The Beast of Boston

by JL Mac

  “What do you think, Beast? Can she apply for that other position?” The mouthy one with a broken nose says with emphasis on the word apply. He leans over jabbing the man beside him with the busted lip in the ribs and the both dissolve into more laughter.

  “We all know Beast loves interviewing applicants,” the other one adds, winning another round of fitful laughter from Mr. Mouthy. I peer at them, then at Mr. Rolex as his empty eyes take a sip of his vodka, then I look back to The Beast of Boston.

  “No offense, baby but you’d be a waste dancin’. Ain’t the right fit, huh Beast?” Mr. Mouthy says with a smirk. I raise a challenging brow but my eyes are locked with Beast’s.

  “Try me,” I whisper. The two punching bags whoop and laugh. Beast seems to be considering something but then he picks his glass of whiskey up, tosses it back in one long shot and sets it down.

  “No,” he says flicking his chin dismissively, and fuck me all to hell, I’m actually a little wounded by his blatant snub.

  I force myself to keep my mouth shut and turn to walk away feeling extremely dazed. It felt like I had my in so why did he dismiss me? Mr. Rolex commercial speaks quietly to Beast for a moment then the three men with him get to their feet. I step aside and watch as they head toward the door. I can actually feel my blood pressure rising. My blood buzzes in my chest, rising up my neck. I’m fucking this up. I’m failing Lan.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Those are my three words for today. And fuck him. I’m getting in. I’m getting closer to High Knoll. A challenge has never stopped me before. I watch them leave and as foolish as it probably is to pester The Beast of Boston I inch back toward his table. Beast stares at me without shame. Cultivating whatever courage I can, I reach down to the table and collect Mr. Rolex commercial’s tumbler. A small amount of clear liquid remains and I help myself to it.

  “Want another?” Beast asks.

  “Could I?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “All right then,” I say quietly. “May I?” I ask pointing to the pen peeking out from the breast pocket of his suit. He tilts his head, eyeing me like I’m either going to kill him or fuck him, perhaps both. I lean forward, pausing to peer up at him through my lashes and pull the pen from his pocket. Beast doesn’t move and neither do I for a long moment. I’m close to him—close enough to catch his scent and discover that his eyes aren’t brown or green or blue or any one color at all. They are a mix of everything, making his intense eyes a deep, frosty gray. My breath stalls in my throat and I lick my lips. He leans closer to me and looks at me like I’m an undiscovered species.

  “You should be more careful with what you wish for,” he warns coolly.

  “Maybe this is as careful as I get,” I counter on a whisper as seductive as I can manage which isn’t too hard being this close to this man.

  He cocks his head openly studying me, working toward a decision. “Fine. Be at my club tomorrow night at nine. Come prepared. Leave your contact info and paperwork with Noreen tonight,” he orders like a legitimate businessman.

  “You aren’t even my boss yet but you’re acting like it so does that mean I’m hired?” I chirp like an excited girl. Like Lan would.

  Beast gets to his feet and crowds closer to me, dominating my space with his scent and threatening energy. “You’re going do what I’ve asked of you not because of titles but because you know it’s in your best interest don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I swallow.

  “Tell me who your boss is, Ms. Tally,” he whispers. Malevolence dripping like poison honey from each syllable.

  “Apparently you are,” I whisper loud enough for only him to hear.

  “Don’t be late,” he warns.

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” I mumble then watch as he stalks away, leaving me nervous but grateful that High Knoll’s Captain just ordered me to Eden tomorrow night.

  The moment that dizzying combination of emotions fizzles, a new one emerges.

  Fear.

  I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared because if it was just that easy to win an invitation to audition at Eden, I have to wonder if my gorgeous, naïve little sister was right here too.

  Once I’m back in my temporary home, I kick out of my shoes and peel myself out of my clothing. Makeup removing wipes do the trick to erase the look I’ve adopted for Abigail Tally. With my mind reeling I go right for the shower to relax a bit and collect my thoughts. The stall is small and the water pressure is for the shits but it works and quite frankly I’ve had worse. I’ve gone without bathing at all.

