Chapter Twenty-Six

Dexter

A week later, Spice Strip Club on Grandee Avenue, Watts, Los Angeles…

“Why the fuck are we here again?” Axel asked as he glanced around furtively. “You didn’t happen to forget we had to hightail it out of here not so long ago? And by the looks some of those bouncers are giving us… they definitely didn’t.”

“Relax, Axel.” Dexter leaned nonchalantly against the bar, ignoring the sidelong looks from the three bouncers. “We’re not here to make trouble. This time, I’m hoping to keep the little shit alive.”

“Ugh, sweet Jesus,” Axel groaned. “As if that should put my mind at ease. Did you forget that the little shit is in bed with Rick The Dark Lord Hampton? Those fuckers are well known for their love of violence and killing.” He chucked down his drink. “I fucking survived five years in jail, so I have no desire to die any time soon because you go looking for shit.”

“Ease up, Axel. I’m not expecting a public shootout, but something is about to go down tonight, and for once, Theo The Slasher Russo isn’t the instigator. To the contrary, we believe he’s being set up, and I’d be damned if I allow that dark devil to win the battle and drag Violet down in the process.”

“Why are you so invested in what Hampton is trying to achieve?” Axel looked at Dexter, Rex, and Jax, who just joined the trio. “Hi, Jax. I can’t believe you allowed your cousin to pull you into this as well.”

“Ah, well, you know the saying,” Jax Crowthorne shrugged, “Blood is thicker than water. My cousin needs me, so I’m there for him. Like he was for me not so long ago.”

“So?” Axel prodded again. “You gonna tell us what’s going on, Dex? Fuck me,” he ended in an exasperated growl when Max DuPont also walked up to the bar. “Not you, too. Don’t tell me. You invited the entire bomb squad as well.”

“Not unless you believe there’s a bomb in the club,” Dexter jested, then had to duck to avoid the fist that Axel aimed at his head.

“You said he’s being set up,” Max interjected. “Set up for what?”

“Rex has been keeping tabs on the dark web chatter, and he also hacked into Theo’s and Hampton’s cell phones to upload a listening and recording app, similar to one he designed last year for the covert CIA team.”

“And you never told us about that, Rex? I could use an app like that myself,” Axel piped up.

“It was done under contract and not for public use.” Rex brushed off the reprimand. “This one is a different and a more advanced application that I am keeping under wraps at the moment. As I was saying, since Dexter had a feeling that something was off in the relationship between Russo and Hampton, we decided to keep tabs on them.”

“Apparently, Theo had no idea that Hampton sent his goon after Violet since he was tasked to warn her off himself, which he did and believed the issue was addressed. From conversations we overheard with his friends, Theo is furious that Hampton overstepped the criminal code by hurting a fellow associate’s female sibling. That’s why we’re here. Hampton’s right-hand man, protector, and assassin, the Russian, Viktor Scrooge Kozlov, is the one who caused the accident… and he’s coming here tonight.” Dexter looked around. “I want a piece of that fuckface myself.”

“Problem is, the conversation we listened to between Hampton and Scrooge indicates he’s coming here specifically to draw Theo out,” Rex said. “The little shit didn’t realize that talk of revenge quickly spread on the streets. Hampton knows he’s gunning for his goon.”

“Why do we care, exactly?” Axel asked. “Don’t get me wrong, Dex. I get that he’s your woman’s brother, but he’s a mafioso. If there’s one thing I learned behind bars, it’s that you never interfere with street gangs and mafia or drug syndicate wars.”

“There’s more to the story that involves her entire family. Hampton—”

“Russo just arrived,” Rex interjected with his eyes on the surfer-like young man. “He means business.”

“Yeah, no sluts sucking his dick tonight. He looks quite intense.” Axel took a sip from his fresh drink. “Much more like the criminal we know he is.”

“Where’s Violet tonight, Dex?” Jax asked as he watched Theo settle on the far side of the bar. He knew how protective Dexter was over her.

