That did it. Knowing she was still devoted to him on her fucking death bed, it cut him deep and called him to action. He stood up and when he passed me, he suddenly looked smaller, frailer.
“Son, I didn’t always treat her right.” He stopped and swallowed deep. Sadness and guilt, that was what I saw on his face. I sucked my bottom lip in between my teeth and felt the bristle of beard with my tongue. It was enough to stop me agreeing with him, my silence was the perfect way to get my view across. “But she was perfect for me. Kept me… whole… during some really dark times.” It was exactly how she’d described the relationship they’d had.
“Then go be with her during her dark time.”
My father nodded at me, a look of grit and steel that I was familiar with falling into place on his face, and left.
Three hours later, I took the call with New York, irritated that I was having to deal with such petty bullshit while my mother could be taking her last breaths.
“If you don’t do as I ask, I will be on the next plane to New York showing you why that was a bad decision,” I growled down the phone. No one was keen for the call to continue without my father, but I didn’t let that deter me. “Hell, I’ll just fucking charter one now.”
“Not necessary, Zane,” came the voice at the other end.
Inside, I exhaled in relief, these fuckers were testing me. “You mean, not necessary, Mr. Teague,” I gritted out in reply.
It was like I could hear the nervous swallow from over two thousand miles away without the need of a phone, and when the guy repeated the words to me, I knew how much it cost him to back down in pride alone.
“If I have to make another call like this, this shit escalates, and I won’t be held responsible for how I solve it.” I slammed the phone’s receiver down and sat back in my father’s chair. With my elbows on the chair arms, I steepled my fingers, resting my chin on them.
“You look good there.” My father’s voice came from the door, breaking into my thoughts. “Guess they were a bunch of pussies and thought they could push their luck.”
“Aren’t they always?” I queried, wondering whether he’d kill me if I finished his glass of scotch that he’d barely taken a sip of.
“Always, but I have a feeling you got the measure of the problem.”
“Might have to go over there and see it through.”
For the first time ever, he walked into his own study and sat in the guest chair opposite his own. “We do what it takes. Just remember, always be prepared to carry out a threat son. The minute you give an inch, they’ll bend you over and fuck you until they’ve bled you dry.”
“Noted.”
We both fell silent. The atmosphere strange. “She still asleep?”
“No, son. She’s gone…” His voice broke at the end before whispering, “Thank you.”
I didn’t need to ask what he was thanking me for, I knew it was for making him go to her, he’d never have forgiven himself, if he hadn’t given her the one last thing she wanted, to be with the man she loved tirelessly right until the very end.
I reached for an empty crystal glass and the decanter and poured myself a healthy slug of the good stuff. When I gave him his glass, he waited for me. “To Ellena,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“To Mom,” I repeated, and threw back the liquid, feeling it burn and flow through the hole inside me that my mom used to occupy.
Her funeral a few weeks later was a pompous affair, fitting of the circus expected for my father’s wife. People came from far and wide and I stood by his side, taking it all in. I knew my real education began when I stepped in and took that call for him, but things changed the moment it became just to the two of us. Slowly but surely, he brought me in on all his deals, until I was able to handle some independently.
The prince in training was coming into his own, and it wasn’t long before the king of the Teague family abdicated his rule. My dad understood one principle thing about business. It was change and evolve when required, and in a world where his opponents were getting younger, slicker, more devious and downright dirty, he already had the perfect answer to keep the scales balanced evenly.
Me.
My disruptive nature matched them every step of the way, and they weren’t prepared for me.
In our game you either accepted when it was time to fold your hand of cards, or risk someone taking them from you, and if he let that happen, what was the point to it all?
I caught my father laughing at a news article in his office one day, and as I approached his desk, he threw it at me. It described being disruptive in business as ‘chic,’ then went on to ask the question, ‘are you a disruptor?’
I laughed and mumbled, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I was self-taught.
At the end of that asinine article they posed a question, ‘does all success require disruption?’ I screwed that paper up and threw it on the log fire in my father’s study.
“Once again, son, legit business is behind the curve and scrambling to catch up.”
I was living proof of that, because my father sat opposite me smiling, with pure pride emanating from somewhere soul deep.
Years later, he took a step back, and relinquished his throne, happy to sit sipping cocktails, gambling his hard-earned spoils in the casinos of Monte Carlo.
The prince was finally the king.
Chapter Three
No one ever really knows the truth.
Well, only a handful of trusted people.
The real, deep down, gut dirty filth that hides behind the masks that people wear.
The rest.
They think they know what goes on, but they’re wrong.
Take me, for instance, this hotel was seriously exclusive, functions here got booked up nearly two years in advance. Not if you’re me though, or my best friend. If I wanted the main ballroom, it was mine. The Grand Central Hyatt would cancel any other booking in a heartbeat to keep me happy. I should’ve felt guilty that some poor fucker who had the foresight to plan the major event in their life, a supposed happy one, lost out. Because of whom I was, I fucked with those plans by simply walking through a door, flashing a sideways look at the manager and clicking my fingers.
