“Dad, are you listening?” I look up at Max. “We’re going to go. I need to get back to work before Seal comes looking for me.”
“Take your sister home first. I don’t want her hanging around the clubhouse all afternoon. I am going to ride out to Tanker’s house.” Yeah, I need him to find out who is going to answer to me for keeping part of my family away from me. I know I told the kids not to get their hopes up, but I already feel that it’s true. I just need proof.
“I love you Dad,” Lexi tells me and I get up from my chair and walk around my desk and we meet. I give her a hug and kiss the top of her head. Max is standing close; I reach over and pull him over to us for a family hug. Damn, I’m getting soft.
“Love you both, now get out of my hair so I can sort this out.” Max looks at me.
“I will help if you need me. If we have another brother and sister out there, we all want to get to know them. Well, maybe not Liam, at least right now, he’s still bitching about Dixie and Trace, but he’ll come around. He just needs to get away from Mom for a little bit to get his footing and find his way.” Max takes his role as the oldest child seriously.
“I know son. When we find out who they are and get a definite answer on the paternity and where they’re located you will be riding with me to meet them.” Max shakes his head and he knows I am serious. “You two get out of here so I can get the answers we need.”
Chapter Five
Grinder
9 months later
It has taken us nine months to get the answers I needed. Today Max, Seal, Tanker, and I ride out to Quitman, Texas to find my other two children, twins. I have been up since six this morning and walking the floors. I have been going over the papers on the woman that gave birth to Ryder Jameson and Whiskey Rose Taylor. The pictures that Tanker came up with were useless. The woman didn’t look familiar in any of the pictures, but her background material stirred up a memory of a one-night stand, but the timeline didn’t work. Tanker did some more digging and found out that someone lied about their ages on the genealogy records. They weren’t eighteen yet when they filled them out. The age requirement on the records is eighteen or with a parent’s authorization so this told me two things—the first is they knew their mother would not give them permission to try and find any family members and the second is they want to find family members. That made the decision easier for me to go and track them down. The thing is they are less than two hundred miles away. The mother, Jenna Taylor relocated to Texas three years after the death of her husband and stillborn child.
That story is what triggered my memory but the woman I remembered had deep red hair. I called her Red and she called me Whiskey or Whiskey Rider. It was a drunken night between me and a lonely woman that was dying to let her wild side out and live again. That night I had my doubts of Red being able to lose herself in our passion and let go but let go she did. All the details are still not clear and Tanker’s digging has come up with one dead end after another. It’s been too long ago. The only way to get the answers is to have a face-to-face with Jenna Taylor. We found the small cattle ranch that she owns in Quitman and in a little over two hours we will be knocking on her door. I hope she is ready to find out why my name is Grinder.
I hear the bikes roar before they are ever in my yard. I look out my window and my brothers are here to have my back when I make this trip. I watch Max get off his bike. He got his patch two months ago, so he’s not only my oldest son now, but my brother and I am proud to have him riding with me. Seal is our enforcer; he’s the same age as I was when I had that position in the club, but he also owns a construction company. Right now, he only has two crews, but it’s more than I had when I was his age. He’s tall and broad and has women falling at his feet and the men fear him. Tanker is our tech brother and a loner. He does his thing at his place but if we need him, he’s the first to be there. I trust every one of these men and I have no doubt they will keep my secrets if the need should arise. They each have skills we may need on this ride. I don’t wait for anyone to knock on the door. My bike is packed and ready to go.
“You ready for this?” Max asks me.
“Ready or not, let’s ride.” I mount my bike, start her up and lead the way back to the main highway. Red, you better be ready to answer questions, Whiskey Rider is on his way.
The end for now.
Sweet Whiskey Dreams will be out early summer 2019.
About Vera
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https://authorveraquinn.weebly.com
Birthright
A DelBene Crime Family Novella
By Shelly Morgan
Gemma
I laugh as Jeremy leads me into the back room of the library at our school. A year ago, I never would have even dreamed of doing something like this. My mother would probably faint because that’s not the way she taught me to act. I've been groomed my whole life to act with dignity and poise. "Devi comportarti come una signora," she drilled into me.
And mio padre…well, my father is Lorenzo DelBene, the Mafia Crime Lord here In Chicago. But he's much more than that, too. He's Mafia royalty within the U.S. and even parts of Italy. So if he knew what I was doing, he would most likely kill Jeremy, his whole family, and most likely burn down the school with everyone inside of it. Plus, It would ruin any chance he had of marrying me off to a suitor that he approved of. One that would be in the best interest of our familia.
Jeremy, kissing down my neck, brings me back to the here and now. Damn, this boy is hot and has a way with his mouth.
His hands make quick work of unbuttoning my pants before he reaches around with his left hand to cup my bare ass, while his right hand dives in from the front, his fingers manipulating my clit in all the right ways. Fuck, his mouth and his fingers are magic. I can’t wait to see how his cock feels inside of me.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans against my collarbone. “You’re so fuckin’ wet for me.”
