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“I’m listening.”
“Does the name Doyle Kelly mean anything to you?”
“Other than he’s a fucking thorn in my side?”
“Dracos is looking for safe shipping into the US. We were brokering a deal through Miami and the asshole got me here to discuss particulars. Today, I’m told he’s made a more lucrative deal with Kelly.”
“Kelly is a two-bit operation. I’m shutting him down but he’s slicker than fuck. Which means, it’s taking longer than I’d like. What is it your man is looking to transport?” he asks, sounding confused.
I hesitate. I’m not much for discussing this shit, even if it’s on a secured phone. I know Killian is just as cautious as me. Hell, probably more so because he has a prison record, taking the hit to protect his father and family. He’s one of the few men that doesn’t work for me that I would trust without question.
“Just the things I normally deal in. This guy has good quality. It’s not worth this bullshit, though.”
“Well, I only ask because there’s only two things Kelly traffics and it’s not good.”
“How not good?” I ask. I’m starting to think that the bad feeling I’ve had since being in Greece has more reason than one.
“Drugs and flesh.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Wish I was. Kelly is one of the biggest sex traffickers around. That’s why I’ve been working hard to shut the motherfucker down. I don’t want that in my territory or around it.”
“I need to investigate Dracos and see exactly what he’s wanting to move. If that son of a bitch thought he could lie to me…”
“I couldn’t say, but I have connections over there. I could do some digging.”
“Sounds good. If you need help containing Doyle Kelly, I’m more than willing to send it.”
“I think I got it, but you’ll be the first I call.”
“Sounds good.”
We hang up and I lay back into the seat. Shit is going to have to change. This isn’t happening again. Dracos Stratakis has just bought himself a world of trouble.
melina
I shouldn’t be here. I know better. Apparently, today is my day for pushing the boundaries. Hell, maybe I have a death wish. That’s usually what happens when someone dares to defy my father. I’m convinced that I’m only alive because I’m his daughter. That’s not going to save me very much longer. That means, what I’m doing here isextremelydangerous.
This entire floor is my father’s dedicated offices. Only him, his men, and the people he invites are allowed here. Of course, my brothers are allowed up here, but I’m well aware that in my father’s eyes, I’m lacking. I was beneath him the moment I was born a girl.
I push those thoughts away. I’m here for one reason. I know my father keeps what my brother Aden refers to as a slush fund in the bottom drawer of his desk. He’s in a meeting today with some people from America. If I can slip in and get the money, it will help me to run away. Leaving on my own without money isn’t an option and father doesn’t give me an allowance or let me work. I don’t even get to pick the clothes on my back. I have always been a prisoner. I’ve fought against it—even revolted a time or two. I quickly learned that I’m trapped. Eventually, you give up trying. Instead, I began planning for the day I would get married. I assumed that my father would ship me off to college and I would be allowed to spread my wings there. I was wrong—very wrong.
Instead, I was allowed to go to a private all-girl school, but I was monitored constantly. Desperation was beginning to kick in, way before I found out my father was basically selling me to Doyle Kelley. No, I knew I was going to have to do something way before then. After all, I’m twenty and I’m even doing college through virtual classes. I have no friends, no allies…nothing.
I tiptoe toward my father’s office, only to freeze when I see a line of security guards in my father’s conference room. Stupid me thought they would all be inside. Still, they’re all talking, and luckily, the office is several doors down from them. I press against the side of the wall and advance slowly. The one advantage I have learned from being me is quite simply my ability to fade into the woodwork and disappear. One should never underestimate the power of self-preservation.
My father’s office comes out at an angle in the hall. Which means it provides me with a little bit of cover from the hall itself. So, staying close to the wall is my friend. I’m almost home free when I hear a man growling. I stop, knowing I should be more worried about the fact that I’m in an area that I’m forbidden to be in—unless escorted by my father or one of my brothers. I can’t move. The voice is so powerful and full of anger. I’ve never heard anyone raise their voice around my father. That in and of itself is reason enough for me to pay attention.
“You came to me!” the voice growls out. I find myself biting my nails wondering if the next sound I hear will be gunfire. No one gets away talking to my father like that. I don’t know what the meeting is about. I have no clue as to who it is with either. All I know is that this week my father has been in meeting after meeting with some people from America. This must be someone who has never dealt with my father before, however. If he had, he would know to use more caution.
I wait for the sound of guns, or my father’s men carrying a man out in plastic—which has happened before. Instead, I hear this loud screeching noise like fingernails on a chalkboard. Then, the man’s voice booms out again.
“You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with, but you’re about to learn. I’m not the kind of man that can be led around by my dick. I don’t let my women and I sure as fuck won’t let you. You want to play fucking games and waste my time? You best prepare, old man. You best prepare.”
I stand completely still for a moment—in complete shock. I can’t remember anyone talking like that to my father, especially his business associates. I hear the doors to my father’s conference room burst open and I jump. I scramble to get in my father’s office and close the door—well, mostly. I leave a crack because I need to see the man who told my father off and managed to walk away still breathing.
As he comes into view, the breath lodges in my chest. He’s got a suit on, like everyone else that my father does business with. I hate them. When I look at my father in one of his suits, I just see something ugly trying to cover up its existence with expensive clothes.
