I’m driving back into the city. I still smell her on me. Feel her cum on my dick. She was so tight, I thought for a minute she was a fucking virgin. And she was aroused from minute one.

I meant what I said to her too. That I like taking. Thing is, she likes it too. She wants it. Wants me to take. She just can’t bring herself to admit it. But her pussy, it doesn’t lie. Her lips may lie, but her body can’t.

My cellphone vibrates on the seat beside me. It’s Hugo. I hit a button on the steering wheel and I can hear the club in the background.

“Kill.”

His standard greeting. I met Hugo during my time behind bars. By the time I got there, he’d already served six years for killing some white supremacist prick. Back then, I wasn’t sure of my release only four years into my sentence. But when Dominic Benedetti came through, when he pulled the strings that got me my early release, I hired Hugo as soon as he was out. Favors from the local boss of the Italian mafia don’t come cheap and I needed him as much as he needed the work. I still don’t know the details why Benedetti did it. I know he had some beef with my uncle, and I guess my killing him solved that, but he didn’t owe me shit.

The gentlemen’s club, Mea Culpa, it’s mine. Not my big fucking dream, but it works. Makes me the money I need. Gives me a gateway to funnel through shit that, even though the local authorities know is getting funneled, needs to be done discreetly. They know their greedy little fingers are greased by the mob and they take it, all behind their hypocritical faces.

“We have a problem,” Hugo continues.

I can guess what the problem is. His name is Benjamin Black III. My fucking dickhead cousin who, having no foot to stand on, still thinks he’s owed something. And of all things, owed it by me. The only reason I don’t kill the son of a bitch is because he’s family.

Although I guess my uncle was family too, but that sick bastard deserved to die for what he did. He’s the reason Ginny’s in the ground. He’s the reason I spent four years behind bars.

And I guess I do feel like I owe him my protection. The shit with his father—my uncle—happened when he was fourteen. He doesn’t know the extent of what that prick did and, being the good guy I am, I wanted to spare him. But what’s the expression? No good deed goes unpunished. That’s about where I’m at with Ben, known to Hugo and me as Benji. But this stunt with Jones, it’s going to need to be punished.

“What is it?”

“I want to bury my fist in your cousin’s face, that’s what.”

“You and me both. I’m on my way in. Put him in a room to cool down. I need to talk to him anyway.”

“It’s different this time. He’s brought friends to play.”

“What are you talking about?” My cousin doesn’t have friends.

“Antonino’s men. Four of them. Benji’s fucking walking around like he’s the fucking king.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I were.”

Arturo Antonino is the ousted boss of the Antonino family. In my humble opinion, Dominic Benedetti made a mistake letting him live after the incident with the Rossi family. He’d disappeared for a while, kept a very low profile, which was smart. But he’s basically split the Antonino family in two, half of whom are loyal to his cousin, and in turn, loyal to the Benedetti family, the other half merged with the Rossi family. If Antonino thinks he can somehow beat Dominic Benedetti in his own territory, he’s a fucking idiot with a death wish. Which makes my cousin, who I know for a fact is an idiot, another idiot with a death wish.

“I can ask them to leave but it’s exactly what they want me to do. There’s a van parked outside that I have a feeling is full of Rossi soldiers.”

“I’m about twenty minutes away. Just keep an eye on Benji. The fucking imbecile.”

“You got it.”

I’m parked in my reserved spot at the club fifteen minutes later. The lot is full, but it’s always full, and I see the van Hugo mentioned he thinks contains Rossi soldiers. It’s sitting at the farthest corner of the lot with the back doors open. I don’t know how many men there are but it’s more than the two standing outside smoking, watching me. They’ve also busted the overhead streetlamp. Fuckers.

The club itself is located inside a large warehouse where the main floor is the club, the basement is, well, where some of the uglier business gets handled. My office is on the floor above and Hugo lives on the top level.

Two men stand sentry at the large doors of the front entrance. They’re the first checkpoint. I nod to their greeting and they pull the doors open where inside is the second checkpoint.