“She’s having dinner with her mother at Carlos Dubois’ restaurant. She felt she had to offer her the opportunity to explain why she supported a decision her brother, Tag, and her father had made that, to her, should be abhorrent to a mother.” Dexter straightened as Theo’s gaze clashed with his. “Sophia Russo would have a swarm of bodyguards in the immediate surroundings, so she’d be safe. I also asked Carlos to keep an eye on Violet, and he’ll take her home afterward.”

“Heads up. Russo is coming over,” Max’s voice trumped quietly.

“If you’re here again to beat me up, don’t waste your energy,” Theo said upfront as he stopped in front of Dexter. “I had nothing to do with Violet’s accident, but I know who did, and that fucktard is going to pay the price tonight for hurting my big sis.”

“Hmm,” Dexter’s one brow twitched upward. “How’s that going to affect your working relationship with your new best buddy, Rick Hampton?”

Theo paled and looked around furtively. “How the fuck do you know about that?” His voice lowered. “More importantly, did you flap your lips to Violet about it?” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is fucked up. You just royally fucked everything up with your incessant interference, Flint. You should stick to your grand office and lunches with your rich associates. You are bound to get yourself killed sticking your nose into business you have no place being.”

“No? I have to disagree. See, you and your new bestie are the ones who forced my interference, or are you truly that naive not to realize that setting up fake financial deposit trails wouldn’t have been flagged by The World Bank’s forensic team?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Theo looked around with growing agitation.

“I think you do, or maybe you just didn’t realize how far Hampton would go in his quest to destroy your family.” Dexter stabbed a finger against his chest. “Did you honestly think he wouldn’t push through with his plan once he realized you had seen through his facade?”

“You’re talking in riddles,” Theo huffed while keeping an eye on the entrance. He was clearly eager for Scrooge to arrive.

“Hampton isn’t stupid, Theo. You haven’t been back to see him since you found out he issued the order to warn off Violet. Yeah, I know about that, too, and that he’s been reaching out to you daily, and you’re ignoring his calls.” Dexter leaned closer and all but spat in his face. “Here’s the kicker, Theo. He won’t let you walk away because unless he has you in the bag, his entire plan will fail. His claws are in you, and that’s the reason for Scrooge coming out of the woodwork tonight. Did you stop for one moment to ask yourself why? That Russian bastard never hangs out at strip clubs or bars. Why would he come here? I’ll tell you why. He’s the bait, and once you’ve caught the hook, Hampton will have you exactly where he wants you. In his fucking tank of sharks. A tiny sardine waiting to be gobbled up… along with your entire family.”

“There’s one major flaw in your summation, Flint,” Theo spat. “I’m not a sardine. We, the Russos, are the fucking piranhas who will snap and devour the biggest shark, aka anyone who puts a hand on our mother and sister. I might have been blind to Hampton’s true goals at first, but I haven’t been for a while.

“In the end, in the mafia world, family always comes first. They’re blood, and the ones who will fight for you even if you momentarily lost the way… like I did. Tag made me realize I fucked up, and now they are behind me.” He smirked. “Did you honestly think I came here alone? I might be the youngest of the clan, but I’m not stupid. I knew Hampton was up to something.”

“Well, that’s good because the motherfucker just arrived,” Dexter said between clenched teeth. He recognized the bulky frame of the man at the entrance as the one he had watched over and over on the CCTV footage when he had approached Violet in the crashed car to threaten her.

“Back off, Flint,” Theo snarled when he realized Dexter’s intent. “He’s mine. Violet’s our sister. It’s a Russo family matter, and we will take care of him.”

Violet

Eveleigh Restaurant, Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood, California…

The rustic charm of Eveleigh’s converted farmhouse embraced Violet and Sophia as Carlos Dubois personally led them through the intimate dining space. Exposed wooden beams crossed the ceiling, while Edison bulbs cast a warm, honey-colored glow across weathered brick walls. The evening air drifted in through the open-air dining section, carrying with it the gentle perfume of blooming jasmine from the garden.

