The Bad Ass Brigade: Bad Guys Beware. The Good Guys Are on the Prowl (A Taylor Lee Sizzling Romantic Suspense Collection)

by Taylor Lee

  Gabe wanted to believe that at one time his father had loved his mother. Maybe when the raven-haired beauty with the emerald green eyes shocked her society family, and fell in love with the brash red-haired Irishman from the decidedly wrong side of the tracks. Breena Doyle’s family had made it. They’d eschewed their poor Irish roots and clawed their way to the top of Boston society. To the ranks where money talked, even new money, if it was plentiful enough. And the Doyle money, disregarding its source, was one of the largest fortunes in the new Boston elite. In time, even Brendon Doyle came to admire his reprobate son-in–law. Like attracts like. And it was clear that Brendon and Rory were cut from the same cloth. Neither apologized for the questionable sources of their wealth. Both knew how to impose their will on powerful men, with outright violence or the threat of blackmail — often the more potent tool with men who had a reputation to protect.

  But it was their treatment of women that bonded the two degenerates. In time, they were trading women, sharing them, or simply passing them along until a drunken cuckolded man drove a sword through Brendon’s throat, missing his unfaithful wife’s heart by mere inches. Brendon’s death left the throne open. Rory didn’t hesitate to grab the crown.

  Gabe was seven or eight when he started asking his mother about the bruises on her face; why she was crying. But even at that young age, he knew her tears always followed screaming arguments with his father. He’d tried to protect her, but he couldn’t. His father just batted him away, cursing the fucking devils that gave him a scrawny son with black hair and green eyes, just like his mother. Over the years, Breena stopped fighting back. First it was the laudanum that glazed her eyes, made her sleep through the days and wander the house at night. Not answering, no matter how hard Gabe pounded on her door, or begged her to talk to him. But it was the opium, the white death, that finally stole her away from Gabe. Since the time he was twelve, he couldn’t remember a coherent conversation with his mother.

  Her drug use infuriated his father, never acknowledging that it was his violent drunkenness and promiscuity that caused her downfall. Before Gabe left home at sixteen, Rory had given up on niceties. It wasn’t unusual to wake up to four or five women in various stages of undress parading through the house, ignored or unnoticed by his thin mother with her pale face, vacant stares, and disheveled clothes.

  Gabe hated his father even more than his father hated him. His father enjoyed taunting him. First, because he was small, weak. But as Gabe grew taller and stronger and his exploits with the bullies in the alleyways became known, Rory tried to reclaim the son who now looked like he had potential. When Gabe ignored him, refused to speak to him, was as silent to his father as his mother was to him, Rory struck back. Over and over, he drove it through Gabe’s head, “Don’t think you can get rid of your blood, son. Blood is thicker than water and nothing can change that. And you ungrateful little pissant, you’re doubly cursed. You got the blood from both of us. Your mother’s ain’t any purer than mine.”

  When Gabe last saw his father, the big man was naked, towering over the three strange women hovering at his feet. He shook his fist at Gabe, who now had an inch on him, and roared, “You ungrateful little fucker. You think you can just leave? Turn your back on everything I’ve created for you? Damn you, Gabe! You’re Rory McKenna’s son. Nothing will ever change that! Nothing! You hear me?”

  Gabe had just shrugged, hoisted his pack higher and closed the door behind him. The clothes on his back and the few supplies in his pack were the last things he ever took from his father. He hadn’t seen him or spoken to him in twelve years. He’d heard that his father had put his mother in a sanitarium a few years back. Gabe didn’t try to find her. When he’d said good-bye to her that last day, she had stared at the sixteen-year-old as if she didn’t recognize him, as if he were a stranger. She’d begged her maid to send him away. The last words he heard was her pathetic whisper, “Make that boy go. He doesn’t belong here.”

  Gabe had comforted himself with the thought that his mother was right. He didn’t belong there.

  Chapter 19

  Eagle stared at the notes spread across the table. His frown was as dark and intense as his eyes. He glanced over at Gabe before speaking.

  “We agree. This is an inside job. No question about it.”

  He picked up the two stacks of notes, the ones from Chao and the ones from Ana and laid them out side by side. Then the brown man continued.

