Rampage (Ruthless Tendencies Series Book 4)

by D. M. Burns

  I’m not even sure how the hell they managed to hang all that shit since this morning much less from that high elevation. The other part that I’m slightly baffled about is why I feel pride swelling up inside my chest for Lena’s abilities and raw talent. How can someone so evil create such glamourous splendor? That mushy sensation is confusing as fuck much like these god damn feelings.

  I was successful in avoiding Len’s existence here for on-going months with out of town business filling my timeslots. When I wasn’t entertaining out in New York, I made it a point to be at Club Chaos. Plus, Len wasn’t my fulltime employee and she reported directly to Brogan. Hell, my evasive techniques were working too. Now everything has changed thanks to my business partner from hell.

  When she face-planted in my chest on her first day giving me a burst of that familiar floral sweetness that is her signature scent, I snapped. Other than our recent up-close interactions and the office fuckery from a few weeks back; I’ve had years of denied access to that fragrance. Something I had no idea that I missed until I boarded Brogan’s jet.

  Losing my mental stability and hemming Lena up in the blackout room had not one fucking thing to do with any secrecy surrounding my one-on-one with Mr. Lawson. It was Lena, period. Well, add in the fact that her power suit was apparently stitched by Satan himself with 100% seduction scrolled on the tag. The threaded design of which was manufactured for the sole purpose of producing a ballbusting death to my nut sack. Bottom line, it was…

  Her presences.

  Her body.

  Her smell.

  Her voice.

  Her… Just HER.

  Frankly, I’m still feeling a certain type of way from getting whacked in the back of the damn head with a set of designs. Yeah, I might’ve deserved it but damn. Len has a mean ass follow through. Believe me when I tell you that I have firsthand knowledge. But my payback came in the form of the hours she spent adjusting all those damn paintings outside my office.

  Before that, I tried entertaining her presentation. Really. Fucking. Hard. I attempted to reign it in. My growing manhood member behind my business boy pants was making his wants known. He wanted to engage in dirty sex, not designs.

  As I sat uncomfortably across the marble divider, I tried to pay attention as she spilled over the planned projects, she drafted especially for me. Then she stood up, seemingly pointing at shit on the designs and bending over unknowingly teasing me with those tan tits trying to peek out of her top at me.

  Len was strategically emphasizing bullshit that I was no longer interested in because her flawless fuckable body was on display. Lounging all over the marble tabletop instead of my granite guy located on the southside near my groin area. My control over the situation was on a count down.

  Right before I tossed her ass out of my office slamming the door on her exit, I advised her that it all looked great as long as no yellow paint hit my walls, it was a go. She seemed satisfied with my answer and I was set on satisfying myself using the stroking motion of my hand. Then she just had to ask because curiosity compels her to.

  “Just wondering, why no yellow?” She asked.

  “Simple, it reminds me of a little strawberry blonde that I hate.” I smiled wide as her face fell. She nodded her head and turn on her heel. She had no witty comeback, nothing. I’m a business bastard of the worst kind, period.

  The words were tossed out there between us before I had time to think better of it. It was only the truth though. Every time I see yellow, I’m thrown back in time to our school years. To that day I busted out of those school doors and found her sitting on that cement wall, legs dangling, dressed out in that beautiful yellow tank top and ponytail ribbon to match.

  It was a shit thing to say but I couldn’t take it back. Even if my bullshit words were in fact true, the look on her face at that moment made me want to murder. What was I going to do, turn a gun on myself? I was the only asshole to blame, me. See this is why I didn’t want her here. This shit is messing with my fucking mind. Fuck you Brogan Creed.

  After that shit show, truthfully, I was a little apprehensive in my hasty actions for her departure. The simple fact of the matter is that I have no damn clue what she presented me with or her plans for Aces Down, zero. But seeing this show of grandeur genius in front of me, I’m not worried about it in the least. Whatever Lena comes up with will be nothing short of extravagant.