“Ladies, I’ve saved you our best table,” Carlos announced with a theatrical flourish, gesturing to a corner spot on the outdoor terrace overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. “The view’s almost as beautiful as my food... almost.”

Violet laughed, already familiar with Carlos’ playful arrogance. “I don’t know, Carlos. That view’s pretty tough competition.”

“Ah, but can the view make your taste buds dance?” He winked as he pulled out chairs for both women. “Wait until you try tonight’s special. Slow-braised short ribs with a red wine reduction that took three days to perfect.”

“Hmm, that sounds decadent,” Violet cooed.

As if on cue, a server passed by with a plate of Carlos’ signature dish. The rich, caramelized aroma of meat and herbs wafted through the air.

Sophia closed her eyes appreciatively. “Oh my,” she breathed. “Now I see why my daughter was so insistent we dine here tonight.”

“Ah, of course!” Carlos raised an eyebrow at Violet. “This is the famous mother I’ve read so much about. Your vineyard is world-renowned, Mrs. Russo. We are honored to be among the selected ones to stock your wines.” He winked at Violet. “As for Violet, she has become one of my most cherished critics, though I suspect it has less to do with my culinary genius and more to do with a certain sommelier.”

“A certain sommelier? I’m afraid I don’t follow…” Sophia glanced questioningly at Violet.

She chose not to indulge her mother since she hadn’t told them about her relationship with Dexter, nor did she intend to.

The kitchen doors swung open, releasing a heavenly medley of sizzling garlic, fresh herbs, and roasting meats. The sound of skilled knives against cutting boards provided a rhythmic undertone to the buzzing conversation throughout the restaurant.

“Speaking of your culinary genius,”—Violet redirected her mother’s attention to save herself from her probing further—“what’s that amazing smell coming from the kitchen?”

“Ah!” Carlos’s eyes lit up as they always did when someone showed appreciation for his food. “That would be my new autumn menu experiment. Wild mushroom and truffle risotto. Perhaps I could be persuaded to let you lovely ladies be my test subjects?”

“Only if you join us for a glass of wine,” Sophia countered, clearly at home in the warm atmosphere. “I want to hear all about how you and my daughter became friends.”

Carlos placed his hand over his heart. “Now, that is a story worth sharing, but I’m afraid it’s impossible.” He gestured around. “As usual, we’re fully booked for three settings, so I’m needed in the kitchen. However, I will personally select the perfect pairing of wine for you from the cellar.”

“Of course,” Sophia said. “I completely understand.”

As Carlos departed with a flourish, Violet caught her mother’s eyes across the table.

“Don’t even try that trick, Mother. You know why we’re here, and it’s not to discuss Carlos Dubois.”

“I so looked forward to a relaxing evening with you, Violet.” Sophia gracefully refolded the serviette as her gaze drifted through the restaurant. “For once, I just want to spend some quality time with my daughter and forget about all the cold realities of life.”

Violet suppressed the empath inside her to give in to her mother’s plight. She had only agreed to this dinner for one reason—to establish whether her mother had become as cold and power-driven as her father.

“I’m afraid we’re at a crossroads in our relationship, Mother.” Violet noticed Sophia starting. She always called her Mom, and she had deliberately switched to the formal format to send a message.

“Do we really have to dredge up the conflict between your brothers and father in our relationship, darling? You and I aren’t part of what goes on with them. Let’s not—”

“I might not be, but you sure as hell are,” Violet snapped, angry that Sophia continued to attempt to absolve herself from the scene after the fight between Theo and Tag.

“You will not talk to me like that, Violet. I am still your mother.”

“Well,” Violet said in a stern voice, “that remains to be seen.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?”

“You made it very clear that Tag and Father saying Theo will be disposed of was a decision you would support. You didn’t even offer one word of protest at the time. What happened to you, Mother? Have you truly become as hungry for power and money as the rest of the Russo clan?”

