Chapter 6
Six
“ H as the fucker spoken yet?”
Hiro, who is standing guard at the door to the interrogation room located beneath one of my seedier casinos in the city, shakes his head before taking a drink of his coffee.
“Akihito is still carving some flesh out.” He grimaces slightly. Fucker isn’t bothered by lighting a man on fire and roasting marshmallows on the corpse, but somehow cutting off some skin makes him squeamish. Sighing, I toss my jacket at him and roll up my sleeves.
“Shouldn’t you be consummating those vows you took?” He waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively.
“I’m pretty sure she’d rather nail this guy than me at the moment.”
Hiro scrunches his nose in disgust. “I don’t think so, but hey.” He shrugs. “What do I know?”
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and push past Hiro into the dank room.
Akihito, one of my best interrogators, turns as I enter and raises an eyebrow at me. I shake my head at him, silently telling him not to worry about it. He thought I wouldn’t come into work today. Not with my runaway bride back under my control and locked in her gilded cage. It is the day after my wedding, after all.
I told Evaline that I am a man who takes what I want, and the fact that she immediately assumed I would rape her bothers me. The vehemence in her tone when she said she would out me to the society papers itches at my soul. Because her tone was dripping with fear.
Most men in my position would take advantage of a bride like Evaline. She is gorgeous, even with the bad bleach job on top of her head. Her soft green eyes, flecked with gold, and delicious curves can drive a man to commit murder. But as hard as she makes my dick, I will never force her.
I won’t have to, because Evaline Nakamura will beg for my cock when the time is right.
Selecting a set of brass knuckles from the stainless-steel table on my right, I approach the man tied to a chair in the center of the room and punch him hard in the gut. A sense of calm rushes over me, the violence soothing the storm that’s been whirling inside me since I found Evaline in that club.
When I abducted Evaline, Hiro made sure to take this fucker from the strip club before he torched it to the ground. I saw the way he looked at her. Heard him tell one of the security guards that he was going to peel her outfit from her body, whether she liked it or not. Evaline may be nothing more than a business deal, but she is still my wife.
And I protect what is mine.
This union has its purpose, and it is to thrust the legitimate companies under my jurisdiction into the fat pockets of New Orleans high society. The LaMontagne family comes from old money. They are one of the most influential families in Louisiana, and luckily for me, Gerard LaMontagne likes to play with the gangsters.
Having the support of the LaMontagne name will help to hide the shadier sides of my businesses. Along with my legitimate investment business and my casino and real estate empire, I also oversee the Sovereign Brotherhood’s underground illegalities.
Our brotherhood has three parts, and each part is run by either Vitali, Andrei, or me. While I oversee our illegal brothels and casinos, as well as drug running and gunrunning, Vitali runs money laundering through our legit businesses like the casinos, clubs, restaurants, and brothels we run in Miami, Vegas, and here in New Orleans. He’s always been better with numbers than with people. Meanwhile, Andrei runs the casinos, starts new business ventures, and takes care of the legal side of our businesses. His men also provide support and act as our response team.
Our unity makes us three of the most powerful men in America.
And some of the most targeted.
“Please,” the man in front of me begs, bringing me back to the present. “I didn’t know she belonged to you.”
Bert Macintyre barely looks human anymore with how much flesh he is missing. I would almost believe him except that someone paid him twenty thousand dollars to force my wife up on that stage and promised another forty thousand if he raped her. The money was wired from an offshore account in the Caymans, making it untraceable. The text message he received is useless as well. It was a burner phone, but whoever bought it didn’t bother to spoof the number, because it came back as a 504 area code.
New Orleans.
“Lying isn’t going to get you anywhere, Berty boy,” I sneer as I stalk around him, a predator circling its prey. “You talked to someone on the other end of that number, and I want to know who.”
“I don’t know,” he cries, tears seeping out from under his swollen lids and mixing with the blood and dirt on his cheeks. His lips tremble, but he still doesn’t do anything but sob, swearing up and down that he has no idea who the person on the other end of the line was.
