Chapter 8

Eight

Mirsha

I have every intention of walking out of The Gilded Key tonight as its new owner. Well, one-third owner. Everything I touch, I share with my two best friends. We tried buying this place three years back, but after the fallout with Aster and her father, we left the country for a while.

But now we are back.

Italy was nice. Mexico has some of the best damn tequila a man can lose his senses on. And you haven't lived unless you've consumed Raki in a Turkish bathhouse.

We thought distance would break the ties we have with Aster but it's only made it worse and I can't take much more booze before my liver dies, taking me along with it.

We've been back stateside for a little over a month. The urge to break down her father's prison door, steal his daughter and take her captive like fucking animals only plagues my mind half the day. The other half is used for sleeping or chasing down the owners of this place to complete the deal.

I know beyond any doubt, Viper won't fucking sleep until it's ours. So here I am, wishing I could be anywhere else. Thousands of miles or a few hundred doesn't matter. But now there aren't borders or oceans to keep me in check. It's been three years since tasting her lips on mine and it's worse than getting lost in the desert. My chest tightens at the knowledge and I swallow down the dry sand of loneliness with another mouthful of bourbon.

"You can glower in that window all you want. I told you why we have to close this deal. It's the only part of her we have. I want it. You two fuckers can go drown your pitiful asses at the bottom of a bourbon bottle later. After I get your names on the sale contract."

I raise my glass and down the rest of my top-self Kentucky Straight. It kicks, burns and then mellows as it hits the back of my throat.

"He's in a particular mood tonight, isn't he, Mirsha?"

My gaze glides across the room to Luther lounging on a nearby couch, his arm thrown across the back. He balances his drink on his knee. We've holed up for the last week in The Gilded Key. I'm starting to think of this suite as a prison rather than a fantasy land. It's been a constant back and forth between the owners and their intermediary, Raja.

"It's better than it was when we were in Mexico. He was a miserable fucker then. Now he's just being a pain in the ass."

Viper isn't listening to us though. He has his phone out and pulls up the number of the broker working the buyout deal.

"Raja. Any word?" From what we hear, he does everything from filling the club's performance stages with new talent to luring in new members. He helped a few friends of ours up in Seattle land a gig that ended with them getting a Constantine girl knocked up. It all turned out with no dead bodies, but marrying the enemy must have them sleeping with one eye open. It hasn't escaped my knowledge that she's a cousin of Aster's and when a Constantine feels slighted, there is hell to pay. But things have changed since the head of the Constantine family got life in prison and the son stepped into his role. Drake must have loved getting passed over in favor of his older brother's son. Taking orders from his nephew must burn.

Back in the day Aster's father, Drake, fought for us despite the fact that Constantines are not known for sharing. Carving a nook out for the Moretti family took grit, blood, and money. Thirty percent of anything we raked in to be exact.

Drake hated we had to pay anything to his family, but it's the price of doing business. A couple of decades into our lives, he got married and had a kid. Everything was fine until the forbidden fruit became irresistible. Now her father will put a bullet in our heads the second we cross into his hometown territory. That might scare other people into behaving and walking a tight line, but we stay away for her. Her father is a petty bastard. None of us cared at first.

And then a friend turned into an enemy within a night. She doesn't know how close she came to losing her father the night he found us together.

But Drake was right about us being wrong for her. We left to keep him from making her life a living hell.

Viper raises his gaze to me like he knows the acid in my gut is churning. His eyes narrow. "You are thinking too loud."

Viper moves from his chair to stand beside me. His hand on my shoulder is welcome. Right now, I can't tell if it's him needing human connection or him offering it. All the senses and emotions are a ball of tangled yarn with no way of unraveling.

Drake hated the connection I share with Luther and Viper. He said we were full of shit and crazy. I believed him until I kissed Aster. Then I knew magic existed. An Australian shaman described it as ties through time and space that connect me with a twin flame. In this case three flames. She warned if we ever try to sever the connection, death would follow for everyone. It explains people dying from broken hearts, I guess.

I go to the bar and crack open another bottle, feeling way too sober for my current mood.

"Anything?" I ask, pointing at the Viper's cell phone. There's been a lot of back and forth getting the elusive owners to meet us on a price even though they are the ones who came to us to buy them out. They have one here in New Orleans and another in Seattle. We want both and have enough cash to back up the purchase. We even have a few gold bars tucked away if they want to jack up the price we are offering.