  That bullshit with Trace Archer is crunched into my calculated frame of mind though. He fucked up my numeric assessment for a profitable pleasing day. That bastard had me wanting to conjure up an evil awakening of diabolical deeds when I conveniently froze out his attempt at a conversational opening with Len.

  Archer is not a bad guy but he’s also not a good guy either. I’m in the process of fielding and funneling through information on the man. So, I’m still on the fence about that asshole. He’s a large supporter of Club Chaos and one of the newest Royal Diamond Club members.

  The only reason I approved his membership was because of his affiliation with the underground. He supposedly runs the narcotics ring. That information alone sets the tone for my distaste with him being anywhere near Len. There’s just something about the guy that doesn’t sit right with me other than the obvious drug lord title and responsibilities.

  Fortunately for me, the success of Aces Down or Club Chaos doesn’t depend on Archer’s support. The cash count that this club alone profits from provides enough revenue that my no fucks given mindset can fly high where his membership is concerned. I’m finding that’s my go-to attitude when it comes to Lena.

  You see, I’m not like my brothers or cousin. Had it been one of them, that bastard’s blood would’ve been splattered across the hallway walls. Their women make them unsteady and at times, sloppy even. Something I can’t afford to be, ever. I’m deliberately sensible and stable with a sinister silent side for handling any setbacks that come my way, permanently.

  Anger and aggravation were sparring it out deep inside my soul though. I’ll accredit those sentimental fucks to my cock crush for Len that’s been going strong ever since I was a kid. Apparently, it’s still alive and well, cruising at an unhealthy speed with zero shits for a seatbelt restraint. The crash dummy of dick’s, that’s him.

  My mind was fighting the urge to separate Trace’s arm from his body for placing his grimy hands on hers. That strategically sent me into a hellfire panic on the inside. It’s that kind of unstable mindset that’ll throw you off your game in the underground world.

  All this shit I’m babbling on about lika bitch is exactly why I warned Brogan to steer clear of my history with that woman. Hell, Lena’s not even my friend anymore let alone my lady. I don’t do relationships of any kind.

  A key component to surviving in this gambling graveyard of debts is to stay sharp. There are many levels to the underground, busted up into slimy sections. My part is holding the black book of deeds and debts. A fixer of financial fuckery. I’m responsible for performing black magic with a pen and scripting out the terms of your future payments. Whether or not it is done by currency or in blood, is totally dependent upon your willingness to cooperate.

  Tonight, I’m accommodating what we call the Royal Diamond Club members. This is our safe cover where the underground's management of bosses and capos from each organization come together, mingle, and discuss business. The guest list of criminals is the sole reason why my staff is not allowed to join. It’s dangerous for insiders let alone outsiders.

  Considering that Aces Down profits greatly from their warlord power pow-wow’s, I’m ever the gracious host. There’s no denying that these guys are a brutal bunch. But even they know the ramifications of disrespecting the underground's playhouse would be dire.

  Just like in the movie John Wick, Aces Down is considered to be sacred ground. A more vibrant and livelier Continental Hotel so to speak and I’m it’s avuncular owner, Winston.

  Running my hand over my black tux coat, I stroke the breast pocket of my fine imported Ital
ian material. When my watch catches my eye, I check out the time and see that our grueling guests should be arriving soon.

  “Yo, Ramp. What’s up brother?”

  That familiar voice is one I wasn’t anticipating to show face here tonight. I turn to see my baby brother decked out in a suit that I’d be jealous of if I weren’t me. What can I say? I’m the Black Knight of style.

  “Damn Rebel, what the hell are you doing here?” I ask.

  It’s a fair question. This asshole’s existence can normally be found between the legs of his wife. Not that I blame him. Alex is drop dead fucking gorgeous. Seriously, I walked in on them at his restaurant last week fucking on his desk and I took my time on the exit out letting my eyes wander.

  Rebel hurried my progress by hurling his desk phone at my forehead. That prolonged glimpse of her was worth the possibility of some more facial stitches. I know that sounds wrong because she’s my sister-in-law but like I said, she’s sexy.

