Tony

 

"You know we can't do this again, right?"

 

"Ha. I mean, we could. But it'd be damn dumb of us."

 

"Which is why we can't. I had a good time, though."

 

"Me too, sugar lips. Me too."

 

I should have kept a number. Gotten an address. Hell, I should have brought her back here to show her a nice week or so of what it would be like letting me at her sweet pussy in a bed instead of in a dirty alleyway. But I had thought that I was making the smart choice when I let that pretty little piece of Brown ass go that night at her daddy's fundraiser.

 

I was dead wrong.

 

She'd tasted like candy and felt like velvet heaven between her thighs. She’d had a supple body, honey hair, and these pink, pink lips that got all swollen after a cock was in her mouth. I didn’t think I'd ever fucked someone who made me want it so badly again and again, but I guessed that was what I got for sticking my dick in a walking honey pot.

 

"Yo. T. Pay the fuck attention. Come on."

 

I put out my cigarette and tore my eyes from the television. Honey Pot's daddy—asshole of a governor, Rick Brown—was on it, talking himself up like he was something when everyone knew he wouldn't be shit without a little illegal side action. No matter, though. Less concern I had for that man and more concern for his daughter. Where the fuck was she? No one had seen her in a few weeks. They kept talking about how she was off doing some bullshit charity garbage for her father. I couldn't care less about that shit; I wanted another taste.

 

"Allan," I called, turning off the television in the living room and heading out to the front where my boy was waiting for me.

 

"Why you keep watching that shit, man? Just listening to that slimy motherfucker talk gives me stomach issues," he joked, bumping his fist against my shoulder and laughing. I shoved him right back. We'd been friends since we were in diapers; it was normal by now.

 

"I wanna see where his daughter is," I said.

 

"That pretty, blonde honey? With the fat ass?"

 

I smacked him.

 

"Aye, yeah, that one."

 

"You got it in, didn't you? You fucked Brown's baby girl. Shit, man, that's dirty."

 

I chuckled as we left out the front door.

 

"Well, it was pretty dirty. And she's not that much of a goody-goody girl herself. Fucks like she gets paid to do it."

 

He whistled. "Damn, man, you lucky as hell. I can't even get Rosamaria to let me get it wet—"

 

"That's because she's sweet on Calcio. You're never gonna get it wet in Rosamaria."

 

"You got it wet in Rosamaria!"

 

"Yeah, because I have game and you don't."

 

We made our way through the compound like this, joking and laughing and all that dumb shit. The compound itself was impressive, with big buildings and plush-ass grass—built from years of blood, sweat, and toil that my family put in raising ourselves from near poverty to the one of the largest mafia families of the west coast. At the head, currently, was my father. Geno Esposito. Every bit of him could be found in every inch of this compound. He was the one who really pushed us to where we were today, and he never failed to remind people of that fact, nor did he ever fail to remind me.

 

One day, all this would be mine. One day, he'd know that it was his son and his blood who ruled this mother.

 

But until then ...

 

"Yo, so T, what you have me going on this field trip with you for, eh? What's the downlow? And why didn't you want me to tell Papa G about it? You know he don't like it when I slip and slide on telling him what's going on. He gets all twitchy and shit."

 

"We're looking for someone."

 

"Someone?"

 

I grinned and looked over at him as I pulled us out of the compound lot.

 

"We're looking for a Honey Pot."

 

# # #

 

I'd been keeping an eye on Rick Brown's campaign for a while, namely at the request of my father. I'd kept an eye on it after seeing his hot piece of a daughter. Now, I'd watched it closer, ever since I got a hit of her, and I intended to find where he was hiding her. He couldn't possibly have found out about us—but hell, even if he had, what the fuck could he do? I'd fuck his pretty, little girl on his desk right in front of his face if I had to.

 

'Course, I had to find her, first.

 

I drove Allan and I through town, then a little ways out of it. You could get any information you wanted if you paid enough money, and I'd pulled enough cash to pop a nice price on locating Evelyn Brown. Allan seemed to get where we were going as soon as I pulled into the parking lot for Donnie's, a mechanic's shop just on the outskirts of town, before the road hit the desert. It’s another fifty miles before the next gas station, clean place to piss, and roach-free motel to fuck someone pretty in.

 

"Dude, you hired Monroe? This Honey Pot that special?"

 

"Man, you don't even know," I said. "You don't even know."

 

Allan shook his head in disbelief, but he followed me anyway, like he always did; he was loyal like that and would only question me to a certain point. I liked that. There was no one there when we went in, the doorbell dinging pathetically. I leaned on the grimy front counter and waited.

 

Monroe came through a few minutes later. He was a big bastard, clearing six feet easily, with long, greying dreads going down his back and a patch over one of his eyes. He used to run with an MC, back in the sixties. Big-ass black man on a bike; he's seen some shit. It was why I gave him so much respect.

 

"Tony," he grunted at me, shaking my hand in a meaty grip. "You're here sooner than I thought."

 

"You said you found my girl."

 

Monroe laughed.

 

"Aye, fool boy, I found your girl. One moment."

 

He reached under the counter, fiddling around with his eyes. I heard the metallic clank of a file cabinet opening and waited as patiently as I damn well could for him to emerge again with a file.

 

"Evelyn Brown," he said. "Daughter of Governor Rick Brown. Last seen publicly at the fundraiser held at the convention center. She's been out of the public eye for a few weeks. They say she's on some charity run."

 

"Shit, I already know."

 

"Aye. I dug a little, though. Seems her father's put in a decent bit of cash, setting up residence three counties over. Nice, but not too nice. He’s paid in advance the salaries of a maid, two guards, and an undercover cop to keep a look out on said residence. I may have pulled a few strings and gotten you some pictures you might be interested in."

 

It was then that he flips open the file. There were some papers in there, but on top are black and whites of Evelyn entering and leaving a standard house, accompanied by an older woman. She looked annoyed as all hell, but still so fucking gorgeous. The way those lips of hers poked out ...hell.

 

"So, what's this all about? She's not on a charity gig, then, obviously."

 

"Obviously. I didn't find too much, but I did look into Ms. Brown's financial records and found something you might be interested in."

 

"And what's that?"

 

"The last purchase she made on her regular card was at a local pharmacy. She bought a pregnancy test.