Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals) Page 16

  Ms. Stephanie stepped between us, breaking the uncomfortable eye contact, and I half followed her to the desk. But she didn’t go behind it so much as lean against it. “Liam, have you seen Jonathon and Mary at the group home the last couple of weeks?”

  “Sure,” I answered. It was automatic. Lots of people came through. Milo was right about ignoring most of them. I got the routine—they looked, but they didn’t want us, the older kids. The broken ones. We were the ones who were stuck in place. That was fine…

  “We’ve been watching you,” Mary said, moving to perch on the chair closest to me. Soft floral scents tickled my nose, and I resisted the urge to sneeze. She seemed like a really nice lady. “Oh, hell—Crap!” Redness bloomed in her cheeks, and she put a hand over her mouth like she was horrified.

  Mr. O’Connell appeared to be struggling not to laugh. I didn’t fight it. That was funny. Adults acted like they didn’t cuss all the time. Like it was some secret language we kids weren’t supposed to even know yet. I hated to fucking break it to her. I pretty much knew every single word. Even cunt. Thank you, Jasper, for that one. He knew a lot of good ones.

  Mary’s face relaxed, though the pink in her cheeks was in high bloom. She really was a nice lady. The smile in her eyes was nice. “Sorry, I’m excited.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, automatic at this point. “I can cuss already, so it’s not new to me.”

  It was her turn to laugh, and she shot a look up at her husband before she glanced back at me. “You are a charmer.”

  “Sure,” I agreed with a nod. Not sure what I was being charming about, but why not. “See, Jonathon, I told you. He’s got a wonderful sense of humor.”

  I shifted on my feet and rubbed the back of my neck. It gave me an excuse to look at Ms. Stephanie. She still seemed awfully unhappy. We’d done something like this a month earlier. Me and Rome both that time, though Rome had just stayed silent the whole time. He didn’t like strangers. I covered easily enough.

  “He does,” her husband said, but he studied me with a wrinkled brow. “Tell me, Liam—It’s all right if we call you Liam, yes?”

  “That’s my name.” Liam Darragh Cleary. The one thing I owned that was mine. That and my brother. We were the matched set. Mary bit her lip at my response as though trying to hold back her smile, though she failed. I waited a couple of extra seconds before I tacked on a, “I mean, yes, sir.”

  Jonathon chuckled. “You’ve got spirit, young man. You really do.” Then he moved closer to Mary’s chair. “And we’ve got an offer for you. We’re hoping you’ll take us up on it.”

  “Okay.” I stretched the word out. A string of unease plucked in the back of my mind. The discordant chord had me backing up a single step. I wanted to be able to see Ms. Stephanie’s face. Whatever their offer was, she didn’t like it.

  “It’s not an offer so much as… We applied to adopt you,” Mary said, and everything inside of me chilled.

  “What?” I jerked my head to look at Ms. Stephanie. They’d been discussing my adoption, and she was against it.

  Adopted.

  The word floated around inside of me like dust in a sunbeam, aimless and uncertain.

  “Why?” I couldn’t hold back that syllable. I didn’t know them. Why did they want us? “Are you telling me so I’ll talk to Rome?”

  A split second later, understanding hit me.

  Mary glanced at her husband, even as she bit her lip, and his expression tensed briefly. But the unhappiness in Ms. Stephanie’s eyes explained everything.

  They didn’t want Rome.

  Chapter 16

  Liam

  My face still ached a couple of days later. The bruises from Jasper’s fists had bloomed on my side and around my jaw. Not the worst I’d ever had and certainly not anything that would slow me down. Rome had been circumspect when I checked in with him the next day.

  Well, circumspect might be generous. All he’d said was fine. That word held so many meanings that he could have meant anything from the damn clubhouse was on fire to he had another fucking knife wound. No, the verbiage didn’t tell me shit. The speed at which he’d answered did.

  He’d ignored me for a solid hour. Then answered.

  My other half was irritated with me. That was fine. He could be irked with me all he liked. It was still my fucking apartment, and if he’d brought Hellspawn here to get laid, all he had to do was send me a message, then I wouldn’t have let anyone up here.