  “Even though there is a modest attempt to differentiate the signatures, there are intentional giveaways. The sender wants Chao to know it is the same person, that he can get as close to Ana as he can to Chao. Think about it, Gabe: it’s one thing to get notes to a guy in his business, even a man as powerful and protected as Chao. There are hundreds of people who could get one of these notes inside Chao’s offices, from the guy who delivers their booze, to his most trusted advisers. But to Ana? In their family home? Damn, you said she found one of them at that canyon hideout of hers. That is a familiarity, a closeness that can’t be ignored.”

  Gabe nodded and dragged his hands through his hair, not trying to hide his concern.

  “Yeah, Eagle, it was that note she found at the canyon that did it to me.” He shook his head, a mix of disgust and anger choking him. “But knowing that doesn’t narrow it down much. According to Clem, everyone from the scullery maids to those assholes who attacked her know where she goes every day — and when. And Ana sure isn’t much help.”

  He picked up one of the notes and pointed to the handwriting in the corner. “If I hadn’t seen her notation where she found this, I never would have known that someone put this up at the waterfall. Fuck, he probably was hiding in the bushes watching her when she discovered it, gloating over her reaction.”

  Gunnar reached over and refilled Gabe’s glass. Pushing his cowboy hat back off his face, the Swede’s eyes narrowed as he focused on his friend, “I take it the little Chinese recluse isn’t being forthcoming with her would-be knight in shining armor?”

  A quick flash of pain in Gabe’s eyes was Gunnar’s answer. As was his disgusted snort. “No, Gunnar, to both your questions. She isn’t telling me a goddamn thing that I don’t pry or threaten out of her, and the last thing she sees me as is a knight in shining armor.”

  Gunnar grinned, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t tell me the master lover, the conquering hero of all women, large and small, young and old, has met his match? A woman, a person of the female variety, hasn’t fallen prey to his infamous charms?”

  Gabe managed a grin that was closer to a grimace. “Nope, Gunnar. As surprising as it may be, Ana Ming Li is unimpressed with my charms. In fact, a better characterization would be that she despises them—and me.”

  Gunnar and Eagle exchanged a surprised glance, watching their partner swirl the amber liquid in his glass, then raise it to his lips and drain it.

  When Gabe reached out to refill his glass, Eagle intervened.

  “Okay, Gabe, we can see this one is hitting close to home. But the last thing I want is to deaden your ability to see the big picture. You always get the strategic view before either one of us. And I can tell by that gleam in your eyes that you’ve got a plan. Let’s hear it. Then we can congratulate you once again on your brilliance and we can all get drunk together to celebrate.”

  Gabe looked from one to the other of the men closest to him, and sighed.

  “Thanks, Eagle. And you, too, Gunnar. This one’s a bitch. Not only is it Chao they’re after, my friend and a man I admire, but they’re trying to take him down by going after his son and daughter. And yeah, Ana’s pushing buttons I didn’t know I had. Let’s just say she’s got my protective streak in high gear and it’s making it hard to keep perspective. That’s where you two come in. Yeah, I have a plan, but goddamn if you see any holes in it, don’t hold back. I’m concerned that I’m too close, that my judgment isn’t as good as it needs to be.”

  Ten minutes later, Gunnar called for another bottle of whisky. He
winked at Eagle as he filled their glasses.

  “Guess we didn’t have to worry about the big guy. He’s as sharp as he ever was. Hell, that’s reassuring. I don’t want anyone messing with the best three-way partner I’ve ever had.” He grinned at Eagle’s grunt. “Sorry, I meant to say one of the two best three-way partners I’ve ever had.”

  Eagle raised his glass, “I’ll drink to that!”

  Gabe saluted them both and grinned, taking a large swallow of the pungent liquid.

  Several hours later, as they were wrapping up their strategy session, Gabe recapped the critical points. Among the three of them they had identified the six men that fit most of their criteria for the perpetrator. All six had lost significant amounts of money to Chao Li over the past year, all knew Chao well enough to know his family, all were connected in some way to Dominic, and all had publically voiced their hatred for the Chinese.

