Cover

Content Discovery

If you are not familiar with my writing I am going to be honest and let you know a few things.

In this book there is spice, lots of spice. There is also violence, the kind that is descriptive in nature and most certainly on the page. Did I mention there is a lot of spice?

This book in particular deals with some medical themes around breast cancer and mutism - both of which carry through the entire book. There is also touch points on drug addiction.

Finally it is a good book. Like really good. Like hard to put it down kind of good.

You have been warned. Enjoy.

Dedication

To all the girls who want an adventure…

1

Dante Luciano

My eyes flick to Carter, as the stench of smoke and sex filter through my nose. We are both on high alert as we scour the room for movement. Coming to Allure at this early morning hour may not have been my best plan, but with Sebastian in Sicily for another few weeks, he has left New York for me to manage, and this is the call I made.

Allure is smaller than I remember, scummier. With every step I take, my boots stick to the carpet, the sound making us less inconspicuous than I would like. As my team and I move around the furniture, I don’t miss seeing the ripped vinyl seats and the chipped dance floor. My reflection is clouded in the dirty mirrors, and the tables look about as clean as the floor. It has been a while since I’ve entered this strip club in Queens, and as I walk slowly through the space, flashes of memory fill my brain of seeing my ex-wife dancing on one of these poles. My shoulders stiffen at the thought, and already I want to get the hell out of here.

Ever since Sebastian’s girl Goldie was taken last year by Riccardo Baldo, Sebastian has made each member of the family disclose every business, property, and asset on a monthly basis. All families have been happily obliging to the new terms because as head family, we offer benefits to do so. Increased men, additional security, a direct line to the head of the NYPD. You give us your details, we give you bonuses; our generosity knows no bounds.

But a month ago, we noticed something off here with the Russo family in Queens. A small outfit, the two brothers do the sneaky jobs for us, like filtering drugs through obscure avenues. We pay them handsomely, supporting them, and I know that Sebastian has given them more than one opportunity to be further up the chain than they deserve. They have several properties, this strip club being one of them, but from the looks of it, there is no money here and any money made here is obviously being moved into something else. Or to someone else.

At 5am, I expected to see people here. Patrons drinking liquor, smoking cigarettes, and watching scantily clad girls wrap their long legs around the shiny silver poles, all the while getting dollar bills thrown their way. But it is empty. Quiet. Another thing that doesn’t sit well with me.

The front door was unlocked and had no security, so we walked straight in. But there are no bar staff or waitresses, no dancers, no music. Not even a cleaner, even though they desperately need one.

My hand tightens on the cold metal of my gun, as we continue through the main room, toward the faint light we see coming from under the door at the back.

Our team is small, but here with Carter by my side, I hope I can get this done and buried. Our getaway car is parked down the street, waiting for us if needed. I don’t desire bloodshed this morning; I am merely here to ask questions and demand answers. But I don’t mind seeing grown men cry, and if the color red ends up across this grimy floor, then I would say I have earned my keep today.

We are halfway to the back door when it opens. My team spreads quickly as I remain at the front to meet whoever comes through the door head on. Dominic Russo walks through with five of his men behind him and the minute they see us, everyone stiffens. His men don’t reach for their guns. They are not that stupid. They know who I am. The minute they raise a gun at me, they know that they have a death sentence.

“Dominic, I love what you have done with the place,” I say sarcastically as I saunter toward him. I raise my hands, showcasing the shithole of the place, but keep my gun firmly wrapped in my right hand, while I raise my eyebrows at him in mock delight.

“Dante. I wasn’t expecting a visit today,” he says, sounding a bit out of breath, clearly surprised by our appearance. I see a bead of sweat travel down the side of his pocket-scarred face.

Dominic Russo and his brother Federico may be gangsters, but that is their only appealing quality. And that’s saying something. Italian with dark hair and brown eyes, they are skinny with large pointy noses, bad teeth, and carry an air of arrogance that has yet to be earned. I often observe people and wonder what type of animal they look like. These Russo men are a year apart in age and both look like rats.

