CHAPTER NINETEEN

SHAW

First stop of the night takes me to a Beretta's. Watching girls strip and drowning my own worthless ass in there does nothing to appease whatever place my screwed-up head is in. I'm just staring at near-lifeless skin as it pulls off moves it's been taught. Yeah, they know how to pull in the dollars, but they're all just a shell. No bite – no truth. They're just made. Or formed. By one of us.

Think I came here tonight because I couldn"t get Miri's words from last night from my head. She said I was better than that place; said she'd felt it. Don't really know what that means.

I glance around at the heaving bar and tables, watching all the guys throw their money at, or lick across, some skin if it gets close enough. The potent smell of sweat, sex and booze drifts around in the air, intoxicating anyone who's paying for their night. It's working. There's a fuck load of cash rolling around. Typical for this place and for most of the others we own. Maybe this one's a little classier, but it's still just the same breed of guy here waiting on their fix. I"m usually one of them.

Some high rollers come over and shake hands with me, asking if I'm down for some card time. I'm civil in response – acting like the Cortez host I should be, given no other Cortez is here to do it – but I'm not down for fun and gambling at all. I don't even know what I am down for, but pretending I'm good when I'm far from it isn't on my agenda tonight. Shouldn't have come.

"Hey, baby," Gemini says, as her hand brushes my shoulder. I look up and watch as she moves round, swings her leg across me, and sits her ass in my lap. "Haven't seen you for a while." No. I sigh and let her rub me in all the right places, head tipping back so I can stare at the lights above. She's a good fuck, even better at giving head. She was five years back when she was stolen out of Mexico, too, but now she's a pro at it. Guess that's why I came here – to get back to reality and forget Miri"s words about being better. Because this is it for me, isn't it? I use the Cortez name I've been given; I drink with the money I've also been given, and I fuck anything I want.

She starts grinding on me, using her sweet ass to ride me to the beat of the music. There isn't any talking. Why bother? She knows what I want, and I don't care what she thinks.

Another sigh comes out of me as I feel myself harden and let her keep moving on me. I didn't give a damn about Gem's pleas and hopelessness back when she first arrived. I was a dumb nineteen-year-old back then, all brass balls and no want for anything else but fucking and violence. I should still be that guy. He would"ve been fine with this life. I'm not that kid anymore, though.

I open my eyes and look at her. She's not that girl she was back then anymore, either. She's resigned to the life she's got – damn good at it. Might even be happy with her lot. It's not like she doesn't make enough dollars. I guess Miri will be the same, eventually.

My face screws up, and I try shaking the thought of her out of my head.

Doesn't work, so I reach around Gem and grab hold of the bottle of tequila. A few gulps down and I rest it back on the booth while Gem keeps doing her thing. Trouble is, nothing's working now, and all I can see is Miri's pleading eyes. Might fucking help if I wasn't thinking about her being on top of me right now instead of Gem.

Hands stilling her hips, I stand and lift her.

She giggles at me and slides her arms tighter around my neck. "One of the back rooms is free." I drop her to the floor, let her balance those heels, and let go.

"Not tonight." Her hands slide around my jaw, lips coming in close. I sure as shit don"t want them.

I back off and reach into my pocket for some cash, putting a roll of notes in her hand. "Go home. See your kid." She frowns and falters on her heels.

"What?"

"Just … go be a mom, Gem. Whatever. I'm done tonight."

"But I'm on shift till three?"

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't be. This isn"t a life."

Leaving her, I walk the perimeter of the room until I'm out on the sidewalk and nodding at two of the security guys at the door. We talk for a few minutes, but other than that, there's no reason for me to be here. This place runs smooth as you like without me. Knox makes sure of it, despite not being here lately.

I walk for a while, directionless, and think too much about Miri and where she's at and why she's there. The fact that I know Abel's already got a buyer eats at me with every step, and some kind of jealousy flows through me about that possibility. Confusion beds in further the more I consider it, and not just because of the image of another man fucking her. It's all wrong. Stealing them, branding them up like animals, using them. Every inch of this life we lead is cursed to hell and back. Add someone like Miri into that, and my part in getting her here, and I'm a lost soul searching for a way out that isn't coming any time soon.

I end up following my feet to Mariana's place, unsure how that happened. I get into the elevator and stare at the door as it climbs the floors. Some guy's coming out of the door to Apt B when I get to it. He looks up at me sheepishly, like he's embarrassed to have been in there. Shouldn't be. We all like to fuck, and my sister sure knows how to pick the right girls for some class and sophistication in a whore.

Pushing into the place, I listen to the low ebb of music swinging around. Three girls are over to me before I even reach the bar, offering themselves up. I dismiss them all and try for more drink to help me on my way to a hell I'm already bound for.

"Hello you," Mariana's voice says somewhere behind me.

I turn back to look at her, taking in the outfit. Sleek as fuck. "Hey."

"Come to pick some fun up?"

"No. Just …" I shrug my shoulders. "Just making sure you're good."

"Me? I'm fine." Yeah. She always is these days. Solid business model going down, money coming in. A good man by her side. A purpose. Safe. "Security's tight and we've got a full house tonight. With all this happening in New York, Abel's all over me being well guarded." She sits and puts her champagne on the bar. "You okay?"

"The fuck do you keep asking me that for?"