  At the moment, I ran on the treadmill, watching the sun rise in the distance. The speed amped up with every mile, so did the incline. I alternated my workouts between interval training and pure cardio. I needed endurance.

  Period.

  Music blasted through the apartment, the thrumming beat a good accompaniment to push me. My phone buzzed in the holder, and I spared it a look.

  Ambrose.

  He could fucking wait.

  The Bay Ridge Royal lieutenant had been up my ass all week about next week’s event. I had it handled, but he was a fucking micromanager. I’d like to micromanage his balls and knock them up into his throat. But that wouldn’t be politic.

  A fact that kept him from being gelded daily.

  I focused my attention back out the window. No, I had other problems to work on today. One that I’d been turning over in my head for the last forty-eight hours. A problem spelled Hellspawn.

  Rome’s feelings on the diminutive subject were quite clear. Jasper would be a problem. If I had to clear that ground, I would. Kestrel’s interest was crystal clear too. Her presence was creating all kinds of disruption. Worse, I was here and not where I could keep an eye on her.

  She definitely required keeping an eye on.

  I was no closer to a solution by the time I finished my run than I’d been when I started. By the time I had a protein shake in one hand and the news pulled up on my phone, the first inklings of a plan began to form.

  The pair of bounty hunters—or should I say would-be-bounty-hunters?—who’d showed up at Kestrel’s. That couldn’t be a one off. So what had Little Miss Hellspawn done to earn that kind of attention? Curious, I scrolled through my schedule. I had a couple of meetings lined up. I had time after to hit the cop shop and put out some feelers.

  After I pulled on my gun belt and secured the shoulder holster, I tugged a jacket over it. I didn’t go unarmed to business meetings. Just not a good idea.

  I sent a text back to Rome. Every day, rain or shine, no matter what the fuck was going on, I sent him a message. Sometimes he answered. Sometimes he ignored me.

  Me: Does she like roses?

  The answer came within seconds.

  A middle finger emoji.

  Love you too, bro.

  Still chuckling, I pocketed the phone, snagged my jacket, and headed out. The day flew by. Rome hadn’t said anything else, and the other Vandals remained dead ass silent. Then, I’d only actually heard from Kestrel once in the last year, and that was after Rome had been stabbed.

  They better fucking call me if something happened to him. I was dead to them for the most part these days, and I could live with being a ghost. But Rome and I had been separated enough. The system couldn’t keep us apart, and I wasn’t about to let anyone else.

  The first meeting of the day took an hour. The accountant was a short guy with glasses, male-pattern baldness, and balls big enough to take me on without flinching. Today, he was all about taxes, interest, and diversifying. I listened more than he probably thought.

  I also read all of his reports. The man was honest. Direct. He was worth the twelve percent I paid him. Enough to keep his hand out of the till and not enough to matter to my bottom line.

  Apparently, we’d made more money this month than expected. The windfall was nice. I could use that to invest. Still, by the time I parted ways with Curtis, I was already sick of numbers. I cut across town. My second meeting was in 19 Diamonds territory with Meeks. The man was an asshole, but if I wanted to get access to Juan Ricardo, I had to ma
ke nice with Meeks.

  Wallace Meeks was a dick. He’d earned the name Deuce because he was basically a pile of shit, no matter why he thought he had the name. That he was an enforcer for the 19Ds rather than an actual shot caller didn’t matter. If I wanted to get to Ricardo, I had to go through him.

  I’d been negotiating deals for months between the Bay Ridge Royals and the 19 Diamonds. The rough peace between the two gangs worked more like a minefield of unstable personalities armed to the teeth.

  Good times.

  The bar they’d set the meetup for was called the Blue Diamond. Not very original. The titty bar opened right at lunchtime and actually offered a buffet of meat, potatoes, beer, and boobs. All the boobs. Even the waitresses were topless.