  They agreed that they would position four of their men at Chao’s ranch incognito, letting Clem assign them to jobs that wouldn’t raise suspicions. Since everyone at the ranch had seen Eagle and Gunnar haul away Jake and Marty, there was no point in trying to disguise their participation. Instead, along with Gabe, the three of them would indicate that they were doing some work for Chao Li.

  Gabe tugged at his chin, a frown creasing his brow. “One more question that is nagging me: you know how I get when my neck starts itching. I have to figure it out or let it go. Clem said two of his men bailed on him to go work at the Harcourt spread next to Chao’s. Several days later, Jake and Marty show up looking for work. It could be nothing, but Clem says Peter Harcourt, one of the smarmiest assholes you’ll likely meet, is a frequent visitor at Chao’s place. I’m gonna be honest. Clem also said he’s there sniffing around Ana. That, according to Clem, makes him just one of eighty percent of the men in the county.”

  Gunnar looked over the various lists.

  “I dunno, Gabe. He’s not on Chao’s lists. We can find out easily enough if he hangs out at Dominic’s, when we get there tonight. We can ask around, see if anyone’s heard him making any derogatory comments about the Chinese. Seems unlikely, if he is really after Ana.”

  Gabe grimaced.

  “I’m sure you’re right. I’m probably overreacting to his interest in Ana. But let’s put him on the list, watch him close at the dance. See if he takes our bait.”

  “Hell, yeah, Gabe. The last thing we want to do is ignore that neck of yours. It’s the most important shit detector we have, except for Eagle’s visions.”

  Eagle huffed. “They’re not ‘visions,’ asshole. They’re insights.”

  Gunnar grinned. “Oh, right. Just because you go into that trance-like thing where your eyes roll back in your head and you turn a couple shades lighter isn’t ‘cause you’re seeing a vision, just getting an insight or two.”

  Eagle shook his head in disgust, but didn’t try to hide his grin.

  ~~~

  The Lucky Lady was the swankiest gambling palace in San Francisco and not incidentally the highest-class brothel. Dominic Vicente, the owner, insisted that it was a gentlemen’s club. Qualifying members didn’t have to be or even act like gentlemen. But they did have to have the wherewithal to pay the hefty membership fees and not balk at the cost of the liquor or the favors of Dominic’s “ladies.” Among the various entertainments that Dominic provided his eager clientele were monthly auctions of various sorts. Occasionally, fine jewelry was offered; a cattle ranch was one of the most significant prizes; and it was rumored that a very select group of members on rare occasions had the opportunity to “purchase” one of Dominic’s prized ladies for an erotic adventure.

  As much as Dominic valued his clientele, he valued star poker players more. And there was not another poker player in the West that rivaled the Ace Angel in star power. Smart club owners like Dominic understood that while Gabe might walk away with a large percentage of the take in any one evening, he was a magnet to every asshole who was convinced that it was bad luck – not lack of skill, that he had lost thousands of dollar to the Ace Angel the last time he was in town. Like cattle lining up at a rendering plant oblivious to their unhappy future, the suckers came back for more. Certain that this time they, not the Ace Angel, would rule the night. These were wealthy men, accustomed to purchasing their pleasure, no matter how outrageous the cost. The idea of beating the Ace Angel was a feat they were willing to pay astronomical sums to accomplish. It was a test of their manhood. It was understood that anyone who beat the black-haired, green-eyed phenomenon with the wicked grin would have bragging rights for life. But no one ever did… and they still lined up.

  The only one that got close to what Angel made in a night was Dominic. The more the chumps lost, the more they drank. And the more their manhood was threatened, the more enticing the Lucky Ladies seemed, even when the prices for their favors rose astronomically throughout the evening.

  As the evening was coming to a close, the dealer slipped Gabe a note inviting Gabe to join him in Dominic’s private quarters. Dominic and Gabe maintained a cordial relationship, the kind of relationship cultivated by alpha males in prides that shared territorial boundaries. If neither overstepped their bounds, the relationship was mutually profitable. Both knew how quickly a thoughtless move or a grab for power could upset the tenuous ties binding them.

  When the final game ended and the losers scuffled off to the various boudoirs, as Dominic called the whore’s private parlors, Gabe made his way to Dominic’s quarters.