“Hey boss,” Chrissy’s thick voice greets me. Chrissy is actually Chris, a transgender who may look like a sweet piece from behind the glass wall, but if you fuck with her, you’ll be on your back with the spiked heel of a $500 pump impaled in your throat. Met her in prison too. She was Chris then and got the shit beat out of her regularly. At least until I showed up she did. It only made her stronger, she says. Cup half full person, I guess.

“Evening, Chrissy. I hear we have some unwanted guests.” I strip off my coat and hand it to the girl working coat check tonight.

The smile she reserves for the usual clients vanishes. “Rossi bastards. I know for a fact at least one is armed. I let Hugo know right away.”

“You did the right thing. I’ll take care of it.”

Two more men stand at the second set of doors that lead into the club itself. They open both when I approach and I survey the space, spotting Benji immediately. He and his new friends are at the far stage where two girls are putting on a show. Bills carpet the floor of the stage, which I can understand is a huge motivator. I pay my girls well, but it’s the tips that take them into the six-figure earning category.

Benji doesn’t see my approach, but two of the men around him do. I notice their shiny revolvers when they pull their jackets back. Hugo flanks me as I give them the once over. They should know better than to come into my club armed. Benji should know better.

I walk between the men like I don’t give a fuck, because I don’t, and wrap an arm around Benji’s shoulders just as he realizes I’m there.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” I say, looking down at him. He stumbles to his feet. All 5’8” of him. At 6’4”, I’ve got eight inches on him. And about fifty pounds of solid muscle.

“Kill,” he says, his bloodshot eyes always betraying that little momentary panic he feels in my presence. He shrugs free of my hold and clears his throat, straightening his spine. He looks an inch taller tonight. I look down at his feet and I chuckle. I have to. The douche is wearing what must be a specially made pair of men’s shoes with a fucking platform. “You need to teach your dog there some manners,” he says, pointing to Hugo. He picks up his drink, some mixed shit, and takes a long sip from the straw. A fucking straw.

I feel Hugo’s eyes narrow beside me and see how Ben shrinks back. Jesus. What a fucking pussy. How the hell do we share blood?

“You know you’re welcome here anytime you like, but that invitation doesn’t extend to members of either the Antonino or the Rossi families. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

“They’re my friends.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” I’m not fucking around. I don’t want trouble, not inside. “You also know my rule about weapons.”

“We’re just having some fun. Spending money in your establishment. Putting money in your pocket.”

“I don’t need their money. Time for your friends to go home. You and me though? We need to have a talk.”

He rubs his eye, his nose, as he looks around nervously. I wonder if he’s not high on top of being drunk.

I look at Hugo. “Have Chrissy call my cousin a cab. Boys,” I say, turning to the men surrounding Ben. My men circle them. “Time to go home. And you tell whoever it is who ordered armed soldiers on my property I better never learn his fucking name. Understand?”

The idiots stand there looking at Ben for direction and he’s still rubbing his nose, one eye on the girls still making out on the stage.

“Get them out of here,” I say.

My men surround them, disarm them in a matter of moments, and have them out the exit before the rest of the patrons even notice what’s what. Ben sits back down and returns his attention to the girls. I take a seat beside him.

“What was that stunt with Jones?” I ask.

“What stunt?” But he knows what I’m talking about.

I take a deep breath in, then out. I turn to him. “Look at me, Benji.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He’s struggling to drag his gaze from the women.

“Then grow the fuck up and I won’t have to.”

He faces me.

“Why would you have an idiot like Jones steal from me? You knew he’d get caught.”

Ben’s eyes harden. “It’s fucked up when people you trust fuck you, isn’t it?”

He’s trying to make a point but he’s doing it badly. “I don’t trust him. I never did.”

Ben gives me a nervous giggle. “Just keeping you on your toes, Cous. Come on, just messin’ with you. You know I’m loyal to you.”