Eighty-five million seems like a fair price for an old mansion with pretty gardens and fancy chandeliers. After factoring in the value of the members and the commodities offered to them, we all agreed on a number. Truth be told, I will give them the contents of our combined bank accounts if it helps Viper find a level of peace.

I can at least understand how Viper's heart pulls him back here. It's where he claimed her and where I let all this go too far.

Just give me a nice graveyard and I'll be happy enough. It won't be long before my body gives out at this rate.

Viper ends the call and tucks his phone into his front pocket.

"Nothing?"

He shakes his head. "Says he'll call back."

"You set up a meeting with the Belladonnas for moving the gold?"

Viper nods. "The head of that particular snake wants to meet and greet before they do any introductions to their fences."

Ivy, the leader of the guild of thieves is cunning, manipulative and fiercely loyal to anyone she deems a friend. Hopefully we can score a face to face, get our gold moved and refill our bank accounts before we drain them to buy this place.

"Timing might be dicey."

Viper grunts his agreement.

I swallow a good mouthful and refill my glass. I hold the bottle out to Luther, who does the same for Viper and himself. Forty-nine years isn't tombstone age. But my soul has taken a beating and the weight of feeling her and not being able to touch her, kiss her, or even see her is slowly killing me.

I've never felt another person's pain, fear and joy before Aster. Or pleasure. My skin prickles with invisible energy just thinking about her. Dark sensations turn into darker wishes. A voice in my head says to take what I want, but ruining her isn't the answer, either.

"You okay, brother?"

Luther is the sensitive one while Viper is the balls-to-the-wall type. He cares too much and lets emotions drive him. Luther likes to take his time and think things through. He notices shifts in the atmosphere and is perceptive.

We all balance each other out somehow, but it's Luther that makes sure we don't off ourselves.

"Yeah, why?"

"You're looking pensive tonight."

Age has worn me down. There's no escaping the hint of silver at my temples or the weight of not having her in our lives. Every day that goes by, I feel like I age five more. I've kept myself in shape, taking my anger and stress out on iron in the gym, but my soul is tired. In all honesty, I don't know how much longer there is for me.

I brace a hand on Luther's shoulder, my glass in the other. "After we secure this deal, I'm going to go away for a while. Being here is giving the dark voices in my head bad ideas."

Understanding eyes turn to me. We stand at the same height and have almost the same build. Growing up and coming through the ranks of my father's criminal empire, everyone thought we were brothers. Truth is, we are. Not by blood, but by life experiences.

Drake joined our band of fucked up boys when our dads struck a deal over some arms deal that eventually fell through. The senior men parted ways, while we boys grew closer. Viper was the last to join our trio.

He held a gun to my head one night when we were all about fifteen and said he was sorry but had to kill me or his stepfather would kill him.

I didn't hold it against him. I would have done the same thing. It's always better when it's the other guy and not you, right?

With Luther's gun to his head and Viper's pressed to mine, we all faced a conundrum. So I made him an offer. Spare me and we would work to take down his step-father.

An hour later, we were best friends and his power-hungry stepfather looking to take down my father by killing his son was no longer an issue.

And then Drake got married and had a daughter. It was fine until she came into her womanhood and then this dark fusion of energy happened.

Luther considers me through the reflection of the large window in front of us. Beyond the glass, barely dressed club members enjoy themselves openly without fear of living out their fantasies. But Luther's gaze isn't seeing anything other than my tortured expression. "What's your plan?"

Kill Drake, kidnap his daughter, and then live happily ever after. Cause a war that will span border to border. go down in a blaze of rage and fire.

"Go back to Rio, maybe. I like the heat and the slow pace."

"Do you ever?—"

I shake my head and cut in. I already know what he's going to say. "We are not good for her. We weren't back then and now, much less. We left her. She won't ever want to see our faces again, and Drake will see us under six feet of dirt if we try. Do we want to risk him hurting her to get back at us?"

"You think he would hurt his own girl? I know big talk but actually fucking kill his own flesh and blood?"

I grunt with disgust. "Would you risk her life to find out?" I ask.

We are animals, mother fuckers who don't blink at ending life when the men staring down the barrel of our guns deserve their ending. But we have lines. Drake does not. "Do you remember what he did to the daughter of the rival family moving in on his territory when Aster was about twelve?"

