by Madeline Fay
Logan
Music thumps through my veins with the thick cloud of smoke in the air that comes from Tey as he slumps into the couch, exhaling the stench of weed through his mouth without a care in the world. My arms clench the cushions on either side of me as I blow out a frustrated, bored breath. God, same thing, different day on an endless loop.
I. Am. Bored.
“You like that, baby?” Paris's annoying voice croons from between my legs and I roll my head down lazily until I’m staring at her kneeling position as her mouth moves up and down my dick in a sloppy mess.
Is it too much to ask for my cock to be treasured like a vanilla ice cream cone that you keep licking until you're down to the cone instead of this race she’s doing in the wannabe porn Olympics? Tey chuckles next to me in amusement at my expense before reaching over and threading his black painted nails through her hair, holding the back of her head, and shoving down until she’s choking on my dick. That’s better but still missing something. The fucker holds her down until I actually feel a spark and releases her just as I start to feel a tingle in my spine. I watch tears leak from her eyes at being choked by my cock. She comes up gasping, coughing, and flicks her eyes to Tey with a wary look even though she smiles wobbly. She has a right to be nervous, she’s just a body to be used and yet keeps coming back for more. It might be time to cut her loose before she thinks I’m going to keep her. Paris follows me around like a lost puppy, hoping to sink and hook me just because both of our parents come from money. I’ve fucked other girls behind her back, and plenty in front of her at parties to prove my point. She means nothing to me. Guess the dollar signs keep people around. It’s a turnoff, the smell of desperation and having the same thing more than once makes me shiver because fuck that. I’m meant to taste all the flavors, not settle for one.
“You almost done there, buddy? We gotta take care of that thing. Paris, are you going to leave my boy hanging, or can you open your mouth wide to get the job done?” Tey questions lazily gesturing between us with his hand that holds a joint, bobbing his head to the music and looking relaxed from the weed in his slouched position.
Sitting in the VIP section of Toxic, one of the hottest spots in LA has its benefits, it drowns out the voices and allows us to talk business without straining to be heard over the loud music. Too fucking bad this bitch won’t take the hint to leave even after telling her point blank to get the fuck out. Always on her knees even in front of my friends, she doesn’t care as long as she thinks I’ll put a ring on her finger one day. Like I said, desperation comes off her in waves. She only proves me right when she unzips my pants, and now I’m soft instead of being hard to the point it’s almost painful.
“Poor Logan, just isn’t enough anymore, is it? We need something new to toy with, maybe a new pet.” Tey chuckles as he sits up, taking one more exhale before crushing the joint under his boot and blowing the smoke in Paris’ face.
She coughs, looking away from him, and starts to reach for my dick again with a determined glint in her brown eyes. “Want to come on my tits instead, baby? I know you like that, I won’t even clean up after so everyone knows I’m yours.” She pleads up at me but I have my pants zipped up in seconds and my gun pressing against her temple. I’m a sick bastard who gets off on fear and it stinks coming out of her pores.
“Get the fuck out, Paris. You aren’t mine and never will be. I don’t settle for one girl. Leave before I decide to put a bullet through your skull.” My tone comes out bored but I wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger with her brain matter painting the walls.
You get raised by a monster, you become the monster, and that’s exactly what I am.
“Oh no! Run, little deer, run!” Tey hollers through his laughter as she scrambles away on shaking legs like a fawn and finally fucking leaves to blend in with the rest of the writhing bodies on the dance floor.
“This shit is getting so old. Let’s get the fuck out of here, go deal with that little fucking weasel and pick up the merch. My dad’s going to blow a gasket if we don’t stop at the precinct and get the drugs out of there before the FBI comes sniffing around.” I unbutton the top of my white button down shirt with a growl of frustration, hating how restricted I feel in my tailored dress pants and classic shoes that any gentlemen should have in their closet… too bad the outfit doesn’t fit who I am.
Be classy as fuck, show some dominance that matches the suit as you beat a man to death, never spill a drop of blood on your iron pressed shirt.