“Their voice was masked,” he murmurs through missing teeth and swollen lips. “I can’t tell you anything. It was nothing more than an electronic robot speaking on the other end. I swear.”
Setting down the brass knuckles, I reach back and grab my nine-mil from the small of my back.
“Then you aren’t of any use to me.”
“Who in New Orleans would want that pervy asshole to rape Evaline?” Hiro wonders as he pours two generous fingers of my Macallan thirty-year double cask scotch. Not that I can say much since I just poured myself four fingers of the same. The fiery liquid lights a path down my throat as I think about it as well.
“How about, who the hell knew that Evaline was even in Vegas?” Wataru, my other right-hand man, adds. “Or that she was going to be at that specific club on that specific night.”
They are both asking the right questions, but they are questions that none of us have the answers to. There isn’t anyone I can think of who would want to see Evaline raped. It doesn’t make any sense. Taken hostage, maybe. Killed, yes. I have plenty of enemies who knew about our engagement. It was all over the papers, but as far as anyone knew, our wedding plans were called off when she ran. Or, as her father spun it, she was suddenly called away to an important charity in Thailand, where she would be teaching English to the underprivileged village populations.
Something the society papers ate up like carbs at a weight watchers meeting.
Wataru’s cold, dark eyes meet mine. They’re sharp against his olive complexion and his slicked back teal blue hair and faded sides. Despite his outrageous hair color, he is impeccably dressed in a tailored black Dior suit with a white button-up.
Just like his suit, Wataru views the world in shades of black and white. There isn’t any room in his life for gray areas. You’re either friend or foe. Loyal or a traitor. On his side or against it. You either agree or disagree. That is how he views the world and has since he was a child in my father’s training school. From day one, he’s shown unwavering loyalty, first to my father and then to me.
Hiro, on the other hand, is a wild card. As unpredictable as the fire he plays with. At six-four, he’s the tallest of the three of us, but he is lighter and less intimidating than his broody counterpart. His father is American, so he’s got a pair of deep blue eyes and long-shoulder length black hair that he ties up in a half bun. He prefers holey jeans and band T-shirts to a suit.
They are a study in contrasts that work well with one another. It is why I chose them both as my seconds-in-command. It’s like having a devil and an angel on my shoulder.
“Who the hell knows,” Hiro sighs. “The burner phone leads nowhere. I can’t even track where in the city it was bought. We also need to consider that it being purchased here in New Orleans could be a plant, making it seem like it was someone here.”
“We can rule out the Sinaloa Cartel,” Wataru says, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Subterfuge isn’t their thing. They wouldn’t pay someone to make Evaline dance on stage and then rape her. They’d just grab her and do it themselves before killing her.”
As much as the image he paints is painful to consider, he is right. The Sinaloa Cartel doesn’t do subtle.
“It could have been Evaline who set it up,” Hiro murmurs, toying with the glass in his hand. “If she knew you were in the city and coming after her. Maybe it was a ploy to get you to think she was spoiled goods.”
That wouldn’t matter to me. Spoiled goods or not, Evaline is an asset I need. Her virginity or lack thereof means little to me. It’s been three years since she left me standing at the altar. I’m not na?ve enough to believe she didn’t hook up or experiment with someone. She should be grateful I’m not demanding their names so I can hunt them down and dismember them for touching what is mine.
Gerard and my father had an agreement before she was born. We’ve been arranged to be married since before her birth. When Evaline turned sixteen, her father sent over the official contract of marriage, along with a signed medical certificate that authenticated her virginity. The whole thing disgusted me. The notion of purity for young girls in high society is sickening and outdated.
I rest my elbows on my desk and steeple my fingers under my chin. “I doubt Evaline has anything to do with that. The look on her face as she danced on that stage was nothing short of contempt. She didn’t want to be up there. Evaline is a lot of things, but she isn’t someone who can hide her true emotions.”
Neither of my men argue that.
