Where the fuck was that fuck-tard McAvoy?

No one had seen him around town at the usual haunts.

He had a wad of my cash.

Irritation rode me like a whore.

Everything felt off.

There was an air of danger floating around, stinking the place up like a rotten turd left in the bowl.

Since I’d sent McAvoy off in search Charlie — Jesus, I was going to punish that little bitch so hard when I got her back — things had been sketchy around The Underground.

It was as if everyone sensed I was off my game.

As soon as McAvoy brought me Charlie, everything would go back to normal.

I’d fuck the shit out of her little pussy, maybe even put her in a dog collar and have her sit at my feet naked just so I could drive home the point that she belonged to me.

Then when I finally tired of her, I’d have her dropped in the river.

Little cunt had to learn that her only value was keeping me happy.

Or maybe I’ll stick to my original plan and marry her.

A brief smile curved my mouth as I savored the thought but it wasn’t to last long.

Chantel, the owner of Pussywillow, and one of my former women, walked into my office.

Older than most of my fuck toys, she still had fat ass hips made for gripping and an ass that didn’t quit.

I’d probably fuck her if she asked nicely.

Maybe if she begged on her knees I’d let her suck my cock.

Chantel was still paying her debt.

Couldn’t go too easy on those who tried to stab me in the back.

The only saving grace Chantel had was her club.

It made me a fair amount of cash each month.

And money always soothed my temper.

“Chantel…what’s happening, baby girl?” I asked, allowing my gaze to appreciate that banging body. “You come to bring me something nice?”

“I came to renegotiate,” she said, going straight to the point.

“Renegotiate? Baby girl, your terms are not up for re-fi just yet. You should know better,” I tsked. “But I’ll forgive you, if you’re real nice.” I gestured to my cock with a grin. “Remember how I like to be sucked?”

But she ignored my offer.

In fact, her dark eyes were hard as cement.

“You’re killing my business,” she said flatly. “And I can barely pay my rent. Forty percent is too much to sustain so unless you want to lose your safe haven for your deals, you’d better let up.”

“Oh baby,” I breathed, a warning in my tone. “Careful now, I care for you as one of my women but I have my limits. You know the terms of our deal. Frankly, I’d expect a little more gratitude.”

“You killed my boyfriend and then blackmailed me into giving you nearly half my business each month. What exactly am I supposed to be grateful for?”

I leaned forward, my gaze narrowing. “That I let you live.” I held her stare for a long moment before relaxing with a shrug. “I could’ve put a matching bullet in your lying mouth alongside Roberto’s.”

Chantel and Roberto had thought they had the chops to take me down. Their failed coup had cost them.

First, I made Roberto watch as I face-fucked his woman.

Second, I made Chantel watch as I put a bullet in her boyfriend’s head.

Lastly, as her man’s brains painted the back wall, I made Chantel a deal: you can earn back my forgiveness if you hand over forty percent of your profits each month and Pussywillow is my hub for sensitive transactions.

She took the deal.

The idea of breathing was a persuasive bargaining tool.

But now she wasn’t so willing to bend. What had changed?

“Chantel, why mess with a good thing? We have rebuilt our trust and we are friends. Don’t go trashing something that has value.”

“I can’t survive with the scraps you leave behind.”

“Ahhh, I see. Well, perhaps I could set you up with some more work, something that I would be happy to compensate you for.”

“I’m not a fucking whore.”

I laughed. “You’re a woman; of course you are.” A thought occurred to me. “Have you seen Damon McAvoy around in the last few days?”

Chantel’s eyes burned hot even though her tone remained cool. “No.”

“You’ll tell me if you do, correct?”

She jerked a short nod, looking as if the action cost her a piece of her soul but at least she was cooperating.

“Good. I appreciate the visit. Business good at the club?”

But Chantel wasn’t in a chatty mood.

Maybe Chantel had outworn her usefulness. I could get any number of people to run Pussywillow with less hassle.

Honestly, I swear my generous nature always seemed to make more trouble than it was worth.

“You should’ve renegotiated…friend.”

Chantel spun on her heel and walked out, leaving me to wonder what she thought she had up her sleeve.

I wasn’t worried.

Chantel was a stupid ho.

And there wasn’t no pussy out there that could outsmart me.

My gaze fell to my desk calendar to the circled date three days away.

My Charlie would be here soon.

Or else, everyone would fucking feel my wrath.

Starting with Chantel.