  “The free booze, asshole.” He quirks his eyebrows at me.

  Nah, he’s not here for that. This asshole is fishing for a shark in murky water. I know him. He can swim in my ocean but I’m going to need more information than that. I’ll round back to this later.

  “How’s Alex doing?” I ask in a long-drawn-out heat filled voice while wiggling my eyebrows suggestively ending it with a smirk. His face turns hauntingly cold and for a moment I’m rethinking my asshole horny ways.

  “You motherfucker.” He growls while pointing his finger at me. “You look at my wife like that again, and I’ll hack your profits here, drain the well dry then cut your balls off, and ship those shriveled fuckers to unknown parts of the world. The title brother be damned.”

  “Shit, Reb… I’m only joking, kinda.” I can’t help it. He’s easy to fuck with. “That was descriptive and scarily enough it sounded a lot like it was methodically planned out. You got a demented mind, little brother.” I smirk.

  “This coming from the asshole whose eyes were locked to my wife’s tits last week.” He rubs his hand over his five o’clock shadow while chuckling.

  “In all fairness, you were fucking on the desk which happens to be in the middle of your office. Lock your damn door next time. What is with you and Renegade not locking your office doors when banging your ladies. I don’t understand.” I say on a shrug. “Now, seriously. What are you doing here?”

  “Alex is at her book club she started with her college students tonight and I was bored.” He shrugs. “Figured I’d come to your swank ass party. See the inner workings of the dirty-dirty in all its splendor. This place is decked out. Shit, I wasn’t expecting all this.” He holds his hands out motioning to the setup.

  “Yeah, it’s badass but I can’t take credit for it. This was all Lena.” I nod my head and scan the place again.

  “She’s good, Ramp.” He chuckles. “You’re so fucked.” My eyes snap back to him.

  “Don’t start that shit, Rebel. She’s on payroll now. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t dip my dick in the company coins that turn it a profit, ever.” I shake my head back and forth. It’s a true statement. I never sleep around with personnel.

  “Then you better fire her ass because we both know you want to. Always have.” He snickers.

  “Can’t do that. Brogan hired her fulltime and she moved back here several months ago. So, sending her off to the unemployment line is not high on my priority list.”

  “Shit, with her skill level and flawless fuckable looks…” He smiles at me deviously, but I reframe from punching him in the face. Keeping my unaffected composure in check barely. “That woman won’t go without a job long. To be quite honest I can’t for the life of me piece together why she’d move back here to work with you anyway. You were a serious dick to her. But have you ever thought about slowing your playboy roll and look for more than just a nightly nut?” He asks. When did Rebel become a fucking relationship guru?

  “Nope. But thanks for the Dr. Feel-good recommendation and observation, asshole. Plus, ask any of my employees. They’ll tell you I’m a role model boss.” I toss that verbal snap back at him. I’m not in the mood for this shit tonight.

  “Don’t be a dick. I’m just saying that I know you’ve always had a thing for her, man. Hell, if it's mutual then I don’t see the problem.” Rebel says.

  “Listen, I enjoy a lot of sex and work takes up the remainder of my time. A relationship requires commitment and monogamy. I’m tapped out on that commitment front with work and I like a variety of bitches. That shit fucks with the mind anyway.” I turn to him and motion my head to the dedicated bar area then move my ass. I’m going to need something strong for the long night ahead of me. “Anyway, money is like pussy to me. It’s there for the taking, offered in abundance, and something I have no problem obtaining, ever. Plus, they both bring me a great deal of pleasure.”

  “Whatever, you financial fashion whore.” He chuckles. “What happened between you two anyway? Until ya know… She literally scarred your ass and popped your stitch cherry. I never got the full story.” His laughter carries over my shoulder and I roll my eyes. He only knows what he saw with his fuck-sockets. He doesn’t know the whole story, no one does.

  “If I remember correctly, I woke up with your crazy ass trying to remove said stitches.” I really wished he’d drop this shit.

  “I saved mom and dad an unnecessary medical bill. Hell, I’m good with a pair of scissors, and besides, I knew what I was doing.” He says. My little brother is mental madness overflowing.