I smiled inside.
People rarely saw me smile on the outside.
Not unless I was knuckle deep in blood or pussy, that was.
That poor, prepared motherfucker got his wedding, his christening, maybe even a bar mitzvah cancelled. I didn’t give a fuck if it was his mother’s funeral. None of it would matter for shit if I wanted it instead.
If I wanted something. I got it. No in-between.
The people standing at the bar drinking the liquor I’d paid for, the people dancing to the band I demanded change their plans and be here for my best friend’s wedding, hell, even the hotel staff all thought they knew me.
They didn’t. They saw what I wanted them to see.
And what you saw depended on who you were, how high up the ladder you were and whether I wanted you to live or die. Simple as that.
The only single thing they all got to see was the rage, the unpredictable air of danger that I held close to the surface. It was the one thing no mask could control, and it frightened people, like it should. I didn’t have a grip on my dangerous side, it’s what kept people in their place, me in mine and ultimately, me alive and the top of my food chain.
Being predictable was everyone else’s mistake.
Disruption was my game.
Living on the edge of my control was how I operated at the top.
And that was where I intended to stay.
“Oh, Zane, when’re you gonna settle down, find a nice lady to take care of you?”
Someone else who was predictable was Jameson’s grandma. She’d been asking me this since I had my first legal shot of brandy in the Roach factory when I was twenty-one.
That factory was now mine. I’d made it mine because they thought I couldn’t.
“I’m h
appy as I am. Anyway, what have you been saying for as long as I care to remember? ‘be one hell of a chick who can tie me down.’”
It was a white lie. I was happy…ish. I fucked anything I wanted, and no one said no to me on that score either.
But I couldn’t help it, as I finished those words off, my eyes automatically scanned the bodies around me for the only woman I’d ever known that could possibly be that woman. Jameson’s gran had taken me under her wing when I became inseparable from the Roach twins and I’d always called her grandma. Even with my ‘grandma’ in my arms, waltzing around like the good ‘grandson’ I was, it was an impossible task to rein in the feelings. Seeing her, Bailey Roach, caused the blood to pump faster through my body, surge to my dick and make me want to drag her somewhere, tie her up and fuck her until she screamed or bled, preferably both.
The problem was I’d stupidly promised her brother, my best friend, Jameson Roach, that I would never go there. When he joined me in the life of crime, he was clear that his sister was to stay free of it.
I was the boss; he was my second in command.
I’d just never expected him to hold me to it. Just like I’d never expected him to settle down. His new wife, Kerry, was another woman in his life who didn’t know what he was truly capable of.
“I see you looking at Bay,” conspired the old woman, who’s paper thin hand rested in my own.
“You need to visit the ophthalmologist. Those glasses must be faulty.”
“Cheeky, I could still clip you round the ear.”
“I’m well aware of it.”
I might kill, maim and make people live their life according to my rules, but this was one adult I held respect for. I pulled her closer, part instinct to feel her in my arms and part shield so she couldn’t see she was right.
We spun round the dancefloor at Jameson’s wedding, my gift to him was giving his bride the hotel she’d dreamed of for her celebration. Jameson could have secured the venue himself, but he’d have hated that he’d strong armed someone for his own wedding. I hoped he wasn’t going fucking soft. Then I realized I didn’t care, I liked exerting power.
My power.
Bailey was stood off the side of the dance floor, talking to a guy who I knew was no good for her. She talked and smiled at him and it burned that the fuck replied back to her chest. A fucking magnificent chest that would look even better covered in my cum than it did in the dusky rose cocktail dress she was wearing. Knowing that she was maid of honor and I was head groomsman, meant I got to walk her down the aisle. That was the only reason I didn’t talk Jameson out of tying his shit down to an outsider. Still, that short fifty-foot walk was a cruel twist of fate, something I’d often dreamed about doing but not as part of someone else’s wedding party, but as husband and wife. The one woman who had nerves of steel enough to stand by my side at the head of the family. I thought back to that moment, when she linked her arm in mine, and I knew it was more than just wanting to bang her like some childhood crush, I knew I’d never love someone the way I loved her.
As the music hummed to a close, I made one last pass of her, but my attention was drawn elsewhere.
Standing by the door, out of sight but still very much in my eyeline was Bishop, my other trusted general and with a single nod, I knew it was time.
I waited until the music finally ended. “Grandma, you’re the prettiest girl in here tonight, this is why I can’t find someone, no one holds a candle to you. Let me help you back to your seat.”
She blushed. “Smooth talker.”
As I escorted her through the throng of people clapping the band politely, I noticed the eyes on me. The men who were wary, some from sheer terror, the rest from admiration, and their bored women whose curiosity and desire were always there as far I was concerned. I bid my farewells to more of the Roach’s extended family, remaining polite, but knowing our hatred was equal and headed for the door, smoothing a hand over my thick brown hair.
Walking back through the entrance to the wedding celebration, Bishop fell into step beside me, slowing until he was the slightest pace behind me, a show of respect he always afforded me. “And?” I asked under my breath as we wound away from the two-step tune that had started up.
