I’m coming over for a meeting. Get Shaun there as well, if you can.
Bloody great.
Now Blade sat in the black VIP room at the rear of the sprawling complex, with two of his business partners, Leke and Ethen.
“If James is coming himself, it means some serious shit,” said Blade. The black leather sofas were customized for comfort, but he could not settle. He glanced at the bar on the other side of the room, and a waiter in a black uniform hurried over with another drink.
“I don’t know why you’re so worked up about staying on the right side of the mob.” Ethen, the fae, tossed back blond hair that reached below his shoulders. “Supernaturals own half of Manhattan.”
And that was the bloody problem. When it was first discovered that supernaturals lived among humans, there had been upheaval as the authorities hunted them down and confined them to holding units. But when the government realized there were too many non-humans to control, it conceded that as supernaturals and humans had always co-existed, albeit without its knowledge, they could continue to do so. But humans and non-humans had separated into official zones. The mortals avoided properties where there was a large number of supernaturals and vice versa. There were already many non-humans in Manhattan at the time of the separation movement, and more of them had gravitated here, buying up land and businesses and threatening the power of local criminal elements. It was Blade who first recognized the need to maintain harmony between supernaturals and the mob, to prevent territorial disputes. The government would only let the non-humans live in peace if they kept their damn heads down.
The door opened, and their eyes shot to it: but it was Shaun, the wolf shifter. Not a partner in the club, nor did he work here anymore, but James probably wanted him at the meeting because he’d pissed off the mob boss recently. The shifter entered the low-lit room, done up in a black and crème theme, and joined them at the sofas arranged around a table. As he settled and ordered a drink, Blade thanked him for coming.
“No need to thank me, demon.” The wolf shifter patted him on the back. “You backed me up when I had a run-in with the mob over Angie. I’ll always be here when you need me.”
“Shaun will support me in this,” said Ethen. “Don’t you think it’s time we stopped tiptoeing around the mob and their like?” His blue eyes flashed white. The fae were known for treating humans as an inferior species, and he’d always found the truce a challenge.
Shaun nodded, but he would agree, considering his own recent dealings with James. He’d entered a partnership with the mob boss but then fucked him over for a female. “Ethen’s right.” The wolf shifted position so he faced Blade. “Look at you. You’re one of the most powerful guys in Manhattan. And this place...you won’t find another to match its success in the borough. Why the hell do you work so hard to keep things sweet with the mob?”
Eclipse took over an island, and nobody could touch them in this business. Even those who had worked with them and moved on, like the wolf shifter Shaun, kept links with them: seeking approval when they set up similar enterprises.
“I need to fix whatever’s bothering James before it gets out of hand,” said Blade, “We need the bloody mob on our side.”
“You know what?” said Ethen. “You’re just too bloody serious and need to lighten up. I mean, when’s the last time you got laid?”
Blade didn’t remember, and what was the point, when he didn’t care? Not anymore. But his abstinence wasn’t for lack of opportunity. With his tall muscular frame, he stood out in a crowd. And for some reason, females found his hard expression attractive. On days such as this, stubble covered his sharp jawline, but apparently that did not detract from his appeal. He could have a different being in his bed every night if he wanted, but he left the mating and fucking to others. He got laid on the rare occasion, but nothing more than that. Ironic, when he ran a club where humans and supernaturals came together for sexual encounters every night of the week.
The fae’s tribal tattoos rippled across his muscled arms as he stretched them over the back of the sofa. “What do you reckon, vampire?” he asked. “About the situation with the mob, not about when Blade got laid.”
It was a surprise Leke was at the venue tonight, because he rarely showed his sculpted face here. When he wasn’t inside his mansion with his horde, he was out completing some dangerous contract or the other. “I understand where Blade’s coming from. We live among humans and have to get along with them. If we piss James off, he could turn other powerful human agencies against us, too. And the truce is working out, isn’t it?”