“You’re not messing with me. You’re messing with the fucking mob if you steal their coke. Do you have any idea what they’ll do to a guy like you?”

He clearly hasn’t thought about that part.

“Let me put it in simple terms. If they leave you alive, and that’s a big if, you’ll wish they hadn’t. You don’t fuck with men like Dominic Benedetti.”

“There’s a war brewing. New players in town. You don’t know everything, Cous.”

“I know your new friends will only get you in trouble. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Ben turns his attention back to the girls on the stage and picks up his drink. He sucks back the rest of it, then turns to me. “Don’t pretend you care about me, Kill. Not after what happened. What you did.”

“You know why it happened.” I stand. “We’re not talking about this.” I lean down close to him, take him by the collar, raise him up out of his seat. “I just need you to know that if you try to fuck me, you will fail. But when I fuck you back, I won’t. Am I clear?”

I hear him swallow. He’s scared. He always has been.

“Am I fucking clear?”

“Yes. Clear as a fucking bell.”

“Good.”

I release him and he sits back down. He returns his attention to the girls. I shake my head and head to the elevator. Hugo follows after instructing two men to keep an eye on Benji. We ride up to my office.

“If word gets to Dominic that Rossi’s men were here, he’ll send a message,” I say.

“And you’re afraid your cousin will get caught in that net?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t owe Benji shit.”

“I know that. I just feel sorry for the kid.”

“He’s not a kid anymore. He was before, but you took care of him. Your job is done.”

“Because of me he’s on his own.”

“No, because of his father, he’s on his own. He’s bad news, Kill.”

“What do you want me to do? He’s my fucking cousin.”

“He’s a bad seed.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“If Dominic finds out from someone else, he’ll be wondering why you weren’t the one to tell him.”

The elevator doors slide open to my office. Once inside, I switch on the monitors and locate Ben in one. I keep one camera trained on him and switch another one on to show me what’s happening at the Rockcliffe House. “I’ll talk to Dominic,” I say to Hugo.

He watches her over my shoulder. Cilla’s in her bedroom, sitting on the bed, combing out her wet hair. Her face is serious, her eyes far away.

“What’s the girl to you?”

“Piece of ass.”

“Nah. More than that. Piece of ass you got plenty.”

“I don’t know. Different kind of ass.”

He chuckles. “I’ll go back to the floor.”

I barely hear him. I’ve got my eyes locked on Cilla as she stands, strips off her towel and walks into the closet. When she returns, she’s wearing a tank top and a pair of panties. She climbs into bed and switches off the light. I can still see her face. Night vision lens. She’s lying on her back looking straight up into one of the cameras. It’s like she’s looking right at me.

I wonder about what Hugo said. “What’s the girl to you?” I have no fucking clue.

Cilla slides one arm beneath the duvet and I know the instant her fingers find her clit. My dick gets hard as I watch her, her hand shifting the blanket as she spreads her legs and rubs herself beneath it. But it’s her face I’m more interested in. She’s got her eyes closed and she’s caught her lower lip between her teeth. I reach to turn up the volume on that camera and I feel like the cost of the ultra-sensitive microphone has justified itself when I hear her quick breaths of air, her tiny gasps. Hear her make that sound when she comes, the one she made when my dick was splitting her in two. I rub my erection over my pants. I don’t want to use my hand tonight. I want her. I want her slick, tight pussy. Want her heat, her warmth. I want to fuck her again. Make her touch herself again while I watch. Make her come again.

“What’s the girl to you?”

Cilla draws her hand out from beneath the covers, rolls over onto her side and closes her eyes, this time to sleep.

Dirty girl. Doesn’t even wash her hands.

“What’s the girl to you?”

I don’t fucking know. A distraction? Why did I take her to Rockcliffe House? Why did I open the house again? I haven’t been there once since Ginny. Since my uncle. I always knew I’d have to go back. To face the past. Face my failing. Answer to the ghost of my sister.

Too many ghosts in that house. Hell, everyone’s a ghost but me.