Filthy, pathetic rats.

“I am full of surprises, Dominic, and it appears that so are you.” I stalk closer. My eyes don’t leave his, waiting for a tell, and I get it. His right eye twitches, and I know whatever he is about to say is a lie.

“We are renovating the place, Dante. Plans are being drawn up as we speak!” He puffs out his chest slightly and a smile peppers his face, thinking he has the perfect cover. The mere look of him makes me want to put my knife in him, to cut him from belly to throat. I hate liars. I hate people who keep things from me. Again, flashes of my ex-wife flick in my memory; of her being the biggest liar and disappointment of my thirty-five years on this earth.

I stop a few feet away from him and chuckle, low and threatening. He obviously takes me for a complete moron and has severely underestimated who I am and what I am capable of. A problem I am happy to rectify.

“Try again,” I grit out, shaking my head to feign disappointment as I see Carter and my team move strategically around me, knowing what is about to happen. Dominic’s men stay still, their eyes roaming the movement, and the smile falls from Dominic’s face.

He looks at me, his face becoming red with fury. The man doesn’t like being talked down to. None of us do, but he is so slimy, he belongs down in the hole he crawled out of. If it wasn’t for him, then my now ex-wife wouldn’t be addicted to drugs, wouldn’t be dancing on a pole, and would be the mother my son deserves instead of the sad excuse for a life that she now is.

“Perhaps we can meet later this week. I can get the building plans for you then, show you what we have in store for the place,” he says, almost threateningly, and I tilt my head, not liking the tone he is taking with me.

His men start to move around the room, sensing the change in their leader’s demeanor, positioning themselves near my team. We are equal numbers, but they have nothing on us. I rub my chin and tilt my head while I pretend to mull over his offer, as my men position themselves better, edging backwards to the front door. He is a complete fool for thinking that we will just walk away, but I will use that to my advantage.

Sebastian will be annoyed if we can’t put this to bed and get our money back, so as Dominic looks around at his team, I lift my gun. The warm metal presses firmly in my palm, and by the time he looks back at me, the barrel is pointing directly at his face.

“Now, what makes you think I have time to see you this week, Dominic? I am a very busy man, surely you know this?” At my taunting, his eyes drill into me. To anyone else, he would be intimidating, but to me, he is nothing.

“What do you want, Dante?” he asks, acting like we didn’t loan him one million dollars for the refurbishment of this place and his repayment is now overdue. He knows that his date for full repayment was yesterday, yet he continues to goad me, trying to showcase his power, of which he has none. I watch as his men reach for their guns, some of them shaking, because they already know that their end might be near. It appears that Dominic is the only one in this room that is disillusioned enough to think anything else.

I cackle at that, the smile not reaching my eyes. I want to shoot him, I do. Then I want to hang his body from the top of the stripper pole and leave him for his brother to find.

But that can’t happen today.

“You know what, Dominic? I’m sure we can talk later this week,” I say as I relax my stance, and I see his visible relief. “Boys, let's go!” I call out to my team, my eyes not leaving Dominic’s. He begins to smile, thinking he has won.

His men keep their guns out and ready, as my team and I walk backwards, making our way slowly to the front door, one of my men already outside signaling to my backup team.

As we reach the entrance, I see his men start to relax, and like a cobra, I strike.

I fire my gun at Dominic’s thigh, the bullet piercing his muscle and coming out the other side, embedding itself on the stage nearby.

“Fuuuuucckkkk!” he roars, clutching his leg, falling to the ground. “Well, don’t just stand there! Shoot him!” Screaming to his team, he waves his arms about, and only a blink later do bullets start flying.

My team fires to harm because we came here as a warning, not to start a war. Sebastian won’t be happy, but it appears that Dominic is taking that decision right out of my hands as his team shoots to kill. After all that Dominic has done to me in the past, I wouldn’t mind seeing his blood splattered all across the room, so my team and I rush out the door, dodging shots until we’re outside on the sidewalk.