“Well, if that’s what you guys want.” Another toss of Ethen’s hair as he directed his next question at Blade. “You need the blood-sucker and me to stay for the meeting?”
The unpredictable fae was the last person he wanted hanging around, and as for the vampire, just the sight of him would piss James off. Most mob members reckoned that the jobs Leke did for the government and other clients were theirs by right.
“It’s fine,” said Blade, “Drake’s coming, too, so it should be all right.”
“As you want.” When the fae stood, that smirk on his face indicated he was about to come out with one of his precious gems. “But seriously, Blade…you need some action, or your horns will forget how to work.” A sing song quality entered his voice. “Blade…needs to get laid.”
“Fuck you,” said Blade, as Shaun and Leke chuckled. When Ethen put his hand out to cop a feel of his horns, Blade jerked back, making his dark hair fly around his face. It made the guys laugh even louder. It was a long time since his horns had twitched for any female, but it appeared to bother his friends more than him. He could live without getting laid, and as for finding a mate? He’d given up on that idea. Some supernaturals had fated mates but others, like Shaun, chose their own. A mate…the one a supernatural was destined or decided to be with, always. Someone who loved isolation could never be with anyone in that way, could they?
“Demon?” The vampire’s eyes narrowed on him. “You can’t keep carrying the past around with you.”
Blade’s voice was gruff. “I’m not carrying anything around.” A silence descended on the group. The vampire was the only one who knew Blade from the days before the government cracked down on supernaturals…the only one who remembered him as he once was…an outgoing youngster whose only concern had been to hide his demon from his human friends and make sure he always had a customized wig atop his head to cover the horns. But then his kind was discovered, and mayhem followed. He’d been separated from his family and friends and put in a holding cell. Months of him releasing his demon, his horns elongating and skin turning red, but there were only concrete walls to meet his rage. By the time he came out, he was changed. He shifted the attention from his past. “I hope the damn mobsters turn up soon. I need to get back to Oasis—”
“You take your time, Blade,” said Leke, “I’ll hang out in your zone until you’re done here.”
“No secret assignments tonight, then?” Shaun asked him, the lightness in his voice also forced.
“My horde can deal with whatever’s going down tonight. I’m needed here.”
Blade raised his glass to him. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Now, get the hell out of here.”
They’d just walked out of the door when security buzzed on his mobile to let him know that James and Drake were here with back up. He wouldn’t expect anything less from the mobsters. “They can leave their back up—guys and guns—outside.”
Drake entered soon after that instruction, alone, to scan the place first. Blade had met the mobster a few times when the guy was lower down the ladder, and with his increasing rank, he’d only developed the attitude needed to get the job done. He was a handsome fucker back then, before he got those scars, but they didn’t seem to reduce his appeal. In fact, those expensive black two-pieces he favored gave him a mean look that appealed to plenty.
A few minutes later, James entered. Skinny and tall with gray hair, his caramel two-
piece hung off his frame, as if the tailor couldn’t get it tight enough to fit. His pursed lips emphasized deep wrinkles, offense permanently marring his expression. The most dangerous thing about him? How harmless he looked. It was only when you got to know him that you discovered the guy was an out-and-out sadist. At the sight of Shaun, he scowled as if he was not the leader of the biggest gang in Manhattan, but a two-year-old. But he said nothing. Had he called the wolf over just to make that charming face at him?
As they both sat, the waiter came over, but James told the elf to piss off. The waiter cast Blade a glance, but he shook his head, and the other guy retreated. It wasn’t a secret that the mob boss couldn’t stand their kind. Drake had worked damn hard to convince him to deal with supernaturals, and all had been going as well as it could until two months ago. The shifter Shaun fell for a human and backed out of a deal with the mobster—it wasn’t major, but with James, even something minor became a personal affront.
“So, what’s going on?” asked Blade.