"I've asked you twice. Mainly because you're not, and I'm trying to be a good sister. But, you know, fuck you if that's better." My lips tip up slightly, and I stare at some guys heading through to the back rooms. "Or, how about you talk, and we can see what's going on?"

"I'm fine."

"No. You're struggling with something." I frown and look at some girls nearby rather than acknowledge that truth. "You want to go downstairs?"

"Why?"

"The office is down there now."

"Right."

"We can drink, and you can offload whatever's going on."

She's up and moving before I get a chance to answer, and, much as I hate to admit it, I'm following her. She talks to a few men on the way, smiling and using her skills to coerce the higher-priced rooms to them. They drift off with whores as we pass by, all ready to fuck their few hours away like life outside these walls doesn't exist. It does, though, doesn't it? Real life always exists. It does for these girls, too. I doubt any of them wanted this life. We made it for them – forced it.

"So," she says, as we get to the office. I look around the plush interior, trying to work out if it's an actual office or another fucking room considering the bed in the corner. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Shaw, it's me. Cut the bullshit. Talk." She puts a bottle of whiskey on the table with a couple of glasses, pouring. "Drink. Your tongue gets looser when you do."

We drink for a while. Can't remember the last time we did that. She tells me about her side of this business and how it's going, and I just keep drinking and listening. She's so fucking on it. Everything. Every minute detail seems ordered and precise, like she got all of Mother's organising genes and is running with them full tilt since she killed her. I should be pissed about that, but I'm not. Wasn't when it happened, not now, either. Might even have expected it at some point.

"So, you know, there's room for another Apartment B in Dallas the moment I get the first one running. And then, when you boys have dealt with New York, maybe there, too." I nod and sink another whiskey. "Why aren't you there yet?"

"Going soon."

"Well, that's good for you. Away from all this and doing what you do best." Yeah. "You never were much good with this side of the business."

I frown, still unable to shift the thought of Miri out of my head. "I'm pretty good at fucking anything I want. That is our business."

She smiles and raises her glass. "Yeah. No one disputes that, from what I hear. You're quite the machine between the sheets. Not that I want to think about that. At. All. Ugh." We both smile a little and a bitter laugh comes out of me. "When was the last time you got tested for disease?" My head rears up. "With the amount of pussy you get lost in, you must be riddled with-"

"Screw you. I'm clean." I make sure of it. Monthly.

She's silent for a while, just drinking and looking at me.

Until.

"What's that on your face?" I frown again, not knowing what she means. "The bruising, Shaw?"

"Abel."

"Why?"

I shrug. "What does it matter? Just is. Got put in my place about something. The usual bullshit."

"He scratched you, too, huh?"

My brow arches as I remember the shred of Miri's nails. "Something like that."

"He can be a real asshole sometimes. Sometimes I think …" She trails off and shakes her head. "I don't know. He's difficult, though, right? Can't wrap my head around the way his mind thinks some days. He's like some high school bully one day, and then sweet as fuck another. Well, not sweet, but Abel's version of it."

"Yeah. He sure likes to keep us on a one-way track."

"His track, though. Screw everyone else's opinion." There is that.

I heave in a breath and set the glass on the table between us. This needs to be done before I say something I shouldn't, which is coming if I keep drinking with her. Whatever we are to each other, she's right – we're twins, and, like it or not, there"s that thing between us that gives us the ability to see through the crap. Last thing she needs is to know what's going on in my head about Miri and this whole damn scenario. If she doesn't know, she can't tell anyone when hassled for information.

"You're going?" she asks.

"Yeah." I stand and turn for the door. "Hey, you know where Naja went to?"

She sneers and lifts herself from her chair, near gliding around the table to get to me. "She went to a guy called Reece Carlise. He took over one of Chance's places near Nashville, the Grillhouse, I think." Yeah, I know it. "Abel sold the place to him. Not that it was ours to sell."

"Kinda was after a Cortez – you – killed him. That's how this works. You take a life in this sort of world; you get the assets."

"Hmm. I suppose. I can tell you now, though, the profit from those assets is not in my accounts." No. It'll be firmly under Abel's control, with Knox constantly running the numbers. That's how it works for all of us. Nothing is ours – it"s his. His decisions. His control. His fucking orders. Just once, I'd love to beat him at that, and win. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason. Just wondered. I'm ready for all this Reed bullshit to be done and over."

"Well," she opens the door for us and leads us back out into the hall towards the private elevator. "It just about is now you've brought the runaway back. And you're out of here soon. The bright lights of Manhattan are calling your name. You make sure you keep a room open for me and Kai."

The elevator slides open, and I step inside. "Not happening. You can pay for your own shit."

She flips a finger up at me as it closes and walks off. "Dick."

Yeah.

The stale, warm air of the underground parking lot hits me the second the doors open. I walk out into it and look left and right. It's quiet down here – nothing but concrete, cars and a dull light shining in the corner. I cut through some of them until I'm back up on the main street and walking again. I'm as directionless as I was before I got here, but eventually, I get to my car and slide inside. Whole damn feeling pisses me off. It's like I'm either wandering without purpose permanently or being told the exact direction I'm supposed to go in and screw my thoughts on that.

I wish the hostility wasn't building in me, but it is. Every fucking thing I do is ordered – forced. I'm about done with that kinda crap. I can"t think through it anymore. I look out through the windshield, playing with what my future is ever gonna be if this continues. None of it fills me with anything but more scowls and hostility.

Might be time for me to make some goddamn decisions of my own.