We have mere seconds before the onslaught continues. Bullets fly through the air one after another, as each of his team race outside, clawing for the accolade of being the person that kills Dante Luciano, Sebastian Romano’s right-hand man. But their aim is as straight as their business, and they miss every attempt at making me their target.

I see two of his men each take a bullet to the chest, their bodies flying backwards, slumping against the brick wall behind them. Red now coats their white shirts, and I know this isn’t going to look good, but there was no way I was going to back down. Not this time. We have given him more than enough chances, yet he still thought it was better for him to start firing than for him to tell the truth and leave the bloodshed to another day.

I look left and right and see all my team still upright as we wait for the rest of the party to join us outside. Inside would have been a better option for bloodshed this morning, but I will take it out here on the footpath just the same. The door to the club flies open, and gunfire rages again, as the remainder of his men stalk out shooting, with no consideration for the outside world. Glass shatters from the broken windows of the cars nearby where stray bullets have found their surface. The sidewalk is beginning to be coated in red as another one of his team falls to the ground.

My gun is constantly firing, while I also keep an eye on each of my team, making sure crimson doesn’t coat their frames. I am not losing anyone in this shitshow. No one is getting injured on my watch. My frustrations rise more and more as the popping sound encasing us all. We came to ruffle feathers, not to kill the entire goose.

Just as his team storms closer, I catch a movement to my left and I see her. She is like a rabbit caught in headlights, and I don’t even think, I just do.

2

Annie Peterson

My feet slap against the pavement in perfect rhythm as I move through the quiet dark streets, lost in my own thoughts. Running has always been my savior, my north star, the one thing that calms and soothes me. I need a moment to center myself after taking a terrifying speeding cab through the city after jumping off the red eye into New York this morning.

After I got to the safety of my room, I had little time to rest my beating heart. Although the room looks like the photos from the website, it was clear that they took creative license with the photography. It is much smaller than I thought it would be. The bathroom has mold, the TV doesn’t work, there is no internet, and I am reasonably sure that I need to place the broken armchair in front of the door when I sleep to ensure I don’t get stabbed in the middle of the night.

It was hard to miss the peeling paint on the walls, and although the bed is large, it is fully made up with shiny black linen, making me think that they rent the rooms by the hour. And after skimming through the paperwork this morning when I arrived, I felt like an idiot as I realized that they do just that. Lovely.

The damp smell of my new dingy room still lingers in my nostrils as I try to take deep breaths into my lungs, pushing my legs to go faster, only the waft of garbage from the streetscape around me makes me nearly stop and gag.

I am a country girl in the city for the first time, so my expectations may have been a little high considering my accommodation choice was limited. It is my own fault, really. I didn’t research this trip at all, and this was one of the only hotels in New York I could afford. I’m already stretching my dollars far enough.

So, I decided not to stick around in the shabby room for any longer than I had to. I left my small duffle bag that contains my entire life in the small wardrobe, then quickly changed into my active wear, and now I am running my stress and fears away down the streets of the Big Apple.

I look down at my emerald-green crop top and matching leggings, proud of the look I pulled from the top of my bag. They were a generous gift from my old neighbor Lilly. They were a Christmas gift she didn’t like, so she passed them over the fence to me. She has watched me go running every morning for the past five years, usually in baggy sweats and old, beaten shoes. She said green wasn’t her color, but that it would suit my flaming red hair and pale complexion, which I thought was really sweet. I thanked her eagerly, always wanting such an outfit but never having the money to spend on such frivolous things.

Aside from this outfit and a few other tops and pairs of jeans, there really is nothing else. After mom died two months ago, I sold everything, and by the time I paid all our debts, there wasn't much left over.

I slow my pace to catch my breath, my hand involuntarily resting on my chest, rubbing the small lump in my breast. My fate is no doubt going to be the same as my mother’s, but unlike her, I have decided to live the rest of my life to the fullest instead of in a drug haze. No matter how short that life now may be.