His question was directed at Drake but James answered. “Everything would have been great, if it wasn’t for recent incidents.” He narrowed his eyes at Shaun, itching for an argument, but thank fuck, the shifter didn’t fall for it. “Put it this way, demon. I’m only here to negotiate because of you, or else after the stunt your friend Shaun pulled, none of us would have touched your kind with a bloody barge pole.”
Blade’s eyes were on Drake. No supernatural would influence the other guy—if anyone could, it was the man he had trained to take over his business. Drake was a voice of reason compared to the older guy. It helped that he was in his thirties and not in his mid-sixties like James. The latter was still in a time when males lost their balls for questioning his decisions, whereas Drake understood the importance of negotiation. “That situation with Shaun wasn’t ideal, and perhaps he shouldn’t have compromised the deal for the sake of a woman, but it’s done.” Blade inhaled, deep. “But something tells me you’re not here to rake up that shit.”
It shouldn’t have been possible, but James’ mouth tightened even more. “You’re right. But before that, doesn’t your friend have something to say?”
Blade glanced at Shaun. Please…just say it. The wolf shifter’s jaw tensed and his eyes flashed, indicating he was pissed. Damn, his nails even started extended into claws. But he said the words that James wanted to hear. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience caused.”
A sly smile stretched the mobster’s wrinkled face, but Drake spoke before he could goad Shaun any further. “We’re here about our girls.”
But that issue was sorted, wasn’t it? Among his other shady enterprises, James ran a prostitution racket. He had put a load of women on the game, and as well as taking a massive cut of their earnings, he controlled their work—where they went and who they saw. Desperate to make the money to get away from him, some of the women secretly worked clubs where he had no influence. Several of them came to Oasis, the dance zone that Blade managed, a few times a week. “Since you last brought that issue up, I’ve dealt with it.”
“Except you haven’t,” said James.
Drake cleared his throat. “We’ve got it on good authority that some of the girls have been in Oasis.”
“You know I don’t want them here any more than you do.” It wasn’t an ideal situation for Blade, either. James’ girls attracted a lower class of clientele, and Oasis’ manager had been instructed to keep the situation under control so the venue’s reputation wasn’t affected. Eclipse had standards that those washed out women didn’t meet. And hell, the scenario now threatened to create a misunderstanding between James and him, as if he didn’t have enough problems keeping that shit together.
“How do I know you’re not doing this deliberately? Letting my girls into your venue?”
There was an accusation in the gangster’s voice, as if Blade was dying to take those wretched and malnourished women away from him. “My security will be more vigilant. You have my word.”
“We’ve already had that conversation. Now I’m going to take action. I want to station some of my guys at Oasis and maybe a couple of other zones.”
What the fuck? “You know I can’t let you do that.”
“You’ve left us no choice.” The way Drake spoke, all authoritative, you wouldn’t think he hated this side of James’ business.
“And if the club owners don’t agree?” asked Shaun.
Wrong question. James’ lips stretched back, exposing teeth as rotten as his damn soul. “Then my men will wait outside the gates of Oasis. You can’t stop them from waiting there, can you?”
The last thing Blade needed was thugs creating a ruckus outside his place. It had taken shitloads of work to establish the club’s reputation as a venue where clients’ safety came first. “From now on, your girls won’t get into our place. I’ll do what it takes.”
ALYSSA DID AWAY WITH THE short leather skirt and cropped top tonight, opting for a knee-length gray dress that didn’t hug her body the way it used to. Those bloody security guards at Oasis…they were getting more and more precious about entrance to the zone, and she didn’t need to wear anything that broadcasted her profession. Dammit. It didn’t help that the asshole James was putting pressure on venues where any of his girls might head to make some extra cash.
She checked her appearance in the mirror that leaned against the wall. It was long enough for her to get a good look at herself if she stood at a certain angle. Not that it was something she enjoyed. Her highlighted hair fell in tangled ringlets around her thin face, and her green eyes lost their sparkle long ago. And she seemed to get skinnier by the day, making her seem even smaller than her height of five foot three. It was a miracle she still got clients.
