CHAPTER ONE

YEARS EARLIER

"Boss." He could feel him hitting his arm. "Boss."

" What ?" Vito Costantino's voice rose an octave. "Don't you see I'm working here?"

Alfonse Rickie saw him working alright. Working at groping one of the hotties at their table. "I'm trying to tell you he's in this joint."

Vito frowned. "What are you talking? Who's in this joint?"

"That slick bastard that disrespected you the other night. Micky Sinatra. He's here."

That name alone got Vito's attention. He started looking around the busy strip club, his anger rising. "Where that fucker at? Where he at?!"

"Right over there." Alfonse nodded toward a table in the back.

When Vito saw Mick sitting at that table in his do-rag and leather jacket, gulping beer and watching the strippers perform, his blood boiled. He couldn't stand that arrogant young punk who thought so highly of himself that he never traveled with an entourage. Who was half Vito's age but had twice the territory already. How Micky Sinatra got to be so successful so fast baffled Vito. And the way he treated Vito at that bar the other night still enraged him every time he thought about it. He knew he would get Sinatra back and publicly humiliate him the way he humiliated Vito. He just had to pick his moment. This, he now knew, was that moment.

But he also knew he had to play it smart. The weak overreacted, although that was exactly what he planned on doing. The weak yelled and screamed and showed their insecurities, even though something about that look in Mick's chilling green eyes terrified Vito and made him want to yell and scream too. The weak showed their weakness.

But the strong showed their strength. And the Costantinos were all about projecting strength if they weren't about anything else. "Round up the guys," he said to Alfonse. "Then we'll head over there."

Alfonse found it odd that the boss would need an entire crew to confront one man, but he didn't argue with him. He got up and went to search for their guys who had already taken strippers to the private dance rooms.

As Alfonse did the round up, Mick was taking another gulp from his beer mug. He didn't want to be there. The music, some rap shit, was too loud, too incoherent, and was giving him a headache. And although he kept his eyes on all the strippers, only one interested him. The tall slender one. The only black chick in the group on the stage in that moment. That group of strippers appeared to be the opening act, the warm-up routine, because none of them, in Mick's estimation, were all that good at what they were doing.

Although he was on one of those kicks lately where he preferred women with plenty curves, and all the other strippers had plenty-plus, the one his eyes were drawn to wasn't as curvaceous as he would have liked. But she had those perfect boobs that more than made up for her slenderness. And her gorgeous dark face, which seemed flawless from what he could see that far away, did too.

But he wasn't there to gawk at strippers. He wasn't there to enjoy the music either, since he didn't enjoy it at all. He was there to meet with the owner of the club: Jumbo Fourtaine. Mick wanted to run some of his merchandise out of a handful of those backrooms, but Jumbo wanted a bigger cut than Mick was willing to give.

"If it ain't Mick the Tick!"

When Mick heard the owner's voice, he smiled and stood up and the two Italians clasped hands and gave a half-hug with their other hand. "What up, Jumbo?"

"What's up with you? Imagine my surprise when they told me you were out here to see me. You were supposed to see me a week ago."

"Was handling business," Mick said. "What can I say?"

"Business my ass," Jumbo said and both men laughed. "I know what business your horny ass was handling." Then they both sat down. "I saw you staring at my ladies. Hot as hell every one of them, aren't they? Want one?"

"They look like the JV team to me."

"They aren't that bad. A few of them could be featured, but I have an embarrassment of riches in the female department. I have too many top-tiers."

"That music your choice?"

Jumbo was surprised. "What's wrong with the music? That's hip-hop. That's America's music."

"I don't understand a word they're saying."

"I don't either, but so what?"

Mick laughed.

"We want the hip crowd up in here. And the hip crowd don't wanna hear no Barry Manilow shit. And the hip crowd figure you should go along with the proposal I've proposed."

"The hip crowd don't know shit about shit if you think I'm giving up thirty percent of my take to any motherfucker."

"But five percent? Micky, come on! You're killing me man. What I'm gonna do with five percent?"

"I'll be running big money through this joint. It'll be more than any other tittie bar ever dream of getting."

"We've known each other for years already. You can give me at least ten percent."

"Five."

"Come on, Micky!"

"Five. Take it or leave it."

