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He was dragging his feet because of the damn girl. He should have been back in LA already, getting the rest of the club into motion. John would be fine without him, but he wanted to be a part of the action. He needed to know what was going on. His father, more specifically, needed him to be the eyes and ears for the cartel’s interests. People had a way of being saved when John was left to his own devices.
His father summoned him with a hearty yell from above. He climbed the stairs a little faster than he would have liked, fantasising about caving the old man’s head in and taking control of the empire himself. After all, he was the one who did the dirty work. The one who got the blood on his hands, snatched the girls from the pickup points, made the drops to the suppliers. His father just sat behind his desk and yelled orders while he got his cock sucked by his very blonde, very young secretary. But even as Dornan fantasised about Emilio’s comeuppance, he knew what he really wanted was just for his father to tell him he was proud of him. He was pathetic.
‘Pop,’ Dornan drawled.
As if to reinforce his thoughts, the little blonde hurried past him, her skirt ruffled and her bright red fuck-me lipstick smeared across one cheek. Dornan made no move to step aside, crowding her with his broad shoulders as she squeezed past.
‘Be nice,’ Emilio said sharply. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you did to Margie.’
Dornan snickered as he remembered Margie moaning beneath him. He hadn’t done anything to her that she hadn’t wanted. The girl was practically begging for it.
‘I wonder how Margie’s going?’ Dornan said, sitting down across from his father. Small talk. It was what they did before getting to the business side of things.
‘Going nowhere with a bullet in her head,’ Emilio said dismissively.
Dornan raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. ‘I thought she was your favourite?’
‘She was talking to the boys in blue.’
Dornan balled his fists angrily. You couldn’t trust anyone in this business. He shook his head in disdain.
‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I hope you made it slow.’
Emilio grinned, and Dornan couldn’t help but glance at his gold tooth. He hated it, always had. As a small boy, it had freaked him out, and the feeling hadn’t abated as he grew. He imagined the tooth sparkling as his father ate someone’s flesh from their bones. He was a sadistic motherfucker.
‘Oh, yes,’ Emilio said, clearly revelling in his trip down a blood-soaked memory lane. ‘I fucked her with the gun first. One of those .45s. It was a big bastardo. She didn’t like that at all.’
Dornan chuckled, knowing it was the expected reaction, but inside he felt disgust. Not surprise, though. He’d stopped being surprised by his father’s abhorrent antics a long time ago.
‘So,’ Emilio said briskly, and Dornan knew what would come next. ‘Business.’
Bingo. Predictable old bastard. He was only sixty but life had been hard on him, and the wrinkles around his eyes told of some of that hardness. Some of that struggle.
‘I’ve managed to rustle up some product to get us through.’
‘Not from that fuck Murphy,’ Dornan said, before he could bite his tongue.
Anger flashed in his father’s cold eyes. ‘He’s a crazy motherfucker, Dornan, but he has something that I need. That we need.’
Dornan fought to maintain some semblance of calm.
‘I need your boys to go and get it.’
Dornan wanted to roll his eyes so badly, it hurt. Of course you do. The old man always fucking needed something.
‘When and where?’ Dornan asked.
Emilio began to recite times and addresses, as Dornan struggled to pay attention. A thought of the girl flashed in his head. Would she still be here when he returned? He waited patiently, committing to memory everything his father recited. He bore the conversation with outward patience, the girl’s eyes filling up every facet of his being inside.
Finally, Emilio got to the end of his spiel, surveying his son with cold precision. Dornan dreaded that look. It was like his father saw right through him. And invariably, he did.
‘Ask me what you’re going to ask me,’ Emilio said bluntly.
Dornan shrugged. ‘I wasn’t going to ask you anything.’
Emilio’s look of indifference morphed almost immediately. ‘Figlio mio,’ he drawled, as his grin rapidly expanded. My son. ‘I know your thoughts before you do. You want to know what will happen to the girl.’
Mother. Fucker.