“You’re planning to go out tonight?” Daisy, the fellow hooker whose apartment she shared, was sprawled across the sofa, a bottle of vodka in her hand and pills and powder on the table before her. One of James’ guys had hooked Alyssa up with her when she first came to Manhattan with dreams of making enough cash to buy her way out of misery. But a year later, and she was still stuck in this filthy apartment, with its peeling paint and windows held together by tape. Yet, the rent was high enough to wipe out most of the money she had left over after James took his more than reasonable cut. The asshole claimed 50% of their earnings as a commission for handling their work.
“Of course I’m going out.” Alyssa’s voice was more confident than she felt.
“What if James sends his guys around again?” That was why she was making sure she wouldn’t be here. Life was shit enough before James used her for his own pleasure. She had heard he was violent, but she’d suffered her fair share of asshole clients and was convinced she’d seen the worst. But James was a sadist who could only get it up if he saw a woman in pain. After the first time, he’d booked her again. And again. She’d always had bad dreams, but they turned into nightmares after those experiences. She’d wake up screaming, Daisy’s shouts from the other side of the wall telling her to shut the fuck up. The last time the mobster called her over, he’d tied her to a bed and taken out blades and burning cigarettes to use in his sick little games. And then he’d passed her bleeding body to two of his friends. This evening, she had used a bottle of cheap foundation on her arms and legs to cover the bruises, and marks left behind from cigarette burns and cuts. “Alyssa? If his men come around and you’re not here, James will be well pissed.”
“Because he was so sweet to me the other night, wasn’t he?”
This evening, when his guys came calling to say that the mob boss wanted a repeat service, she told them where to get off. But Daisy was right. They would come back…and she had no intention of being around when they did.
“Are you going to Eclipse?” When she said nothing, “Why the hell do you go to that place after its owners have warned the girls to stay away? If they get pissed, they’ll get nasty. They’re fucking supernaturals, for God’s sake.”
Yes, she’d heard the stories about how su
pernaturals had hidden powers that it wasn’t wise to test. And some of Eclipse’s owners were hardened criminals before they came into the business, but could they hurt her any more than James had? She rubbed her arm. Most of the scars would fade, but for now the marks lingered as if reminding her to stay away from that sadist. “There’s no need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“If you want extra work, why don’t you do the alleys and streets, like me?” Daisy must have been like her once, with some hope of making it out of here and changing her life. Now she was just another of those washed up hookers that lined the streets of Manhattan. The bruises that regularly appeared on Daisy’s face were enough motivation not to go that way.
“I’ll be all right at the club.”
“Mark my words.” Daisy stood and pushed her out of the way to check her own reflection in the mirror as she took another swig from the bottle. She’d dressed in a tight denim skirt that barely covered her ass, and her cropped top exposed flab that had piled on after years of junk food. It was the kind of gear that Alyssa usually favored but not tonight. “You’re on a route to hell. I can’t believe you said no to James.” Alyssa glanced between the other woman and her arms. How the hell could she say that? “What?” Daisy’s face tightened. “You think that’s bad? Just wait until James’ men tell him you rejected him. He’ll be pissed no end, mark my fucking words. You think what he did was enough to make your pretty eyes cry? They’re a walk in the park compared to other stuff. I’ve been there. Yeh, so he gets rough and sometimes likes to get his friends involved. But believe me, it can get a lot worse than that. They even behave toward their own girlfriends and wives like that, so how do you expect them to treat women like us?”
Women like us. The world had changed, but some attitudes just hung around, didn’t they? But there was little point musing over her lot in life. She’d already registered with a fake name for Oasis, the dance zone where she usually looked for customers, and now flung a denim jacket over her dress. A cheap outfit, but it was more likely to get her in than the gear she usually wore.
Marked By The Alpha (Blood Moon Book 1) Page 15
