“Well, if I waited on you two to quit pussyfootin’ around and get down to it, my grandchildren would be runnin’ the Pack.”
“I don’t need your help, Smitty. I’ve got this under control.”
“Really? Then why are you here alone?”
Mace stood up. “It’s all about timing, Smitty.”
“Yeah. Sure. Hopefully timing will keep you warm tonight, hoss.”
The two men walked out of the restaurant. “You don’t understand Dez. You can’t push her. She needs subtle, refined encouragement.”
“You forget. I watched that woman put away a steak. She ain’t subtle.”
“This is true. Excuse me.” Mace moved past three men. “But then again, I’m not really that subtle either.”
“Mason Llewellyn?”
Mace stopped and turned. He knew before he even turned around what he would find. If he hadn’t already smelled them, Smitty’s growling would have been a dead giveaway. He tolerated Mace well enough, but that was about it.
There were three of them. Large. A good ten years younger. Raw. Hoods. One didn’t meet a lot of lion hoodlums these days.
“Yeah?”
“Wow. It really is you. I told these guys it was.”
Mace watched the man closely as Smitty paced behind him. His wolf buddy did not like this one bit. Of course, he didn’t like it much himself.
“You know, you and your Pride are real well known around this city. It’s a real honor to meet you.” He held his hand out. “Patrick Doogan. These are my brothers.” Mace grasped the man’s hand with his own. Cold, gold eyes sized Mace up. Debating his strength. His power.
“So, Doogan. What can I do for you?”
He glanced at his brothers. “Smart, ain’t he? I told you he’d be smart. He knows we aren’t stopping him in the street to just say hi.”
“I know you didn’t simply find me in the street by accident either. So can we cut the bullshit?”
Doogan grinned. A true predator this one. Not a soft bone in his mammoth body. “I wanna tawk to youse sometime ’bout ya sistas.” The man’s New York street accent painfully assaulted Mace’s ears. Dez’s made him laugh and turned him on, especially when she struggled to hide it. Not Doogan’s. Mace wanted to slash the man’s vocal cords with his paw. “See if we can discuss some…uh…possible business arrangements regardin’ the Llewellyn Pride.”
Mace shrugged. “Sure. That would be great. And you have sisters that I can have…and fuck. Right?”
Doogan’s eyes narrowed, while Smitty softly chuckled next to him.
“Since that is what you want my sisters for, right? To mate with you? To breed with you? To rub your fuckin’ feet?”
“I don’t like to be fucked with, Llewellyn.”
“Then you shouldn’t bend over and hand me the lube.”
Mace couldn’t believe how angry he felt, but discussing his sisters like high-priced collateral galled him to no end. True, on any given day he detested them severely, but still…they were his sisters. His sisters. You don’t talk about a man’s sisters like you’re buying hookers for a bachelor party.
He watched, fascinated, when the façade of one cat chatting with another turned to outright hatred. Doogan hated what Mace represented. What Doogan and his equally large brothers would never be.
“I’ll have your sisters, Llewellyn, and I’ll fuck ’em all.”
“You’re underestimating the women of my family. They don’t play nice with others. They’ll rip your cock off and show it to ya. And when they do, I’m going to laugh my ass off.”
Mace turned to walk away, but Doogan’s voice stopped him cold.
“Tell me, Mason. How’s Petrov doing these days?”
Mace sighed. “You know why you’ll never have the Llewellyn Pride?” He looked back at Doogan. “Cause you have no class.”
In less than a second, Doogan was on him.
Dez pushed past the fifty or more people standing in line, waiting to get into the hottest club in the Village. She told the bouncer her name and watched him stare at her breasts for a good ninety seconds before letting her into the club.
Immediately Dez knew she didn’t belong. This was not her kind of place. An Irish cop bar. A biker bar. The local bowling alley. Those were her kinds of places. Here she felt…old. Her gun pressed into her back under her leather jacket. She was glad that the bouncer hadn’t checked her. She wouldn’t like to be here without her weapon.
