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The second favor wasn’t difficult, but it did remind me that his daughter, the luminous Zoe Thibodeaux, was headed back to town after several years of being away. She’d been little more than a kid when she’d left for college, a typical eighteen-year-old with a chip on her shoulder, flirtatious as hell. It had been easy then to ignore the crush she’d developed on me. Several years had passed since then but after Arman had recently requested that I shadow her in New York given his growing concern forher welfare, everything had changed. Desire had reared its ugly head, making it almost impossible to block the girl out of my mind.
I’d stood in the shadows after stalking her for over a week, watching as she performed in what I considered a seedy club on the west side of town. An adventure far removed from both the required protocol of her life and of her status as princess of one of the most powerful mafia families within the United States. It was a secret she kept from her father. I was certain of it. Who was I to interfere? She was a woman after all.
Damn it.
The thought of seeing the sweet, innocent, and vulnerable Zoe again was like having a dagger driven into my heart. Sighing, I rubbed my jaw, realizing it was as tight as my chest.
Just thinking about her made my cock ache, my balls tighten. That couldn’t happen. Period.
There were rules in every business, the ones inside the Thibodeaux organization brutal yet fair. However, among friends there was a code of ethics that shouldn’t need to be written down or clarified. Thou shalt not entertain lurid thoughts about your boss’ and best friend’s daughter. Unfortunately, I’d been a rule breaker my entire life.
Why stop now?
Because Arman would fucking kill me. “Anything else?” I asked as I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. Even though I had the windows closed on my Charger, I could still hear the thumping bass drum from the blaring music the asshole was playing. How the hell could her neighbors stand to listen to thatcrap? Great. Now I was showing what Zoe had often called my advanced age.
“She adores Kristal champagne. That’s not what we’re serving. Why don’t you pick her up a bottle.”
“You’re allowing her to drink? I’m in shock.”
“Pu-lease. She’s been living on her own for years. She’s a full-grown adult, something she continues to flaunt in front of my face.”
Yeah. He shouldn’t remind me of that. Since returning from New York, I’d done everything possible to keep visions of her stunning face and voluptuous body out of my mind. That had included hours spent in the gym pumping iron and boxing until exhaustion had taken a significant toll on my muscles. Hell, I’d even gotten another tattoo. Yet the lurid fantasies had remained, lingering in my mind alongside visions of a thick rope ready to be wrapped around my neck. Fuck me. “I’ll be happy to. Incidentally, I found Blockhead with his gal,” I told him, trying to draw the conversation back to business. We’d taken to calling the stupid Italian that since he’d been given a second chance after fucking up a direct order less than a year before.
At this point, it was best to keep my mind on the business at hand.
“You are the man, which is why I sent you to handle this.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, buddy. You sent me because that lovely wife of yours would kick your butt straight to Texas if you didn’t help her with the final events for the party.”
He groaned and all I could do was grin. “Okay, fine. You’re right.”
If anyone had told me that a gorgeous woman would have the merciless, savage man wrapped around her little finger so tightly all she had to do was give him a heated look and he’d jump, it would have been a call for a bloody battle. But Raven had managed to soften the guy, his young son adding fuel to the family fire.
That wasn’t the kind of thing that I could allow to happen in my life. I was the enforcer, the man who kept the peace in a city full of demons and witches. My reputation suggested I commanded Black Magic. Who was I to alter our enemies’ train of thought?
“Haven’t you figured out that I’m always right?”
Arman laughed. “Handle business as you see fit but don’t be late or Raven will have your hide. The roses are important.”
“Stop worrying. I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I ended the call, shoving the phone into my jacket. While I was certain Raven would admonish me for wearing black to a festive college graduation party, it was the color suit I always wore when handling business, a signature that had fit the term Wiseguy and the other moniker that was whispered in the darkness.
The Boogeyman was back in action. Maybe a little violence would soothe the savage beast inside. It was worth a try anyway.
I’d been given the feared moniker years before because I usually struck in the middle of the night, easing from the shadows and killing my victims without a second thought. I’d enjoyed the earned reputation, the terror that I’d instilled in the hearts of our enemies. The cloak of darkness had protected me over the years, not that anyone would dare go against me. I glanced at thewaning light in the sky and sighed. Today was an exception only because the party was being held early evening, allowing Zoe to get settled after her flight from New York arrived.
Before stepping out of my car, I grabbed the brass knuckles, a recent birthday gift from Arman. I rolled the rough pads of my fingers over the thick brass, appreciating the feel. I’d yet to use them but my knuckles were bruised from the beating I’d given a disobedient soldier only a day before.
I wasn’t getting any younger, my ability to heal not nearly as fast as it had once been. I rolled my eyes as I checked the ammunition, slapping the magazine back in place on my Glock. After exiting the vehicle, I scanned the street. If anyone was paying any attention, I’d never know it.
And they certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to contact the police.
I crossed the street, thinking about how I wanted to handle this. Time was of the essence, which would prevent me from engaging in my usual enjoyable activities. That didn’t mean the pipsqueak wouldn’t suffer first. It just meant I couldn’t carve pieces off his body as I preferred to do. Besides, I had his girlfriend to contend with and she was a handful and a half.
Plus, I wasn’t into hurting or killing women, no matter the bad deeds they’d done in their lives. It was all about respect, women vital in the world of powerful men. In truth, they ran the show. I grinned as I headed toward the small house, the dilapidated home fitting of the rundown neighborhood. If Ricky and Gina didn’t shoot up their earnings, placing it in stocks as I’d done, they’d be able to afford a nice place, a decent car. But no. Heroin was their proclivity of choice.