  I shove all thoughts about the first ten years of my life aside and let the water slide over my tired limbs. I’m more mentally exhausted than physically tired. A big part of me wishes I could just tie Noreen, the doorman at Eden… The Beast himself to a chair and beat them until they spill everything they know about the young, blue eyed girl who I know came around months ago then vanished right outside their doorway. I envision the disturbed look on their faces as I slipped the blade of a knife across their necks just enough to draw blood, absolute fear and information.

  A little voice inside my head scolds me for entertaining the idea of playing vigilante. Another voice reminds me to sharpen the blade first.

  The water starts getting cold and I quickly rinse myself off and hop out. I have plenty of notes to make before catching some sleep. Just as Hack instructed me to do, I open my laptop, keeping it at eyelevel until it verifies that it’s me. The screen lights up, I cross my legs and get ready to get to it. When my document of notes and leads opens I quickly type out everything that has developed today. I type names and descriptions and make sure to put down the things that were said before I forget them.

  I could just be chasing my fucking tail. I have no concrete proof that she has ever even set foot in Eden.

  Feeling frustrated that I don’t have anything more substantial to put down tonight, I lean back against the headboard and take a bite of a granola bar as I try to collect my thoughts. I know what my dad would say right now. He’d remind me that a little patience goes a long way, and sometimes chasing your tail is required at the start. But I don’t have time to be patient. Lan may not have time for me to be patient.

  Maybe it’s too late.

  A voice echoes deep inside and it sets my heart thumping wildly in my chest and my throat squeezing. At this rate I’ll have a heart attack before I find her. I will need to focus on staying calmer. I get up from my bed and pace back and forth wondering what I’m missing and what else I can do. I reach for my cell phone noting that it’s late. I know I should try to get some sleep but I’m too anxious. I get down on the floor and run through a series of sit-ups, pushups, squats, and lunges, trying to smooth my frayed nerves and blow off some energy. By the time I stop moving, my muscles are on fire and I’m in need of another shower but my heart is no longer pounding with anxiety and my brain is no longer swimming with crazy ideas borne of emotion and desperation.

  Chapter Seven

  The Beast of Boston

  I glance down at the Rolex Or gave me for my thirtieth birthday only to find that the day is dragging by when I would love nothing more than for it to fast forward to tonight. I glance at the file Noreen left on my desk. A copy of Abigail Tally’s ID is blown up, displaying the details in full. I asked Noreen to get her employment packet to me as soon as possible, and here it is. There’s something about her—something that I just can’t shake. I have a feeling about the redhead. The trouble is, I can’t quite name it. I don’t recognize her. If I had seen her before I’d fucking remember.

  There’s something out of place though. I knew it and as usual I was right. Something is definitely off. I felt it the minute I’d seen her. Alarm bells sounded, and my guard flew up, but not before my cock did too. I’m not blind. The woman is stunning, an absolute knockout with long waves of hair that float around the small of her back as she walks, blue eyes and ivory skin. I’m not blind to the siren but I’m also
not a blooming idiot in spring. There was something about her—something amiss. Murph said he confirmed with Noreen that she’s vetted. Normally I’d leave Murph to handle things like this but something about that woman needed me to handle her.

  In more ways than one.

  Her license says her name is Abigail Tally, a twenty-two year old woman weighing one hundred twenty seven pounds and stands five feet three inches. It’s a fair amount of information about a person. But there’s more to this ID than meets the eye and the information it provides me with tells me a lot more about Abigail Tally than her address and physical description.