  ~~~

  Gabe knocked on the door, and entered at Dominic’s command. The diminutive, impeccably dressed Italian gave him a curt nod, motioning him to one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Gabriel.” Nodding to the bar, he added, “Jameson? Or would you prefer Bushmills?”

  Gabe smiled at the casual extravagance. “Please, the Bushmills. You could entice me here any time, Dominic, with that fine whisky. It wouldn’t even matter if your tables weren’t as loose as they are. You really should consider a head tax on the players, collected up front. I slaughter your little lambs so quickly that you barely have time to get them drunk.”

  A slight smile quirked Dominic’s thin lips, “I understand you had a good night.”

  Gabe raised a brow. “As did you. I only earned a third again as much as you instead of my usual fifty percent more.”

  Dominic snorted, as close as he ever came to a laugh.

  Sipping on the fine whisky, Gabe studied his host, waiting for him to speak. Dominic never bothered with pleasantries, and he didn’t now.

  “What’s up with Chao Li?”

  “Care to be more specific?”

  “What the hell is this shindig about? Don’t act like you don’t know about it.”

  “Why would I? You know I do some work for Chao. Any reason he wouldn’t invite me to what promises to be an interesting evening. I understand Senator Webster will be there, shilling for the next election. I presume you’ll be there, Dominic, given that Webster is authoring a bill against a poll tax on whisky. How much of a campaign contribution will that cost you?”

  Dominic glared at him, then turned the tables.

  “Heard you’re making it with Chao’s daughter?”

  Gabe guffawed. “Who’d you hear that from? One of your illustrious members?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Hell no, It’s just that someone has quite an imagination.”

  Dominic’s dark eyes gleamed, and his hand moved surreptitiously to adjust his trousers. “Is it true that she is a virgin?”

  Gabe’s gut roiled. Only years of detached practice kept his voice calm, kept him from choking on his gorge. “I wouldn’t know. Haven’t made it past the sniffing stage.”

  Dominic’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Angel? The Ace Angel? Hasn’t made it past the sniffing stage?”

  With a careless shrug, Gabe allowed, “Hate to admit it, but she’s a hard one, a cold one. She’d rather ride a horse t
han a man,” He grinned, “Even a man like me.”

  Without warning, Dominic shifted subjects.

  “You ever do work for your father’s gang, Red Regan’s men?”

  Gabe took a sip of whisky, allowing the smooth alcohol to burn away the hatred he felt at the knowing reference to his father. “I haven’t seen or spoken to my father in twelve years.”

  Piecing him with an impatient glare, Dominic’s eyes narrowed, “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Gabe agreed. “Hmm, so I didn’t.”

  Dominic’s knee jerked impatiently. He couldn’t hide the nervous gesture.

  “I need information on Chao. What’ll it cost me?”

  “What do you need?” Gabe asked.

  The contained man sat back in his chair and crossed one knee over the other. Flicking at an invisible piece of lint on his trouser cuff, he allowed a dismissive sniff, “I’ll let you know at the party.”

  Gabe stood, drained the rest of the whisky in his glass, and set the empty glass on the carved side table.

  “Thanks for the whisky. Dominic. I gotta stop drinking that rotgut they serve in less cultured places. Wouldn’t want to lose my taste for the finer things in life.”

  He turned at the doorway and grinned.

  “I’ll let you know at the party how much it’ll cost you.”

  He gave him a slight bow, then turned and closed the door behind himself.

  ~~~

  As he walked through the nearly empty gambling parlor, Gabe nodded to the various bleary-eyed dealers who were counting chips, sorting coins and bills into neat piles. Many of them acknowledged Gabe with a pleasant smile or familiar wave.

  One rotund dealer who had been at Gabe’s table for most of the night called out. “Fuck, Angel, the poker gods was sure ‘nuff on your shoulder tonight. Maybe you are a fuckin’ angel, for real!”

  Gabe grinned and slipped him a gold fiver. “Hell, Charlie, don’t know about any assistance from on high, but it helps to have an honest dealer. That way I just have to worry about the cheaters at my table without watchin’ the dealer.”