“As you suspected, Boss.”
“I could do without this fucking disruption today,” I murmured, and Bishop chuckled. He knew I was all about unexpected disruptions; it was what kept my blood pumping.
Bishop only ever called me boss when there were other people around. In reality, he was one of my closest friends and confidantes. I’d never asked him to call me this, but I knew why he did. Bishop was old school, raised by some of the toughest, nastiest motherfuckers out there and showing his respect for me in front of others helped me keep my status and position without fuss. Bishop calling me boss, reminded everyone of who I was. If everyone thought it was okay to refer to me as Zane then his job of protecting me would be harder, so while I knew it was for their benefit, in reality, it was really for his. It saved him having to slice up the masses for being disrespectful. Bishop was clever and should never be underestimated. Those that had, usually ended up in an unmarked, shallow hole in the middle of nowhere. Next to the bodies of people I’d slayed and laid out myself.
“Fuck.” I wasn’t sure whether my curse was because of what was to come next or because the edge of my mask was lifting and the monster within me was fighting for freedom. I continued, my pace gathering purpose, my mind settling over what I was about to do as I pushed through the deserted kitchen doors. “CCTV?”
“Sorted. Disabled,” Bishop responded.
Perfect. The mask could come off then. After all, this fucker deserved what was about to happen. Once alone, Bishop stepped in front of me and led me to the emergency exit at the back and threw it wide open, a gust of wind and city smog fought against the air I breathed.
Outside, waiting for me, beaten and barely able to hold himself up on the knees he’d already been begging on, was the man I’d been hunting for a month. The man who betrayed Bailey Roach in the worst possible way.
My Bailey.
“Mr. Teague! Sir!” His words were oddly fumbled around his broken jaw and bloody, thick tongue.
“Are we confident we got them all?” I asked one of the men waiting by the back door of a black van, completely ignoring the fucker in front of me.
“Reckon so, Boss,” he replied with a nod.
“Good. It’s done then.”
“I didn’t think! I didn’t think it—” The worthless piece of trash scuttled forward to plead his case and I crouched down to give him the opportunity to look me in the eye.
“Stop.” My words were calm, but I was feeling anything but. “Everyone knows she’s protected. Everyone. Posting that video was about the dumbest fucking thing.”
“Let me make it right!” he pleaded.
“You will do.”
I stood, shrugged off my designer silk tuxedo jacket, careful to make sure the dusky rose pocket handkerchief didn’t fall out as I handed it to Bishop.
The fucker on the floor whimpered and wailed as Bishop took his gun from the inside of his jacket and handed it to me.
I didn’t want this to be clean, I wanted to remove parts of him, piece by piece and show them to him as he screamed, but that wasn’t on the cards this time.
I looked left, then right, up and down the alley to make sure no one had appeared and held the gun aloft. That feeling of letting my rage take control rushed through me, infected every cell, pore and fiber of me. My monster was feeling righteous at protecting the woman he loved, a woman who didn’t know she’d been filmed tied to a bed while being train fucked by a group of men. A woman who’d never understand the lengths I’d go to just to protect her. I’d killed each and every one of them, the man in front of me was the last one left. When I thought back to the video, I wasn’t sure what triggered my rage, her enjoying that sort of action and not being the one to give it to her, or the men daring to touch what was mine
and off limits, and both of them defying me.
Yeah… she defied me and when it wasn’t making me hard, it made me fucking rage.
Like time slowed and the movement of the world around had been sucked into a vortex, I felt my grip tighten on the gun and my finger squeeze the trigger. A single bullet left the chamber and slammed through the forehead of the cocksucker who had crossed me by playing with the woman I loved. He fell back and slumped onto the plastic that had been laid out behind him.
“Get rid of this.” I ordered to the man nearest to me, nodding at the lifeless lump of flesh on the ground and handing him the gun.
“Boss,” Bishop looked me up and down, “I think you’ll need a change of shirt.”
I looked down and to the left of my tie, over the place where my heart was beating wildly, was a splatter of blood.
As Bishop removed his shirt and I removed mine, I was reminded of our connection.
We had the same words inked into our skin from when we joined the family business for real, from shoulder to shoulder, curved under our neck across our collar bones was a motto we lived and died by.
‘Loyalty Respect Family.’
A connection that meant we’d do whatever it took to keep the other alive and even though he’d pledged to serve me, even die for me, when the time came; or if the need arose, I would do exactly the same for him.
Because that was what you did when you became one of us.
A Teague.
Chapter Four
It had been too long since I’d seen Bailey, every time she poked her perfect body and feisty attitude into my world, I palmed her off to deal with someone else. It was just easier that way. I lost focus when she was in my space, fuck, I even lost focus when she was in my head and I knew being so close to her at Jameson’s wedding would screw me up again. There were two choices with that girl, cut her out of your life, or put her in a cage and bring her out for fun and fucking. I was still hovering around the middle somewhere.
Disruption Page 3