Tey rubs his hands together in glee next to me, winking as we pass two girls making out in the middle of the hallway trying to catch our attention.
“My brother from another mother, do you think I can check out the supplies before handing it over to dear old daddy dearest?” He smiles jokingly but under that, I can hear his need.
Tey is like a walking corpse, a little dead inside but somehow still managing to roam around. I think bouncing from foster home to foster home has fucked him up more than he lets on, his need to escape every second of the day worries me but that’s why I’m here. To keep him in line so he can make it past thirty fucking years old. It’s why I’m the fucking leader in our small tight knit group.
“Don’t let me hear that fucking shit come out of your mouth again. The answer is no. I need your head clear for this. I’ll let you take a few stabs at the warehouse to get your high.”
Do I sound like a harsh bastard? Yeah, but that’s just who I am. Harsh, cold but I love my boys so I’ll be whoever I need to be for them. Besides, if we fuck this shit up, we are all going down until the bars slam shut and I’ll be stuck in one place. That can’t happen.
“You always take the fun away.” He grumbles behind me but picks up his dragging feet when we exit through the back door and he rushes over to my one true love with the keys twirling on his finger.
“Not the Corvette, Tey!” I growl at him as my hand moves lovingly over the hood of my glossy black beauty before getting into the passenger seat. “You're a shit, just don’t scratch her.” Might as well let him have this high adrenaline rush. The engine rumbles and Tey cranks up the music before peeling out of the parking lot.
“Fuck yeah!” He howls out the window like a fucking animal and guns it towards the warehouse so we can have some fun with the little fucktard who decided to become a traitor. Nothing like beating a man on a Saturday evening and washing your sins away Sunday morning at church.
“I’ll only ask you one more time, Lenny. Where the fuck is the money?” I wipe my hands on the handkerchief that’s always in my back pocket, wiping the blood away from my cracked knuckles calmly as I wait for his excuse.
“I’m telling you, I don’t have the money or the missing drugs! I was just doing my job like I was told by your father. ‘Take the counterfeit money from the warehouse’, he said, ‘deliver it and bring the coke back here!’ I never ratted out to the FBI where the meth lab is, they showed up raiding the place with the SWAT team and took the drugs just before I made it down the street. I would never tell no cops!” Lenny shouts, his body trembling in the chair I tied him to not too long ago.
Tey is bouncing on his toes next to me, about to explode to cause some violence, the crazy fucker. I step back to admire my handiwork, this dumb motherfucker didn’t think we’d realize that some of the supplies would slowly go missing with each shipment. Taking the drugs wouldn’t be the biggest deal, maybe a few pops to his kneecaps would get our message across. But man, you messed with the wrong people thinking you can steal their money. Lenny showed up tonight at the warehouse my old man owns in the bad part of the outskirts of L.A. and actually thought it would be a brilliant idea to change out the good coke as a replacement with the bad shit that you can find on any street corner. Our stuff is pure and clean, expensive as hell, and keeps the clients coming back for more, so catching him in the act made this even sweeter. I’m not sure he was the one to pass the information to the FBI about where one of our meth labs is but something isn’t adding up,
so now I have to go into the station to handle it. Lenny’s currently panting through each breath, could be from the broken ribs I just gave him or the blood dripping down the back of his throat from his nose that I repeatedly hit. Usually, this is Dalton’s type of thing, he loves to use his fist but he’s busy tonight in the underground ring, pounding the shit out of someone else at the moment.
“Let me at him, Logan! I wonder if it squeals like a pig and looks like one, if that makes him a pig? I brought my favorite knife.” Tey’s voice comes out as an excited purr, I wouldn’t be surprised if the fucker is semi hard right now.
Lenny looks between the two of us frantically, shivering from the cold, gulping as he looks at the meat hanging from hooks in the depth of the freezer and the clear tarp hanging from floor to ceiling surrounding him. This isn’t our first rodeo and I think he’s finally getting it through his thick skull that the last image he’ll see is skinned pigs swinging from the ceiling.