  This has Slip written all over it. I know his calling card when I see it and his handy work is easy enough to spot if you know what you’re looking for. His nickname is a fitting one because he can slip past just about any scrutinizing eye with his counterfeit documents and identification, but not me. His printer is slightly off. Something about the plastic gives off a barely-there hint of blue where the plastic should be perfectly clear. It’s damn easy to miss. Abigail Tally fucked up when she bought her fake ID from one of my associates. She paid a pile for it, too and the irony of that is that the fake ID she’s trying to scam me with was purchased from one of our people and as an associate Slip’s gains are our gains too. Money moves up in this world. Slip doesn’t do shitty work and his prices reflect as much. She likely dropped a few bills on this little piece of plastic and it only leaves me wondering why a woman who is clearly an adult would be inclined to drop a wad of cash for a fake ID so she can go take her clothes off for cash.

  I plan on finding out exactly what led her to Slip and to Eden. Everyone knows what they say about enemies and friends. I’ve invited the stunning little liar right into my domain. She’ll be at my mercy. She already is, she just doesn’t realize it yet.

  The thought of her red lips popping open in shock has my cock tingling. I grab my phone and dial Slip to confirm what I already know.

  “Beast,” he greets sounding a little shocked. Normally I wouldn’t bother calling an associate like Slip. Murph would delegate one of our guys to handle any job requiring his expertise.

  “Gotta question,” I begin as I look into vivid eyes on a fake ID. “Seen any redheaded women with big doe eyes and a fuckable mouth lately? A buck twenty or so, five foot and some change?” A short silence ensues before Slip hums into the phone.

  “Beast, my man,” he crows excitedly. “This woman popped up a few weeks ago with the most fuckable mouth you’ve ev—”

  I growl into the receiver feeling all too aggressive at hearing him call her fuckable. I can call her fuckable. He can’t. I own her now. She lied, fucked up, and now she’s mine. She’ll know it soon enough. So will everyone else in my world.

  “I mean, uh, yeah there was a woman matching that—um—description,” Slip pauses to clear his throat then goes on. “Came to see me about two or three weeks ago and said my buddy Hack sent her my way. Computer guy.”

  “She buy any other fake documents? Passport? Birth certificate?”

  “Nope. Just the driver’s license.”

  “If she comes back to you for anything, you let me know immediately.”

  “You got it. Absolutely,” he says eagerly.

  “Thanks,” I say insincerely then hang up before he can respond.

  Slip for a fake ID. A computer guy for who knows what. What the fuck is this woman doing?

  Familiar anger claws at my throat, tangling with desire to claim that woman’s body for my own. It’s an intoxicating cocktail of feelings. She has nerve trying to sneak her way around my crew. Breathtaking beauty or not, if she’s a goddamn cop, I’ll make her disappear. People go missing all the time. That’s the primary hazard when fucking with High Knoll. My crew is my family and I do what I must to keep them alive and well and earning money. I don’t relish the idea of disposing of Abigail Tally, God knows I’ve got bigger shit on my plate right now, but I also don’t like the idea of going to prison either.

  There are only two possible reasons for a person to gather enough balls to even attempt to snake their way around the crew: business or personal. If it’s business as usual that has sent Abigail into the shadows, then there’s no question about it. She must be a cop. Then again, cops have their own false documents and they look as real as they come. A cop wouldn’t use Slip. Would they? It could be personal though. If it’s personal, well, it could be anything. She could be sent by the Asians, the Russians, or the goddamn Italians. She could be here because someone fucked something up for her and she’s seeking revenge. Either way, she has no idea who she’s screwing with. A threat is a threat. Even when it’s in the form of a beauty such as her. Especially when it’s in the form a beauty such as her.

  I can hear Murph talking to someone out in the hall and I clear my throat to holler for him. “Murph!”

  He strides in and settles himself in the chair in front of my desk. “Need you to give Tiny Abigail Tally’s description and make sure she is shown in the minute she gets to the door tonight. Also, need you to contact Teeny and tell him we need a favor.” I smile at my choice of words. I don’t ask for favors. I take what I need and want and that’s the end of it. Even if I didn’t, it doesn’t matter much because Teeny placed himself under my thumb a few years ago and that’s where he has stayed. Stupid fucker. He’s my favorite reluctant associate.