Looking around, I realize that I only have a little time left of the darkness before the morning breaks, and although my body is weary, my mind is alert.

I pick up my pace, passing a few shops, many of which are boarded up. A convenience store and a few more by-the-hour hotels come into view before I’m crossing the road and guessing my way through the maze of streets, hoping that I am heading toward the water. It will be nice to watch the sunrise from the edge of Queens, even with the planes flying in and out of JFK Airport scattering across the sky.

I make it exactly two blocks before I realize that I am lost. Stopping, I wander down the street to try and catch my breath. Running is the only thing that has gotten me through the past few years, but my stamina is not what it used to be, so the walk is a welcome reprieve. Glancing left, then right, I curse myself for not bringing a map or my phone, or even looking at one before I left. I will definitely need to think more clearly from now on, living in the city.

With the faint glow of the morning sun, I begin down the street, on a mission to find a shop that may be open to ask for directions. Sunrise is certainly different here than back home in Oklahoma. I can’t really see much through the buildings. But I wanted an adventure; that is the whole point of being here, and after only an hour in this place, I realize that’s most certainly what I have got.

I spot some people gathered down the street and decide I’ll ask them for directions. Sprinting off with renewed enthusiasm, I pay little attention to what they are doing, but as I get closer, I see that they are all men. My step falters, and I begin to slow my pace, as they look aggressive even at a distance. But I have nowhere to turn without it looking suspicious, my red hair high in a ponytail swishing back and forth as I come to a stop. I’m unsure of what my next move should be. Maybe I could still ask for directions and then just keep running… a lot faster?

As I open my mouth, about to speak, I hear a popping sound, along with screams of terror as gunfire goes off all around us.

I stand rooted to the ground, too scared to move. My feet feel like they are encased in cement, and my heart thumps right out of my chest. Is this the way I am going to meet my maker? Is this it? Right here on the streets of New York, is this how it will end for me? My mind is telling me to move, but my body is so stiff, I can’t; my legs won’t budge, and my glazed eyes don’t leave the mess of men and blood. This can’t be happening…

In the next breath, the air completely leaves my lungs as a tall, dark-haired man grabs me, literally sweeping my feet from under me. The panic slows, the noise a mere blur as his hands wrap around my body, pulling me to him before we land hard on my back onto the sidewalk. My head is protected by his hand, his strong body covering mine. I can barely breathe as his weight sandwiches me between him and the sidewalk, protecting me. The noise of the gunfire rushes back into my senses as soon as my shock settles, and I bury my head against him, my face firmly planted into his chest.

Popping noises continue, alongside the overwhelming sound of multiple people yelling orders, including my savior, who is still on top of me. I have no idea what they are saying, though, and that only makes me more nervous. I grip onto his shirt even tighter, squeezing my eyes, the feeling of his body the only comforting sense I have to give me hope of surviving.

Then, everything stops. Things go silent, eerily so, and he moves his head until his lips meet my ears.

“You’re okay. Everything is okay,” he says in a deep baritone voice, with a hint of accent that feels like honey poured down my body, soothing me instantly from the inside out.

My grip on him remains white-knuckled, my eyes still squeezed shut, as I hear him shouting again, his hands firmly around my body, keeping me wrapped in his arms. Before I know what is happening, he lifts me effortlessly, and is standing on the sidewalk. I have no idea what is happening or who he even is, but I decide to trust him.

“Hold on, Little Red. I need to make sure you are safe.” My legs circle his waist, my arms wind around his neck, and as I rest my head against his solid chest, his masculine aroma calms me.

But then I lift my head for a moment and immediately wish I hadn’t. The first dead body I ever saw was my mother’s and that was two months ago. I can now add another five or so to that list, although the sight of these men is much more disturbing. I bury my head into the crook of his neck, the image of what I just saw now burned into my brain, almost making me retch.

His arm around my lower waist keeps me with him, while he yells some more, and I try to think of anything other than what could possibly be happening right now. What I’ve been witness to.

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!

Read the complete book free online → 🔗

Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!

Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!

Happy Reading!