Jeremy is new to this school, having just transferred here from New York. His padre is a politician or something. But from the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew this is where we would end up. When I see something I want, I get it, one way or another.
“I can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy,” Jeremy groans in my ear now, which has me rolling my eyes. I love dirty talk as much as the next girl, but I’m on a time crunch here. The final bell just rang, and I know Giovanni is waiting for me outside by my car. I sent him a text that I had to stop at the library for some books, but that will only keep him waiting for a short amount of time.
Pushing Jeremy back a little, I smile seductively. “Then bend me over and show me what you’ve got.”
That does the trick. Jeremy pushes his jeans down over his hips, just enough to reveal his cock. I lick my lips, upset that I can’t play a little with him before it’s over, but that will have to wait for another time. Sucking cock is one of my favorite things to do, aside from getting my pussy licked and fucked, of course.
Just as he presses down on my back to bend me over, I get this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. My heart starts to beat rapidly, but not from the pleasure or anticipation of what is happening between me and Jeremy. I feel as if I can’t breathe; as if all the air is being knocked out of my lungs.
Gino. Something is seriously wrong.
“Stop,” I say, standing up straight while I rearrange my shirt and button my pants. “I have to go.”
I take a step to move past him when he grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop and turning me around to face him. “Hold the fuck on,” Jeremy starts to argue, but I don’t have the time to deal with him or try to explain. I have to go. Now.
Without skipping a beat, I rely on the special training I’ve been getting from mio padre's top guards, Giovanni and Luca, for the past six years. I may be a girl, but I’m the daughter of a mafia boss and sister to the next in line. Taking care of myself and handling anything that comes my way is a must. Bringing my arm up, I punch him in the face, causing him to release me
and stumble back into the wall. Was it completely called for? No, probably not. But I don’t have time to try and explain. Mio fratello is in trouble.
I hear Jeremy yell, but I pay him no mind. This will probably cause problems later on, but I’ll think about that and how I’m going to fix it later.
I sprint out of the library, down the hall of my private school, and out the doors leading into the parking lot.
Giovanni is waiting for me in his car, which is parked just beside mine. Why mio padre insists on sending a driver when I drive myself is beyond me, yet I don’t argue with him since he lets me take my own car to school.
He looks at me with concern, but when he gets out of his car and makes his way toward me, I slam my door, start the engine, and peel out of there. I don’t know what’s going on. I only know that I need to get home.
I momentarily think that maybe I should have let Giovanni know what’s going on, but it’s too late for that now.
Weaving my way through the heavy traffic, I faintly hear my phone buzz in my purse next to me. I don’t bother to reach for it because my mind is too busy paying attention to the cars in front of me and trying to get my head around what could be wrong.
Screeching to a stop in our massive front driveway, I get as close to the door as possible. Without turning the ignition off, I fling the car door open and jump out, running as fast as I can through the front door. A voice in my head yells at me to be cautious because I have no idea what I’m walking in to, yet I pay it no mind. I’m too focused on finding my brother.
“Gino!” I yell as I pause in our foyer. I sprint down the hallway and find a motionless form lying on the floor in the kitchen.
Taking a few steps toward it, I fall to my knees and turn the person over. My breath gets caught in my throat and tears spill down my face at the sight of mia madre. Her face is white with blood splatters dotting her cheek. Someone slit her throat.
Unable to look at the fatal wound, I look into her lifeless eyes. They don’t even look like hers. None of the warmth I felt when I looked at her is there. Instead, I just feel cold, like a part of me died with her.
I place a kiss to her forehead before standing up and making my way to my brother’s office door that is slightly ajar. It’s quiet inside and I know, deep down, mio fratello is gone, just like mia madre.
Pausing for only a second, I take a deep breath to get a hold of myself before I reach out to push the door open the rest of the way. I hear the front door of the house slam closed and Giovanni yelling my name as he runs inside, but I can’t answer him. My words are taken from me as I look at my twin brother lying on his side in a pool of blood, a knife sticking out of his chest.
I drop down beside him, my tears now dried on my face as I beg and plead to him, "Per favore, Gino. Per favore non lasciarmi." He can't leave me!
I reach out and check for a pulse. I find one. It’s weak, but it’s there. Maybe I won’t lose him after all.
“Gio!” I cry out, needing his help. We need to get him to the hospital fast.
I reach out to roll him onto his back as I hear Giovanni come in behind me.
“Fuck!” he yells, rushing to my side.
“We need to get him to the doctor,” I say as I work to move him gently onto his back. But when I do, Gino’s eyes snap open and he reaches up to grab my hand. It scares the shit out of me, causing me to gasp, but when I look at his face, my breath gets lodged in my chest. In his eyes I see pain, but I also see betrayal. The look sears me to my core.
The look starts to vanish as he struggles to breathe. But right before he takes his last breath and his eyes close forever, he whispers one word. A plea. A demand. A name. “Stefano.”
***
Five Days Later
I sit in the den upstairs, going over everything I’ve been able to compile over the last few days about mia madre and twin fratello's murder. Three of the guards that were here keeping watch over the house were killed; the fourth man is missing. That means he must have had something to do with what happened. There’s no other explanation for his absence. I mean, if he’s innocent, he would have been killed or at least injured, right?
