat directly opposite mine, his hand firmly placed on the kid’s shoulder.
“How old are you?” is my first question, because the boy looks fucking prepubescent to me.
“E-eighteen,” the kid stutters out.
“Old enough to know better, then. What the fuck were you dealing in my club?” My next question is delivered with a harsher tone.
“I-I…” He shakes his head from side to side.
“I would advise you not to lie to me, boy. The last person to do that ended up with their tongue split in two,” I tell him.
“It’s nothing. Just aspirin. I swear,” he says.
“Aspirin?” I cock a single eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that you’re selling aspirin in my fucking club?”
“Well, they don’t know it’s aspirin,” he tells me like I’m the fucking idiot here.
“Do you know what the penalty for dealing in my club is?” I ask. And before he can answer me, I tell him, “Ten grand or two fingers. Your choice,” while knowing he doesn’t have ten grand or the means to pull it together.
“I… I can get you the money. I just need to call my sister,” he insists, his face a few shades paler now.
He can’t be serious. He’s going to call his sister? This kid is either stupid or selfish enough to drag his sister into this mess.
Curiosity more than anything else has me nodding. “By all means, go ahead. Call your sister.” I gesture a hand in front of me.
When he grabs his phone and starts dialing her number, I tell him to put it on speaker. The phone rings out, and he looks at me with wide eyes.
“She will call back. She always does,” he says. And he’s right. A couple of minutes later, his phone rings.
“Speaker,” I grunt as he goes to answer it.
“Hayley, thank god! Are you still at the airport? Did you leave yet?” he says in one long breath.
“Not yet. Why? I just checked in,” a soft, sweet voice replies. She was at the airport, and he called her? Fucking idiot.
“I messed up, Hay, like really bad,” he says.
When his sister groans through the phone, I feel it in my dick. “Riley, what did you do?” she asks him.