“Okay! O-kay! I’ll talk! I did take a swipe of some of the blow, but that’s it! I s-swear! It was only one hit. I don’t know nothing about no money being taken or being a snitch to the f-fuzz,” Lenny stutters, sweating like a fucking pig…How ironic. I think the guy belongs in here with the other meat, it’s like destiny or something.
I exchange a look with Tey, seeing the twinkle in his eyes and we both come to the conclusion that Lenny’s telling the truth. I straighten to my full height, slicking back my brown hair that hangs in my eyes, and adjust my cuffs before giving a single nod to Tey.
“Finally! This gives me the perfect opportunity to try out my artistic skills. Thank you for your tribute, I’m about to create a masterpiece,” Tey whispers and without hesitation whips out his knife from God knows where and slashes across Lenny’s throat.
Tey must have hit an artery because Lenny’s blood squirts out of his neck like a bottle of ketchup, splatting against the clear tarp. He’s fucking lucky I moved across the freezer before he started. If he got one drop of blood on my clothes, I’d have to murder him. I’ve been doing this for a while but I like being clean, thank you very much.
“Hurry up, we still have to get to the precinct to switch out the evidence. Fucking Lenny. If he wasn’t the snitch to the FBI about the raid or missing money… looks like we have a traitor in our kingdom. Can’t have that happening now, can we?”
Leaving the warehouse behind, I see out of the corner of my eye Tey wiping blood off his arms with a baby wipe while he grins the whole time over to the precinct. Rolling my eyes as we step out of my car, I toss Tey the black duffle from the trunk once we get there and he pretends to zip his lips just as we start climbing the steps into the building. The moment we slide through the doors, the noise and chaos are almost overbearing but it helps us slip by unnoticed. Phones ring off the hook, men in suits milling around barking orders while a few grab their guns and rush by us to answer a call coming through. Perfect time to pick up the supplies, there are less cops around the station once the sun goes down. Los Angeles precincts are crazy busy on a regular night and Gale, the receptionist, just waves from behind her desk when I wink at her and point towards the direction of my father’s office. Nobody thinks twice about us being here because me and my boys grew up around cops with my father being Chief and all.
“Like stealing candy from a hooker.” Tey chuckles as we step into the elevator and he pushes the basement level button.
“You mean from a baby, not a hooker.” I roll my eyes at him, staring straight ahead as the light dings for our floor.
“Naw, hookers love their lollipops. It’s how they get those tongue tricks down, my brother, I’m going to have to hire you a hooker for the night. Let’s pop that cherry.” He snickers under his breath and jogs ahead before I can smack him upside the head.
“Shut the fuck up and just grab the dope.” My order comes out loud and clear, forcing him to be serious for the moment as I punch in the code for the evidence storage room that’s full of crime scenes to drug busts.
I’m just here for the drugs.
“Case number thirty-three. Find it and switch the coke with the fake powder.” I’m grumpy as hell, on constant edge because we shouldn’t have to be here in the first place.
Fucking Lenny... I’ll make anyone who’s talking to the cops regret the day they were born.
Tey nods, swinging the bag over his shoulder with a whistle as he disappears around a shelving unit. So many cases of crimes, disaster, some unsolved, some under trial but look how easy it was for us to slip in here. Nothing but Los Angeles love in this evidence room, so much hate, and violence just like how the city is. Little do the citizens know that Franco, Chief of their beloved city, would have a hand in dealing with the most criminal cases in one form or another. Everyone is deep in his pockets, including myself. My phone won’t stop vibrating against my thigh and the distracting constant messaging coming in can only be one person.
Why does he insist on calling constantly when I’m old enough to get the job done without him checking in? I answer without looking at my phone as my eyes skim over an evidence box containing items from a brutal murder, home invasion in the suburbs.
“Chief. It’s almost done, we’ll be dropping the package off before-” My father interrupts me and I motion with my hands to Tey as he comes around the corner to cut off the whistling.
“Get home right the fuck now! No stopping, Logan, just get home.” He commands with an authority that never fails to make me stand up straighter and harden my heart until eventually nothing will be left.