"Okay eight."

Mick gave Jumbo a look that brook no debate. "Five," he said so firmly that Jumbo knew the negotiations were closed.

Jumbo didn't like it. The chances he would be taking were astronomical. But the money would be astronomical too, even at five percent. And besides, he never wanted to be on the wrong side of Mick the Tick. He was young, but he was dangerous as hell. Jumbo smiled and extended his hand. "Five it is," he said, and they shook.

"How many rooms you'll need?"

"Three in the beginning. More later. I'll come by around six tomorrow, before you open, to pick out which ones."

"That'll work," Jumbo said as he began to rise.

But Mick was looking at the strippers again. "What's her name?"

"Which one?" Jumbo looked at the stage. "Let me guess. The blonde on the right?"

"The black chick on the left."

Jumbo smiled. "I'm down with the swirl too."

"Who is she?"

"That's Bella Caine. Or Bella Fame as the other strippers derisively calls her. She acts like she's better than the rest of them because she's prettier. They got the stripper-type body, but she got the looks. Oh, she's a handful."

"That's probably because she's not a stripper."

"She's had so many careers already it makes me dizzy. So many I can't keep up. But she's a better stripper than you think. But she's much better in a bed than on a pole. But her ass can strip. She's a rising star in the industry."

A rising stripper. Some industry, Mick thought.

Jumbo looked at him. "You want her?"

Mick didn't want her, but he knew a good lay when he saw one. She could definitely scratch an itch. "How long before her routine is up?"

"A few more minutes."

"Tell her to meet me around back. Red Maserati."

"Will do," Jumbo said and was about to walk away when Vito and Alfonse walked up, along with three of their guys.

"What's this about?" Jumbo asked Vito. "Don't start that bullshit in my club."

Alfonse pushed Jumbo away from his boss. "Get the fuck out of here. We'll start anything we damn well please."

Jumbo knew not to mix it up with the Costantino crew. He stayed in business by minding his business. "You break it, you own it," he said as he straightened his suit coat and left.

Vito stood in front of Mick. "How are you, Micky?"

Mick stared at Vito.

"Don't feel so big and bold now, do you?" Vito said this with no evidence. "Scared now, aren't you?" Still no evidence. But just that nonchalant look on Mick's face cause Vito's temper to flare. "Who the fuck are you to disrespect a man like me?!"

Mick took another gulp of his beer and then slowly stood to his feet. Although the rest of the crew stepped back, Vito held his ground. His heart was hammering. He'd heard about how vicious Mick could get. But he had his men behind him and they had his back. He held his ground.

When Mick stood up, he and Vito were face to face and so close that Mick could smell Vito's hot, onion breath.

"You called me a small-dick punk," Vito said. "Who's got the small dick now asshole? Who's got the small dick now?"

"You do," Mick said without blinking an eye. "Still tiny as a motherfuck."

" Why you !" Vito was so enraged that he lifted his fist to punch Mick in the face. But Mick blocked it easily and then slammed his own fist into Vito's face so hard that it dislocated his jaw. That punch stung Vito so completely that he fell on his butt.

And his men defended his honor. Two of his men grabbed Mick while the third one punched him hard in the face, but Mick was able to break free, knock out one man, and then knock out the other one. Then he grabbed the third one, the one that had punched him, and beat him down to his knees. The man then tried to pull out his gun, but Mick kicked it out of his hand. The man hurried away from Mick.

Then Mick turned to Vito.

Vito, still holding his painful jaw, began backing up on his butt, trying to get away from Mick. He pulled out his gun, Mick would pull out his gun, and they probably both would end up dead. That was why he got up, and ran out.

The man Mick had beaten down ran out behind his boss, even as the two guys Mick had knocked out awakened. When they realized they were left alone with Mick the Tick, they hopped up and took off too.

Jumbo, who was over by the bar watching it all, laughed loudly. "I made a deal with the right one," he told his bartender. "Mick's the real deal," he added, and raised his glass of wine at Mick.

Mick never celebrated winning a fight. Because they always led to more fights. Later in life, experience would teach him to never let a worthy opponent come back for another bite of that apple. But he was a young man then. He thought he was invincible.

The Costantino gang would soon make him realize he wasn't.