Packed to capacity, the club had the rich and the connected mixing with the famous and the drug dealers. Vice would have a field day in this place.
She walked to the bar. “I’m looking for Gina Brutale.”
“Yup. In the back bar.”
She headed toward the back part of the club, pushing her way through a throng of barely dressed, overperfumed people. She’d almost made it to her destination when she caught sight of him. All gold and beautiful. Talking to a lean, dark-haired woman. Dez moved over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Mr. Shaw?”
He turned to her, and he was as beautiful as the picture of him in the Petrov file. Only now he seemed really annoyed. And not nearly as beautiful as Mace. She laughed to herself. Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.
“Do I know you?” It would be real nice if he directed that question to her and not her breasts.
She leaned into him. She couldn’t announce to the bar she was NYPD, but the man clearly had idiotic tendencies if he insisted on being out in the middle of the night after one of his business partners had so recently been blown away.
“Mr. Shaw, I think you’d be safer back at home, don’t you? At least until we get a handle on this Petrov situation.”
“Ah, you must be one of the detectives. Must be the one Missy threw out of the house.” Shaw leaned into her and sniffed her neck. He grinned. “How is Mace tonight, anyway?”
Dez pulled away from him. What? Did the entire Llewellyn family know she had gone out with Mace? And did they all go around sniffing each other? Oh whatever.
“Mr. Shaw, I really think you should go home. Now.”
Shaw leered at her and she raised her eyebrow, daring him to give her real attitude.
“I was leaving anyway, Detective.”
“Good. Thank you. Cause I’d really hate to have to watch Forensics catalog pieces of your brain—like we did with Petrov.”
Dez headed off to the back bar. As she came around the corner she caught sight of five women. At least, she was pretty sure they were women—they were a tad butch—sitting at the bar. They looked very similar, and Dez guessed a blood connection between all of them. It was the one nursing a straight scotch and staring sadly at the floor that had her complete interest, though.
The fourth kick to his ribs sent him flipping up and over. He landed on his hands and knees. Ready to shift, but holding back until he had absolutely no choice.
He saw one of Doogan’s brothers going for the weapon he had hidden under his silk jacket and long cashmere coat. Mace didn’t wait for him to get a good grip on it. He moved, catching the man’s arm and twisting it back until it snapped. The roar of pain he let out shook the block and made people run. Doogan moved toward him because Smitty had the other brother and was definitely seconds away from snapping his neck.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Mace pulled the man in his arms back so that his body practically resembled a U.
“Don’t make me break him in half—cause I can.”
Doogan stopped. He could see both of his siblings were seconds away from meeting a rather ugly death. Who would the cops believe? Three criminal hoods from the projects or Mace Llewellyn and his out-of-town Southern friend? Two decorated officers from the Navy.
No. Doogan wasn’t stupid. Mean and evil, but not stupid. He held his hands up and backed away from Mace. Once far enough away, Mace pushed the man in his arms toward Doogan, and Smitty did the same.
Doogan took them both and backed away down the street.
“Stay away f
rom my sisters, Doogan. Or next time I’ll make sure this ends differently.”
Doogan didn’t answer, he just left.
Smitty resheathed his claws and wiped blood off his hands. “Well that was almost as much fun as the cops pretending to be hookers.”
Mace smiled and grimaced all at the same time. His face and chest hurt.
“Shouldn’t the cops be here by now?”
Smitty’s innocent statement made Mace laugh outright.
His friend grabbed his arm and pulled him under a street lamp. “Let’s see your face, hoss.” He winced. “Yup. They did some damage.”
“Thanks.” Mace went to touch his face, but Smitty held his hand back. “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t pointed it out to me, Smitty.”
“Don’t get sassy with me, hoss.”
“Sorry. I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if Dez had still been with us.”
“That’s easy. There would have been a lot of people dead. Between the two of ya. She got that look in her eye. She’s a predator, son. And don’t think for a second she ain’t.”
