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Robert looks around, unbothered by the situation. His smarty-pants glasses don't conceal his narrowed pupils. I pick up the towel from the table and gently rub my knuckles.
“You didn’t answer your phone, and I was on the way here to help Hustler with the books,” Robert starts, and I grunt, not looking away from what I was doing. “Markee’s been trying to call you. He said Heather bought a ticket out of the city. Train ticket to New York. She and her friend have been texting back and forth about her going down there today.”
“It seems like a waste to go down there today when I told her to show up at the mansion tomorrow,” I remark gruffly, but my cousin shrugs. He’s a fucking nerd, with his stupid suspenders and pasty skin that barely sees the light of day. But then again, that’s why Robert’s father made me the head of the Irish Mafia and not him. “Why does Hustler need help with the books?”
“He can’t read as fast as I can and apparently doesn’t own a calculator,” Robert frowns, and Hustler laughs a full-belly laugh. “It’s a one-way ticket, Jack.”
“I guess that’s my queue to take off,” I sigh in resignation; I really would’ve liked to continue beating the shit out of this guy for a while longer. Looking back at him, I shake my head before pointing at Hustler. “Cut off his hands and dump him somewhere. And pull in Alisha to find that fucking money.”
“Ew, I’ll come up with you, Jack,” Robert’s so fucking squeamish, but I don’t comment on it. He’s my cousin, I love and trust him, but he’s a fucking pussy if there ever was one. Good thing he’s smart as Hell. Even better, he never wanted this job and sold out the few people who came to him about trying to overthrow me. Taking the stairs, I sniffle as I emerge into the empty club. “So, what’re you gonna do about her?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” I answer, walking behind the bar to wash my hands; my cut, bruised knuckles stinging fiercely. “When’s the train leaving?”
“An hour and 47 minutes,” he says, and I scowl. Robert just frowns at me some more while I turn off the tap. “It would be two hours if you answered your phone, Jack.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s good. That gives me enough time to finish downstairs. Go stop Hustler for me real quick,” I demand, grinning broadly when Robert full-on scowls at me. Still, he turns to head back down into the basement, and I chuckle. “I shouldn’t be so hard on him.”
Robert had it rough; my uncle's father heaped so much responsibility on him from a young age. Even when it was clear that Robert wasn't cut out for the top job, his father persisted. My cousin ended up fleeing after learning that his father was going to force him to kill someone.
He has a gentle, uncaring soul. My aunt suspected Robert had Asbergers syndrome because of his cold and calculated demeanor. Shaking my head, I grab a clean glass and pour myself a shot of whiskey as my mind wanders back to our teenage years.
When he ran away, his father was humiliated. Finally, the old man had to accept that no matter what he did, Robert was not going to succeed him. Good for me, because I was relatively obscure at the time. My uncle had been fixated on Robert, but now he was focused on me.
“It’s best this way. Robert thrives in his little library, and I thrive out here,” I mutter to myself, downing my glass in one gulp. Hissing, I check my watch briefly before nodding to myself. “Time to get to it.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Jack
I walk down a short stairwell to the train platform and almost immediately notice Heather's bright, mahogany curls fluttering in the tunnel airflow. I pause, tilt my head back, and bite my bottom lip. She's even more stunning in person.
A raging fire rips through my veins, flushing all of my blood to my cock. Heather looks around, her eyes gleaming from the light of her phone. When she puckers her lips in a pout, I can't help but walk toward her. As I approach her, goosebumps cover my body and excitement rings in my ears.
“Someone’s,” I whisper gruffly in Heather’s ear, and she stiffens. Leaning my chin on her shoulder, I growl deep in my throat at the fat suitcase sitting on her feet. “Been a bad girl. Where are you trying to go, Heather?”
“No,” My heart stutters in a laugh at her vicious retort, and I arch a brow. Straightening, I round her to catch the fire in her eyes and color flooding her cheek. “I’m not. I’m not telling you.”
“That’s fine.” A predatory grin stretches my lips when she bristles under my gaze at my whisper. “I already know. Did you think you could run from me,m'eudail? Fleeing to New York City won’t put you out of my reach.”
Heather's eyelid twitches in agitation, and I wrap an arm around her back to pull her to me. Her lush, perky tits protrude from beneath her snap-up blouse. When her nipples harden against my chest, hot exhilaration floods my system as I soak in the sight and feel of her. I force her to look at me through shining brown eyes as I cup her cheek with my free hand. “Answer me. Did you think you could run from me?”
“I was... going to visit my friend for the weekend,” She answers, her hot breath seeping through my button-down, and I arch a quizzical brow. Heather blushes, licking her lips, and I can feel her trying not to wriggle against me while she tries to come up with a lie. “To celebrate. And we— well, it’s been a while since we saw each other in person.”
“You’re so bad at lying, it’s adorable,” I chuckle affectionately when Heather’s eyes widen in surprise, and I grip her chin to thumb her lower lip. “Why only one ticket, then?”
“B- because there are more trains out of New York City than—” she trails off, alarm brightening her gaze. “How’d you know that? Did you— did you hack my emails?”
“This friend,” I ignore her question, and Heather holds her breath. I know it’s not her boyfriend, but her face— ugh, I can’t get enough of those beautiful expressions she makes. “It wouldn’t happen to be your boyfriend, would it?”
“No,” She barks out a bitter laugh, and my heart starts to beat harder when she shakes her head. Her luscious, mahogany curls bounce, perfectly framing her round face and the grimace that twists her expression. “He— he broke up with me.”
“Good,” I breathe, caressing her jaw and tangling my hand in her hair. The strands are soft and smooth, and I tighten my arm around her waist. Her little cry is music to my ears, her blush growing fiercer as I lean to whisper in her ear. “That makes this easier.”
“What, oh!” Heather groans softly when I reach to grab her plump ass, which perfectly fits in her high-waisted jeans. She palms my chest, trying to push me away, but I don’t budge. Squeezing her ass cheek, I lean to take a deep breath of her scent and growl seductively.
I grab her by the waist and push her against the nearest wall, caging her with my arms so she can’t escape. “You’re coming with me, Heather,” I whisper gravelly, desire crawling up my throat. “Don’t fight it, or I’ll have to get... rough. You don’t want that, do you?”
“I— I shouldn’t. My train—” She stammers, and grip on her hair, tugging lightly.