  “Reb, didn’t you say that you came for the free booze?” I lean into the bar, prop my arm over the polished top, and turn to my bartender. “Grace, can I please get a scotch on the rocks?” I ask. She nods and looks to Rebel.

  “And you sir?” She asks.

  “Same.” Rebel says then looks back to me.

  “Yeah, the expensive booze.” He says.

  “Then remove your nose from my ass, yeah?” I say.

  “Whatever, fucker.” He says with a chuckle. “So much for brotherly bonding with you.” I laugh out loud at that as Grace sets our drinks in front of us and then moves back down the bar.

  “Let’s cut the shit. Who are you after, Reb?” Maybe I can help him make his exit out of the lion’s den before it gets too crowded. “I know you. Someone has landed on your radar. Who is it?” I ask.

  “Seriously, it’s nothing like that or you’d never know shit about it let alone see my face. It has nothing to do with the twisted fucks attending this party. Hell, the FBI already knows all the details on each of these bastards anyway. Except for the faceless Krugger.” His laugh holds no humor and it’s a telling trait.

  “You know this crowd just like I do.” I point out into the space using my glass holding hand then continue, “Their ruthless by nature but also a part of my job description, tread lightly. Don’t fuck around in Aces Down.” I toss my drink back and let the savory flavor burn the back of my throat.

  It’s a warning because if my brother gets into any shit with these merciless motherfuckers my loyalty rolls with him, we’re blood. Not that I’m too much worried about it but I’d rather my night not end with bagging and tagging anything other than a nice piece of ass.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just here for the booze, remember?” He winks at me.

  “Lying little fucker.” I mumble.

  “I’m bigger than you and Ren put together, asshole. It’d do you some good to remember that.” He says.

  “You’ll always be my little brother no matter what,” I say.

  When I look out over the room, I see the bodies filing in and things are starting to get crowded. A couple of familiar, high-ranking faces wave me over and I look back at Reb.

  “You good?” I push off the bar and adjust the sleeves of my unruffled coat. “Time for me to mingle.”

  “For fuck sakes, do I strike you as someone that needs a god damn babysitter, brother? Go do your thing.” He chuckles.

  “Alright, I’l
l catch up with you later, yeah?” I mumble as I trail off.

  That little fucker is up to something but damn well capable of handling himself. Those are facts. His mind is a haunted playground and I feel sorry for the asshole he’s interested in.

  This place as well as the drinks have been going strong for a few hours now and I’m tempted to excuse myself. My buzzed frame of mind will only allow this shitshow a few more hours then I’m out. Rebel left peacefully about an hour ago and my presence is no longer needed. I’ve done my civil duties for the night. These festivities typically run well into the wee hours of the morning. It’s something that I won’t be around to see.

  “Mr. Carter, this is one helluva party.” I turn around and come face to face with none other than Lucas Merinettie. “Aces is on point this year. Looks damn good, congrats.”

  Lucas is holding his hand out and I don’t hesitate the shake. This is the leader of the Chicago crime syndicate and one mean cut-throat motherfucker. He’s well respected by his soldiers and to them he’s God. The way he conducts business is much more ethical than any of the other warlords in the game. His criminal control is always on display, but the monster mentality is in check, somewhat. He’s about profitable business and much like me, professional or painful deliverance depends on the other involved.

  “Thanks. I’ll pass that compliment off to the responsible party.” I say.

  “Do that and pass me their contact information while you’re at it. I’ll send them my business as well.” He says. The likelihood of this asshole getting Len’s number from me is comical, but I nod and change the subject.

  “Do you know if Krugger will be attending tonight?” I ask.

  The New York crime boss has never been seen. My curiosity over who the guy behind that name and title continues to grow. I’m intrigued but every year passes by without his attendance. That faceless Don could be staged as a god damn waiter right now. Silently listening in on all the dirty secrets and hushed talked. No one here would be the wiser either. He’s a private man and in my opinion a fucking genius.