“Dez would be the least of their worries.”
“My, my. We are awfully protective of a woman we haven’t seen in years.”
“Don’t start, Smitty.”
He chuckled. “You know, you look real shitty, hoss.”
“Thank you very much.” Mace moved his jaw around. At least it wasn’t broken.
“So shitty you look like you need someone to take care of you.”
Mace blinked in confusion. “Why? I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“Someone to take care of you, Mace. Tend your wounds. Comfort you in her very large, sweet bosom.”
Mace shook his head. “No. No way, Smitty.”
“Would you trust me?”
“That’s a shitty thing to do. It’s almost catlike in its evilness.”
“See, your problem is you underestimate dogs. There’s a reason many of us are let up on the couch, while they keep y’all in a zoo.”
“This is a stupid conversation.”
“We’re stupid men. Stupid men who like their women big chested and loud.”
“You think Dez is loud?”
“Nah. Sissy’s loud. Your woman does have quite the voice, though. Like someone took a sandblaster to her vocal cords.”
“I like her voice.”
“I know dirt roads in the poorest part of Tennessee that are smoother than that girl’s voice. Although, I have to admit, I did enjoy watching her suck that finger clean.”
“It’s almost like you want me to hurt you.”
“Gina?”
Dark brown eyes that were almost black focused on her. Filled with such intense sadness, Dez hated that the woman freaked her out so much. But something about Gina Brutale set her nerves on edge.
“Yeah.” She slid off her stool. “Come on.” Gina sucked back the rest of her scotch and dropped the glass on the bar.
She glanced at the women with her. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
The women didn’t respond. Instead, they stared at Dez. Perhaps the most uncomfortable experience she’d had in a long time, and Dez’s job consisted of uncomfortable experiences. But the way they stared at her—that’s what freaked her out. Like they were silently plotting which parts of her body would sauté well in olive oil.
Gina walked away from the bar and Dez followed her, glancing back once at the women. They were still staring at her. She fought the urge to shudder.
Gina walked to an office in a deserted part of the club and went to open the door, but someone pulled it open from the other side. A woman who resembled Gina stepped out. The two women stared at each other. Actually, they really glared. Almost vicious in their intensity.
Eventually the woman’s brown eyes turned to Dez. “Who the fuck is that?”
“None of ya fuckin’ business.”
Dez rolled her eyes. This sounded like one of those typical arguments between girls in her old neighborhood. They usually degenerated into hair pulling until knives were eventually drawn.
She didn’t have time for that.
“Can this wait? I gotta life.”
Gina proceeded into the office. The other woman made to move around her but stopped and suddenly sniffed Dez instead.
Dez reared back. “Can I help you?”
She grunted. “Another one.”
Dez had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t have a chance to ask as the woman walked off.
Shaking her head, she entered the office, closing the door behind her.
“Interesting girl.”
“She’s a bitch.” Gina slid on top of a highly polished mahogany desk. “And my sister. Anne Marie.”
“My sympathies.”
She snorted. “We all have our own personal hell. She’s mine.”
Dez took in the office. Fancy, but it didn’t look very used. Lots of mahogany and glass. It didn’t look like the office of a woman.
“Whose office is this?”
“My father’s. But he doesn’t come here very often.”
Dez almost gave in to her desire to find out more about the well-known but rarely seen Gino Brutale. Instead, she forced herself to remember she was in this club for a reason. Not to see if she could find out more about Brutale’s mob ties.
“So…you wanted to talk to me about Alexander Petrov’s death?”
“Yeah. Ya see, he was…”
The woman struggled with her admission, but Dez didn’t know why. “He was…” she coaxed.
Brutale stood tall, suddenly proud. “He was with me. He was my lover.”
Dez didn’t understand why Gina needed to fear admitting that information. Brutale was no youngster. She appeared to be in her early to midthirties. And it wasn’t like Petrov ran some rival mob family, unless Missy was up to more than she realized. Which Dez seriously doubted.