  The girl who took me to my seat had a pair of double Ds with blackberry-colored nipples on tight display. She moved ahead of me, the thong barely covering her shaved snatch, and her ass had just a hint of jiggle as she moved. The thick, full pouty lips would look mighty fine wrapped around my cock while she looked up at me with those liquid brown eyes.

  She was every inch my type, and my dick didn’t remotely give a fuck.

  Honestly, my dick probably had a point—business before distractions.

  Even sweet, curved distractions that leaned over me as I took a seat and brushed one of those breasts right against my cheek. All I had to do was shift, and I could suck that nipple against my teeth. My dick didn’t even twitch.

  “What would you like?” An offer for anything I wanted seemed to populate her tone. Pretty sure if I invited her to get on her knees, she would be right there.

  I pressed a light kiss to the curve of her breast and tucked a fifty into her thong. “Just bring me a beer, sweet cheeks, another smile, and we’re good.”

  I could have let my hand linger. I could have traced a line along her thong. I mean, she positively dripped “fuck me” energy, but nope. My dick passed on that buffet offer. She gave me a saucy wink and a pouty smile before sauntering off. I’d arrived before Meeks, and I’d taken a table near the far side of the horseshoe-shaped main platform.

  There were three other poles and stages in the room, but they were close to the door. In this situation, it was better to have my back against a wall. My bike jacket rested over the back of the chair, and I stretched my legs out like I had all the time in the world.

  The music changed, and a new dancer strutted out on the stage to catch the pole and swing herself around. She was in all fringe and very little else. Pretty sure the thong she wore was more a suggestion than actual fabric. The muscles in those thighs flexed as she climbed the pole and then flipped herself around.

  My beer arrived with another offer of company. Double Ds straddled my leg and did a slow roll of her hips. I let my gaze drift over her appreciatively. More because a man sitting in a titty bar ignoring the titty got noticed. I peeled another fifty off from the cash in my pocket and slid it down her chest until she thrust her hips upward, and I folded it right over the V covering her pussy.

  “Thanks, babe,” I murmured. “I’m good.”

  She dipped her gaze to my crotch and I could almost taste her disappointment. My dick, however, remained indifferent. Picky little fucker. I took a long pull from the cold bottle. An image of disheveled dark brown hair, warm, almost whiskey-colored eyes with sleep rumpled cheeks and a crease along her face from Rome’s shirt flicked through my brain, and my dick stirred.

  Yeah.

  I slammed the door shut on that for now and focused on where I was and what I was doing. One full beer and two full sets of dancers later, Meeks strolled through the door of the club. The fucker was an hour late, and I was the schmuck sitting here waiting.

  He grinned in my direction as he and his little cohort made their entrance. The man had at least a half-dozen low-level bully boys with him. And that was what they were—bullies. The 19 Diamonds had been an upstart gang that moved into Braxton Harbor a little under five years earlier, and they’d been making noise.

  Three years ago, they’d started making moves.

  Now they were out growing the little patch of territory they’d claimed and wanted to push into other areas. They wanted more than smuggled cigarettes and tax-free booze along with pimping out their whores and the sex clubs they’d been opening.

  Sex clubs that were bad for business across the whole of the Harbor. Because they’d started offering any kink a person could afford, including—if the rumors were true—snuff. That was just bad for business. But people came and went. The missing in the Harbor were nothing new, nor were the drug addicts and the whores.

  Meeks took his time crossing the bar. The swagger in his step didn’t match the watchfulness in his eyes or the fact he still sported bandages on his hand. Reattachment surgery really had come a long way. The same girl who brought me my beer brought me a second and one for Meeks.

  He took a handful of her ass and bit down on her neck. She arched her whole body like she enjoyed the attention. The fact there were teeth marks on her flesh and her gaze never shifted from mine didn’t seem to matter to him. He slapped one of her breasts, then dragged her mouth to his for a brutal kiss.

  Bored, I glanced at my watch more to let her get away from the groping than because I really had other places to be. Meeks chuckled, and he took her chin in his hand.

  “Give us ten minutes, then get us a room. I want my cock in that mouth.”

