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“Not at all,” I assured him with an innocent smile. “What’s in the bottle?”
Virgil lifted the bottle high in the air and smiled. “Well, Emmett, I’m glad you asked. This is a brand new whiskey straight from ye olde Ireland. I had it made special for Maisie as a wedding present.”
Jasper groaned. “Fuck, man, who’s ever gonna be able to top that shit?”
Virgil grinned and shrugged his wide shoulders. “Not my problem. It’s not like you’re dating anyone anyway, and well, the fact that it took them twenty years to get together means we’ve got another decade before Terry and Kat tie the knot.”
“Thanks for that man,” Terry growled.
“Sorry, but it’s true. Now how’s about we crack this motherfucker open to test it out? It’s the first bottle of Velvet Fire, a limited edition.” Virgil tilted the sealed bottle back and forth, tempting us all.
“I’ll get glasses,” Jasper said and disappeared into his big ass gourmet kitchen that he never used but was so protective of it made me wonder if he was a secret chef or something. “Where’d you find this?”
“Remember that Irish dude who won half a million off that Saudi Prince at the Shootout Tournament? Tall ginger with tons of freckles?”
Jasper nodded. “How the hell could I forget? That win almost turned into an international fucking incident.” He laughed and shook his head at the memory of one of the biggest underground card games we’d had in a long time. The buy-in was too rich for my blood, but just watching was a damn good time.
“Well he loves to gamble and gets off on high stakes.”
“Don’t tell me you played against him, Virg.”
“Of course not. I don’t have a death wish. But E-o-g-h-a-n, pronounced Owen for some damn reason, needed to top up, and he didn’t have the cash. I fronted him so he wouldn’t leave the premises. He gave me the deed to the Feckin Mule Distillery in merry old Ireland as a promise to pay. Lost his ass and now I own a distillery. Well, Maisie and I own a distillery, that’s the other part of the gift.”
Virgil flashed a proud smile. “Wait until you taste it.”
Jasper set five glasses down and groaned. “Shit, I forgot Cal didn’t show tonight.”
That seemed to be happening a lot lately. I was curious as hell about it because the Ashbys were the tightest group I knew. “What happened to him?”
Terry barked out a laugh. “It’s hard to sit when your woman has your balls in her purse.” My brother laughed and laughed at his joke, so I turned to Jasper for confirmation since Terry had a warped sense of humor.
“Pretty much,” Jasper confirmed. “Ma can deal with that shit. I want to taste this Velvet Fire,” he said in a high-pitched feminine voice.
He poured four generous glasses and waited impatiently for each of us to taste it.
I took a sip and the whiskey slid down my throat like silk with a hint of a burn, but in a good way. “Damn, that is smooth,” I told him honestly.
“It’s damn good,” Jasper said admiringly. “It’s good enough that I want you to consider producing it for worldwide distribution under the Ashby name.”
Virgil blinked in shock, and Terry held the glass frozen about five inches from his mouth. “Is this my wedding gift?”
“You wish.” Jasper laughed and took another sip. “It’s a business opportunity. A way to make some money before you and Maisie start popping out babies. On the books.”
“If you’re serious, I’ll see what the capacity is for the distillery.”
Jasper nodded. “Let me know and I’ll—” The phone rang on the poker table and instantly he was in business mode once again. “Yeah?”
We all stood around, enjoying the new whiskey while Jasper, used to frequent interruptions, dealt with business.
It was a minute or two before I realized he wasn’t talking, just staring at his phone. Something on the screen had his full attention. Then the color drained from his face. He knocked back his drink and began to pace.
“No, No! Oh, fucking Christ, no.”
It came out as a wail, a cry. A sound I’d never heard from Jasper. We gathered around to see what had him so distraught. I reached him first but I couldn’t make out what was on his phone. Someone had sent him a video, but it was dark and grainy at first. Some guys giving some poor sucker a pounding.
“Who is it, Jas?” Terry asked from behind me. “One of our guys? Did you send a crew to teach somebody a lesson?”
The sound of a beating came across pretty strong as blow after blow crunch bones and mashed tissue into unrecognizable meat. The beating made my stomach turn, but I couldn’t look away. This was somebody’s apartment. Blood spurted on the walls, the couch, the pictures on the wall.