They’ve known her just as long as I have. I’ve dragged them to every forced outing, get-together, and charade I’ve been forced to put on for the sake of our “engagement.” The society papers didn’t want to see an arranged marriage that involved an unhappy couple. They wanted to know about how I wooed Evaline and made her fall in love with me.
I’m pretty sure she’d rather have stuck a knife through my heart than be wooed on any of those occasions.
Hiro’s legs twitch restlessly. “What about Ruzlov?” he wonders. “He’s been trying to get Evaline’s father to nullify the marriage contract between the two of you so he could have her for himself.”
Constantine Ruzlov is a thorn in my side. He is the Pakhan of the Ruzlov Bratva, an independent faction of the Russian Mafia operating here in New Orleans. He doesn’t answer to a higher authority because he is his own man. The man is like a cockroach. Just when I think I got rid of him, he pops back up again.
“See what you can gather about his plans with Gerard.” I down the rest of my drink. Something isn’t right, and I can’t figure out what it is. Nothing about the texts and calls to Berty makes sense. Unless that is the point.
“Will do.” Hiro nods his head, finishing his own drink. “This is messed up.”
Wataru chuckles. “Speaking of messed up,” he says. “What are you going to do about your marriage to Evaline?”
My forehead puckers, and I stare at him, confused. “We’ve already discussed the plan regarding my marriage to her.” On several occasions. She’s a pawn. I need her family’s clout to reach new heights. It’s the same plan we’ve had from the beginning.
“I mean, you married her while she was drugged and out like a light,” he elaborates. “Are you going to tell anyone other than her father that you are married? It might not hold well in the society papers.”
My expression sours as I look at him. “You’ve been talking to Chiyo, haven’t you?” My office assistant, Chiyo, is the best assistant I’ve ever had. She’s a shark dressed as a trout. No one suspects her to have any bite to her until she wants them to. By that time, it’s too late, and she’s already taken a bite out of you.
“I mean…fucking…talking…” He shrugs a shoulder. “Same thing.”
“It honestly isn’t,” I deadpan.
Wataru flips me off, a gesture only the two of them can get away with. I’d kill anyone else for the perceived slight. But these men are my brothers. Just like Adrian and Vitali. They’ve been with me since the beginning. Loyal to my family since their indoctrination into the Yakuza under my father’s reign.
“I’ve talked things over with Gerard,” I answer him, thinking back on the conversation with Evaline’s father. “We will have a full wedding at his hoity-toity country club in one week. Every society member in New Orleans will be attending. The press will be good for both our companies.”
My men nod.
“I don’t trust her not to run again,” Hiro tells me honestly, amusement coloring his words. The fucker still finds it hilarious that the little society princess managed to not only escape the heavily secured church but also evade me completely for the last six months. “She’s hiding something, even if you don’t think so.”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t trust the bakuchiku either. Which is why her wedding ring has a tracker in it and so does that little necklace she never takes off.”
“She’ll still need security,” Hiro warns.
I concur. “Saito is her guard,” I reassure him. “He’ll be with her twenty-four seven, even in the penthouse.”
Wataru laughs. “Make sure to put a lock on your door, boss,” he teases. “Otherwise, she might decide to slit your throat in the middle of the night.”
I grin at him. “Kind of hard to lock her out when she will be sleeping in my bed.” It’s the best way to keep an eye on her. I fed her the line about my gossiping staff, but it was a lie. Everyone under my employment knows better than to gossip or pay attention to things that don’t concern them. That is why I pay them so well. They mind their own fucking business like they should.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Hiro shakes his head. “Might as well stab you right now, boss.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m pretty sure I can defend myself against one little society princess.”
The woman is built to fuck, not kill. Not that I will be doing any fucking of her tight body, anyway. I’m not overly worried about the law of consummation. We will get to that eventually; in the meantime, I will simply show her what she is missing out on. Despite my temper this morning and my hurled insult, if she begged, I would fuck her until all she can do is scream my name like I am her god.
“Don’t underestimate her,” Hiro warms.
Standing up, I nod my head to my second-in-command. “You worry about who tried to have her raped. I’ll worry about my wife.”