  She dipped her eyes in acquiescence, but it didn’t quite hide her shudder of revulsion. He didn’t miss it either. He slapped her breast and then cupped her pussy.

  “Do a good job, and I’ll fuck you nice and hard here. Don’t, and it’s the ass. Got it?”

  “You’ll like what my mouth can do, baby,” she promised him in a breathy voice, and I kicked out a chair, aiming it to hit him in the thigh right next to the obscene boner he sported.

  Meeks grunted and glared at me.

  “Pocket your dick and sit down, or fuck off. I’ve wasted enough time on your shit today.” I met his stare, unimpressed. “Three…”

  Amusingly enough, I didn’t even have to hit two before he released her and waved her away before he sat. “Didn’t take you for such a cockblocker, O’Connell.”

  “Don’t recall giving a fuck one way or the other,” I responded and ignored her look of gratitude as she hurried away. She probably shouldn’t be so happy that I helped. This dickhead would probably take it out on her later. I couldn’t afford to care.

  Not right now.

  He snorted a grunt of laughter like we were friends.

  We were not.

  His guys ranged out around the room, watching his back and the door. The paranoia was strong with this one. In fact, it was worse than it had ever been in the past.

  Jasper had that effect on people.

  “Well, I’m here,” Meeks said before he took a long drink of his beer. I didn’t bother sipping mine. One was enough, and I was working. “What did you want?”

  “Stop starting shit with the Vandals.”

  His bottle crashed to the tabletop. “Are you fucking with me right now, rich boy? You fucking cocksuckers deal in yachts and imported pussy. The Vandals are Harbor business and no concern of yours.”

  I ignored all of that. What the Bay Ridge Royals did was not his concern. Nor where their interests lay. “Did I stutter? Gang war is bad for business.”

  With a snort of derision, he flexed his hand around the bottle. The skull face tattoo he’d been adding to his scalp pulsed as though it was as pissed as he was. “What fucking business do you have with them? Is this about your retard brother?”

  Ignoring the bait, I kept my expression bland. “You’re replaceable, Deuce, don’t forget that. Juan Ricardo needs this deal with us more than he needs you.”

  The sudden flare of his nostrils confirmed that opinion.

  “If you like, I can just set up the call with him. I’m doing you a courtesy. Stay out of Vandals’ business and stop picking fights with them.”
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br />   “Or what?” Meeks demanded, seeming to find his balls, or maybe he lost what was left of his marbles. It was debatable.

  “Well, we’ll start with the three hundred percent tax that will be added to all your incoming shipments for the next three months.”

  He paled.

  I glanced around the club. “And this bar.”

  “What about it?”

  “I’ll take it too.” I hadn’t intended to, but fuck him. “You and your boys will leave, or you’ll pay the going rate plus three hundred percent.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” It came out edged in fear.

  “We can take more.” For the most part, the Bay Ridge Royals used the Harbor as a launching point for businesses elsewhere. But they had a lot of resources—resources I had access to, and I was their fixer here. The 19 Diamonds needed fixing.

  He slammed back the full beer, then set the bottle on the table. Raising a hand for the waitress, he snarled, “Fine. We’ll leave them alone. We only have one small piece of business left.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “It’s not your concern.”

  I chuckled softly, and he shot me a look. The whites of his eyes were very visible. “You want to try that answer again.”

  The waitress brought him another beer, and he reached out to grab her.

  “Three hundred percent,” I reminded him, and his hand froze just inches from her. “And if she says no, I’ll cut your balls off if you keep reaching for her.”

  The waitress jerked her eyes to me, and Meeks closed his hand into a fist. Had to hurt from the way the blood drained from his knuckles and his jaw clicked as he ground his teeth together.

  “Fuck off,” he told the waitress and spun to face me fully. Well, well, it was about time the dick started paying attention.

  I ignored her look of gratitude as she obeyed and kept my attention on Meeks.

  “What’s that last piece of business?”

  He really didn’t want to tell me, but he couldn’t find a way around it. What he had to say, I really didn’t like.