Dez waited for Gina to continue.
“I saw him the night he died. When he left me that night, he was very much alive. I don’t know if anyone followed him. I do know Missy Llewellyn would lose her friggin’ mind if she knew about us.”
Dez stepped forward. “And did she know?”
“I don’t know. But he was going to leave her and stay with me. I don’t know if he ever got around to telling her that, though.”
“Petrov and Missy Llewellyn were…together? A couple?” Maybe, but who would put up with that heartless bitch?
“It’s too complicated to explain. But, basically, she owned him.”
What the hell does that mean?
“What do you mean she owned him? She had something on him?”
“No. But he belonged to her. She wouldn’t take him leaving well. Especially if he were leaving her for me.”
“Why you? What connection do you have with the Llewellyns?” A Jersey girl like Brutale wouldn’t exactly be welcome at a Llewellyn banquet, and they both knew it.
“Our families have…a history, you might say. We’ve hated each other for a long time.”
“Do you think Missy killed him?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Shootin’ him in the back of the head, though, doesn’t really seem Missy’s style, ya know?”
Dez shrugged. “I couldn’t tell ya.”
“All I’m sayin’ is, you need to look at Missy Llewellyn for this. Look at her close. She shouldn’t be able to get away with this. Just cause he loved me and not her.”
“Yeah. But are you sure he loved you?”
Brutale locked her beady dark eyes on Dez’s face. “What?”
“Maybe you want me to focus on Missy because you want her to suffer more. Maybe Petrov wouldn’t leave her. Maybe he didn’t love you at all. So you got rid of him yourself.” Dez didn’t really believe that, but she wanted to see Brutale’s reaction.
She wasn’t disappointed. She blinked and suddenly Gina Brutale stood right in front of her. Their bodies almost touching. Rage and sorrow came off Brutale in waves, practical
ly knocking Dez out of the room.
“I loved him. He loved me. Anybody tell you different, they’re lyin’. We had plans, him and me. Plans to run this family together.”
“Maybe your father wasn’t okay with that.”
“My father will do what I tell him to do. The women run this family. Not the men.”
Well, that was new. “Okay.”
Brutale glared at her for a long minute. Then she took one step back. Then another. Eventually a good five feet separated the women. But Dez still didn’t feel safe. She wouldn’t feel that way until she got the hell out of the building.
“But I will say this, Detective—whoever killed him better pray to the Mother Mary you get to them first. They better pray I never fuckin’ find out. Cause I’ll kill ’em myself. And I’ll make sure they suffer for what they done.”
Dez didn’t doubt Gina’s words for even a second. She wanted out of this building. She wasn’t even supposed to be on this case. Suddenly, nailing Missy took a backseat to her basic survival.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that.”
Dez backed up from Brutale. She didn’t feel comfortable turning her back on the woman. She grabbed hold of the doorknob, opened the door, and eased out into the club.
She cut through the enormous place, including the back bar where she found Brutale. She had to pass the same pack of women, only this time Brutale’s sister was with them. As she moved past them, the lightest touch nipped her neck.
Reaching back, Dez grabbed the hand touching her and twisted until Anne Marie Brutale lay on the floor at her feet, howling in pain. Dez planted her foot in the woman’s side and twisted her arm again. This time even farther away from her body. A few more inches and she’d break the bone at the shoulder.
“Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch me again.” The grip she had on the woman she learned from the Marine Corps. The statement—that was all Bronx.
Gina Brutale walked in. She stared dispassionately at her sister. It had to be the coldest look Dez had ever seen. As much as she detested her own sisters sometimes, Dez would never let anyone else hurt them. Not ever.
“I really hope I made myself clear.” She twisted Anne Marie’s arm a bit more for emphasis, pulling another brutal howl from her throat. The sound sent a nasty shiver up her spine. These people just weren’t right.
The Mane Event Page 8