“You haven’t been around for fifteen years, Violet. You have no idea the kind of life I’ve lived. The sacrifices I’ve had to make to ensure the vineyard thrived while the family business remained a secret to the world out there.” She blinked, and for a moment, Violet saw regret in her eyes. “It’s a hard life with harsh rules. Your brother knew it, and he still chose to betray us for the empty promise of power he is too young to understand or cope with.”

“And instead of guiding him back on the right path, you all unanimously voted to just kill him.” Violet shook her head. “No matter the spin you try to put on it, Mother, that’s the bottom line. Your own flesh and blood… your youngest child, and you just don’t give a flying fuck, as long as the family business remained a secret to the world out there. ”

“This entire conversation is moot, darling. Your brother has come to his senses and returned to his position in the Gragna Mafia. All is well, so you can get off your high horse. Nothing is going to happen to him.”

Violet stared at her mother across the candlelit table, watching as her last shred of hope crumbled like ash. The warm, intimate atmosphere of Eveleigh now felt stifling, almost mocking in its comfort. How naive she’d been, clinging to childhood memories of a nurturing mother—one who now sat before her, fully immersed in the family’s darkness.

The flickering shadows cast by the Edison bulbs seemed to dance across Sophia’s features, highlighting an unfamiliar hardness Violet had refused to acknowledge before. Her mother’s casual dismissal of the threat against her youngest child and her blind acceptance of the family’s criminal empire were all there, written in every elegant gesture and carefully chosen word.

“I’m glad for you.” Violet looked around and noticed her mother’s bodyguard, Xavier, moving with barely contained urgency between the tables. His eyes never stopped scanning the entrance, the kitchen doors, and the other diners. One hand kept straying to his concealed weapon. The movement might have seemed casual to others but spoke volumes to Violet’s trained eye. She’d recognized his vigilance the moment he’d appeared but had stubbornly dismissed it, just as she’d dismissed Dexter’s constant nagging about her need to rest. Her gaze drifted back to her mother. “I lost my appetite, so I’m going home. You’re welcome to—”

“Don’t be obtuse, darling. I just told you that—” Sophia’s words cut off as Xavier materialized beside their table. His presence radiated tension. “You better have a good reason to interrupt my dinner with my daughter, Xavier,” she told him acerbically.

“My apologies, but Mr. Russo just phoned and insisted I bring you home,” Xavier responded in a low, carefully controlled voice. “Apparently, he received a threat against both of you. He wants you home where you will be protected.”

“You go ahead. I’m safe here,” Violet said as relief flooded her at the excuse to escape this farce of a dinner.

“I’m afraid you’re not, Miss Russo. The Boss was very specific. If the two of you aren’t out of this restaurant within five minutes, it’s going to be blown up.” Xavier’s grip on Sophia’s arm was swift and firm. Her mother, showing the first real emotion of the evening, grabbed Violet’s wrist with surprising strength.

“Mother! Let go,” Violet grated through clenched teeth. She barely managed to snag her sling bag as she was pulled from her chair, more than aware that their exit caused heads to turn throughout the restaurant.

The SUV’s tires screamed against the asphalt as Xavier accelerated down Sunset Boulevard, taking corners with practiced precision.

“Is it really necessary to drive like a maniac?” Violet snapped as she watched the city lights blur past. Her heart pounded wildly as reality finally and brutally sank in. This wasn’t some elaborate manipulation. Whoever had threatened George Lucky Russo was cruel enough to blow up an entire restaurant filled with innocent people.

Rick Hampton! It had to be him. Fucking hell, how am I in the middle of this? The life she’d spent fifteen years running from crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Blood. It always came down to blood. She had tried so hard to be different, but here she sat, in an armored vehicle with her mother, running from threats she had convinced herself would never touch her world.

The Russo blood in her veins no longer felt like something she could simply ignore or deny. It was a curse—an inescapable destiny that had finally caught up with her.