"He had no remorse at delivering the body of the poor thing who looked just like his daughter," Viper cuts in from behind us.

Viper leans his weight against the frame of a door and crosses his arms over an expansive chest. His chin juts high and you would never know that he got wasted last night to the point of passing out to help dull the pain.

He smoothed out his long black hair and made sure his jawline was clean and his clothes were wrinkle-free. But I know the man and one look at the swirling storms in his golden eyes tells me he's hurting just as deeply as Luther and myself.

He's a few years younger than me, but a few years behind bars a decade and a half ago does things to a man's soul. Creases have appeared along his forehead to match mine and I haven't missed the ones on either side of his eyes. Age gets us all, but the three of us wear it well.

He can put up a great front, but my friend lives in a constant state of anxiety over Aster.

"He put a bullet in the girl's head, let his enforcers do things no man should do with a corpse all before he dressed her like a doll before sending her body home as a message."

Viper's animalistic growl claws up my spine and the beast in me wants to roar alongside him.

It takes a lot of effort to keep from falling down a rabbit hole of guilt for not being in the country at the time to keep it from happening. I nod slowly and stay focused. "That's the one. So yes, I believe Drake would hurt Aster."

"We should have offed him then and a lot more people would be alive and happy. Including us. When Drake's brother went to prison and Harlon took over, something broke in Drake's brain. He was already fucking nuts, but?—"

Viper's phone rings, cutting him off. A minute later he hangs up and reaches for his suit jacket from the back of a chair. "We're on."

"About fucking time," I curse, ready for this night to end so I can get to the bottom of my bourbon bottle.

I finish my glass and follow my crew out the door.

Women in everything from latex dresses that look painted on to others wearing heels and nothing else are everywhere I look. Every scent imaginable permeates the halls and large ballrooms where shows are being performed. The Society's version of Rio's Carnival is in full swing. Theme night sounds fun, but I want to sign on the dotted line, hand over the cash, and leave Viper to mourn Aster under the willow tree.

"Hey, Mr. Moretti. Alone again tonight?"

A server moves toward me. She's everything this place sells. Sex and sin. Black feathers fan both sides of her face from a mask hiding her identity. Glitter covers most of her body like it is an acceptable alternative to clothing and long legs end in a pair of stilettos.

"Are you finally joining in the festivities tonight?" She glides up to me and presses her body along my side. Hints of jasmine and honey hit my senses and take me back to Aster, and I suddenly feel the urge to sink to my knees.

This woman has no idea the suffering her touch causes.

I put my hands on her hips and gently guide her toward Viper, who looks at me like he doesn't know what to do with a woman.

"Ms. Sampson, I think you have some members in need of fresh drinks." Viper ushers her in one direction while we continue on toward the back of the club where the head offices are. A security guard passes us through a set of locked doors.

It's like stepping into a Faraday cage. Metal clicks behind us and the silence is fucking fantastic. On this side of the door, another server greets us, wearing all her clothes.

"Mr. Builtworthe will be here shortly. He's asked me to show you to his office. Follow me."

Clad in fishnet, leather and feathers, the blond guide opens a couple of doors and leaves us waiting in an office that has nothing personal in it. A blind man can see that the owners of the place don't spend time here. I mean no one even knows their full names so I'm not really surprised by the lack of personal items. I can't imagine they have any emotional connection to the place beyond the monetary value.

"Did Raja tell you anything about the owners we don't already know, Viper?"

Knowing the sellers' angles and why people might be interested in selling are how you cut deals.

Amber eyes turn to mine. "Nope. He barely took my call this time around. I had to do a lot of groveling to get us to this point. So don't fuck it up with your dog faces, anti-social attitudes and asshole behavior."

I breathe in and exhale slowly, stretching my fingers at my side. Thirty-plus years as the man's friend has me not burying my knuckles in his face. Or him returning the favor.

Luther steps between us. "You have some glitter on you." I look down when he brushes at the flakes. His efforts are only rubbing them deeper into the material.

"Here let me." I strip my jacket off and give it a good shake when my phone rings. I jerk it out of my pocket to see a name I haven't thought about in years.

"What?" I bark into the speaker.

The voice on the other end says one sentence before hanging up.

Viper catches my gaze and his brows pinch. "You look like God just offered salvation, but the devil still has your balls in a vise. What's up?"