He hangs up, not letting me get in another word but that's just how it goes because he’s the boss. A boss of thousands of corrupt and good police officers but also of a network of crime. He has so many people in his pockets, from the lowest ranking officer to the governor… the Chief of L.A. is untouchable.
My mama used to put him in his place, her Italian side would come out, and she grounded him whole. She was beautiful, elegant, and graceful but we all went off the deep end when she was murdered by a rival gang that Dad had to go undercover in when he was a rookie. He sent the bad guys to jail but one always slips through the cracks and it was what tore our family apart. He worked endlessly to bring our family justice but was kicked off the case because he was too close to it. He started that day at the bottom but climbed himself to the top so he could have the power where no one would even think about trying to take him down. He once said if you can’t beat them, join them, and that’s exactly what he did. He used to be a hero figure to the community, a police officer who wanted to make a difference, but something changed in him when Mama was lowered into the ground. He became cold hearted and turned to the other side of the law. Most fear him and respect him at the same time.
“We gotta go. I’m pretty sure my stepmom is throwing a big fucking fit again that she didn’t get what she wanted.” My voice comes out in a growl, I’m so sick of her shit.
Ever since my father met her, distracted by her beauty the moment she fell into his arms on the street. She snatched him away and takes his fucking money which he just turns a blind eye to. That is why I’ll never fall prey to a beautiful woman who is only after one thing.
“They’ve been together for a few years, I honestly thought he’d get sick of the same pussy each night, but guess not. At least you got a mommy.” Tey grabs his stomach, chuckling madly, thinking he’s a funny comedian but we both know he’d switch places with me in a heartbeat.
He grew up in the foster system although he’s spent half his childhood in my house along with Dalton and Nicky. They are my brothers even if we don’t share the same blood.
“Let’s just get out of here. You grab all the supplies?” I ask him as I start walking out of the evidence room with him taking his sweet time following. “No testing the goods and whatever you have in your hands, put it the fuck back.”
I don’t even have to bother looking, his need to steal something can get out of control unless I put him in line or Dalton does. Usually t
hat fucker would just sit on him until he gives up and stops trying to steal shit that can get him into trouble because it doesn’t matter when or where…he’ll get his sneaky fingers on anything to keep as his. I think it’s abandonment issues so he takes control of something that he can call his to keep.
“Always ruining my fun, I swear, Lo. You need to get laid. Let’s get this over with so I can sharpen my knives.”
And he says I need to get laid? I can’t even remember the last time he’s had pussy. We reach the first floor, passing a bored looking Gale again, who is ten times our age but that doesn’t stop her from looking at us like we’re a snack. I’m a fucking dessert, not a small mussel to gobble in one bite. I’m the whole deal that makes you moan and beg for more until you're full.
“Logan Russo! Is it true that there is corruption within the law enforcement of Los Angeles and your father is well aware of the problem?” The most annoying voice speaks from behind me, her clicking heels trying to catch up to us.
“Nope! No. Not dealing with her. Make the bad thing go away Logan before I do something drastic like slit her throat. She won’t be talking anymore after,” Tey mumbles, and speed walks ahead of me as if he’d rather be anywhere else but here.
I couldn’t agree more.
With a deep sigh, I pinch my nose and pray for patience. This fucking reporter is like a hound with a bone, somehow always sniffing me out and never goes away. She might be my number one stalker, can’t tell you how many times she’s shown up wherever I am. I can never tell if she wants the biggest story of her career or to hop on my big cock. Might be both. Spinning around, I confront Elle, journalist for the Los Angeles Times. All blonde, long legs in fuck me heels, big fake tits, and a woman who’s always staring at me like she wants me to fuck her into next week. Practically begs for it with the way she leers at me like I’m a fucking piece of meat dangling in her face, but personally it does nothing for me, not even a twitch in the south department. There isn’t a challenge, a chase, and I can only smell desperation off of her. My brow arches as she places her red nails on my bicep, squeezing my arm while licking her lips suggestively, not once noticing my hostile stare while I fantasize about snapping her neck.