Then there’s the last thing my brother said to me—Stefano. Why would he name our uncle? Is it possible he’s the person who killed them? Or was it a warning that he might be next?
Giovanni steps into the room and stands behind the chair across from me. He was there with me when my brother took his last breath. He’s never been a fan of mio zio, though I’m not sure why. So when I asked him to help me figure out what Gino meant, and not bring it to mio padre until we knew for sure, he was all in.
"Hai travato Marco Ancora?" I ask, knowing that when we find the last guard, we’ll know the truth of what happened.
He sits down in the chair and places a folder I didn’t notice before on the table in front of us. “Si, Principessa. I dug into his personal file and tracked down some familia he has in New York. He has a cousin that lives in a secluded area close to Niagara Falls.”
I nod, but I need to be sure this is the right lead to go on. “How do you know he’d go there? Just because he has familia there doesn’t mean that’s where he’d hide.”
“Si. And since Marco has gone dark and not used any of his credit cards, I had someone look into his cousin’s card activity. There was a large transfer from an offshore account a week before the murders. And then, two days later, he purchased a plane ticket leaving from O’Hare flying into New York City, along with a rental car from there. It’s not ironclad, but I think we got him,” Giovanni states.
Nodding, I go through the statements in the folder, seeing in ink everything he’s said. “Has mio padre gotten any leads?”
He’s quiet for a moment, probably deciding on if he should tell me what he knows. I’ve never been privy to the inner workings of mia familia's empire, but times have changed.
“There is a rumor that the Russians are responsible,” he finally tells me.
“Si? Is there anything to support that rumor?” I ask, now wondering if we’re chasing smoke.
Giovanni’s face forms a sneer and he shakes his head. “No. Only evidence tuo zio bastardo has brought to attention. But I’ve seen some of the trails he’s been wanting us to sniff out. It’s all shit if you ask me.”
If mio zio Stefano is indeed responsible for mia madre and fratello's deaths, it makes sense that he would try to steer things away from him. And if the rumors about the feud with the Russians is anything to go by, going after them would cause mass chaos, enough to cover up anything he would have done.
“Then we go to New York, find and question Marco, and get the truth,” I say, standing up and throwing the folder onto the table.
“Noi, Principessina?” Giovanni asks. I know he’s trying to protect me and doesn’t want me close to any danger, but there’s nothing he can do to keep me here.
"Vengo con te," I tell him. I need to be there when Marco is questioned. I need to hear it with my own ears about what happened that day.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, and your padre will never allow it, Principessa. Not after everything that’s happened.” Giovanni is probably right. That just means I need to come up with a reason for me going he can’t refuse.
“I’ll handle mio padre. You just get everything set up. We leave tonight.” With that, Giovanni concedes as he stands, before leaving the room. I know he’s not happy about me tagging along, but it’s not his decision to make. It’s mine.
Now, to handle mio padre.
Making my way downstairs, I come up with a story to explain my absence. I feel bad lying to him about what’s going on, but until I know for sure what happened, this is how it needs to be.
Stopping in front of mio padre's office door, I hear two men talking. I know I should knock to announce my presence, or leave and come back later, but something inside my head tells me to stay and listen. And that’s when I hear it. Mio zio's voice, telling my father that all hope is not lost.
That even though Gino is gone, there is still someone who can take his place as the next Crime Lord. Him.
My blood boils, and a hatred I never thought possible, takes over my body. How can he talk about replacing mio fratello like he was nothing? And then it hits me; he was behind his murder. He wanted the power to rule our empire and needed to get rid of Gino in order to do it. Sul mio cadavere. I'll die before I let that happen.
Pushing the door open, I stand just inside his office with my arms crossed.
“Gemma,” mio padre yells as Stefano stares at me with contempt. He can just fuck right the hell off, though.
Looking back at mio padre, I tell him, “I overheard your discussion and I have a solution.”
I know he isn’t pleased that I was listening to their conversation, and the fact that it had to do with mafia business makes it worse. But he’ll have to get used to it. I’m a part of this familia. This empire is just as much mine as it is his. It’s time he sees that.
He shakes his head, preparing to say something that I probably won’t like, but I don’t let him.
“Padre, per favore. Just hear me out,” I tell him, begging him with my eyes. This is mio padre, and I love him more than anything. I know he wants what’s best for me, but I’m hoping my innocent look will make him bend to my will.
Padre blows out a breath and leans back in his chair, giving me what I want. I can see mio zio out of the corner of my eye, not looking happy. Yet, for now, he remains silent.
I make my way into the room so I’m standing right in front of mio padre's desk. I can still see Stefano, but I don’t look at him directly. “With Gino gone, you’re trying to figure out who will now take over the familia business when you are ready to retire. Since you only had one son, Uncle Stefano says it should be him. But that right shouldn’t go to him. It should fall to me. I’m the next in line.”
Twisted Tales of Mayhem Page 43