  “I’ll have a package for you to get to him. I need him to lift and run and I need the info right away.” Murph quirks his brows.

  “To do with the redhead I assume?”

  “Yeah. She smells like trouble. I’m going to find out why.”

  Murph nods and gets to his feet. He isn’t a man of many words but he’s a damn good friend and leader which is all the more reason to make sure that Abigail isn’t a cop who intends on sending me and my guys to an all male getaway with bad views and shitty room service.

  I make a few more phone calls delegating duties then close up shop for now. I need to take a drive and try to figure out just what the hell I’m going to do with Abigail Tally because she damn sure isn’t showing that tight body of hers to anyone in my club. Well, anyone other than me.

  I grin as I head out the door and make my way to my car. It occurs to me that the perfect solution is staring me right in the face. She wants a job. I’ll give her a special one. It’s self-serving as hell but why should I give a shit? She’s a liar and clearly has an agenda.

  Well, so do I, Abigail Tally. So do I.

  Chapter Eight

  Ena

  I should have more slutty clothes. I flick through the hangers in my closet again realizing that my options are severely limited. I pull my phone from my back pocket and check the time. I could run out and find something that fits the bill for an aspiring stripper. I brought various stage outfits in the event that I managed to land a spot on Eden’s lineup of dancers but I didn’t consider that I would need to wear more than a thong and something less than skinny jeans on my first trip to the club. A dress—a short one. A tight one.

  “Dammit,” I huff as I slip on some flats and grab my bag.

  I feel guilty as I swipe my credit card, successfully charging two-hundred ninety dollars worth of slutty attire to the card that I’ve always reserved for emergencies only. And it only got me two dresses and one pair of green heels. It doesn’t matter though. Only one thing does matter and that’s finding Lan.

  This is a means to an end. I’m closer. Gotta find Lan.

  As I head to my car, I take a deep breath, contemplating the call I’m considering making. I never wanted to put anyone else in danger by dragging them into my plan but I have no more information about Lan than what I started with.

  “Ena,” Hack greets me.

  “Hey, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot,” he says around what sounds like a mouth full of food.

  “You know my sister is missing, right?”

  “What?” he chokes on whatever he was eating.

  “Hack that’s
why I—uh—came to you for help with my computer. I’ve been trying to find her.”

  “Okay…” he draws the word out.

  “Is there anyway you can hack into private servers and computers, phones and all that other stuff.” Hack scoffs like I’ve offended him again.

  “They don’t call me Hack for no reason, Ena. Who are we checking out?”

  “Carrick Ferguson. The Beast of Boston. The boxer. He owns Eden, the strip cl—”

  “Ena,” Hack cuts me off and lowers his voice. “I need you to listen carefully and trust me. When I tell you that you cannot fuck with them you really can’t—shouldn’t. I won’t. You shouldn’t either.”

  “What?” I can hardly believe Hack is refusing to help me.

  “Ena, I’m dead serious,” a strangled squeak comes over the line then he goes on. “I just might be dead and you too if you pursue this. I don’t know what your sister got involved with but if she’s with High Knoll in any capacity… she’s gone. Maybe even dead.”

  “I don’t fucking accept that!” I snap then sigh trying to gather myself. Yelling at him isn’t going to get me anywhere. “Look, I don’t know that she’s with them at all. I was just thinking if we could access his private contacts, emails and such I’d be on the right path. All I know is that I’m pretty sure she was trying to get a job at Eden and next thing—”

  “No, no, no. I don’t want to know anything. Nothing. I can’t help you with this one, Ena.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  Hack sighs and I can practically hear him scrubbing his face.

  “Are you telling me you can’t get into Carrick Ferguson’s private computer or cell phone? Are you really going to sit back and allow a young woman with her whole life ahead of her disappear into thin air when you’re maybe one of the only people in the world with the skills to help in a meaningful way?”