Kings of Chaos by Eva Ashwood
Gage
The musicfrom the main part of the club is more muted at the back. We had the office areas soundproofed just enough that we can hear ourselves think while we go over business and shit, but not so much that a riot could break out on the dance floor or something and we wouldn’t be able to hear it.
Sin and Salvation is one of the most popular clubs in this part of Detroit, so shit gets pretty rowdy and trouble could pop off at any time—something we do our best to keep from happening. It’s good to be able to keep an eye on things even when we’re not out there in the thick of it.
My three best friends and business partners are here too, sprawled over furniture or leaning up against the walls, relaxed the way they always are when we’re in our domain.
The club is a legit business, but we also use it as a front for money laundering, working with various shady organizations in the city. We talk business in the back room while the bartenders and bouncers run the club for us most of the time.
The thumping base line pulses loud enough that we can hear it and feel it from the dance floor, and Ash taps his foot along with the beat. He’s draped over a chair in a sprawl that looks uncomfortable as fuck. But he’s like that. As long as it makes him look good, he doesn’t care too much about the rest. He runs his hand through his brown hair before adjusting his glasses, shifting his gaze from me to Knox.
We’ve been discussing a possible new business deal with a local biker gang, but we haven’t gotten very far since we’re split on whether to move ahead with it or not.
“I say we do it,” Knox puts in about the issue at hand.
No one’s surprised by that. He’s always ready to leap into something dangerous, even if it’s fucking stupid. Maybe even more if it’s fucking stupid. He’s always looking for a challenge, for a chance to test his limits and see if he can come out on top even if the odds are against him. With the way he’ll do anything to get what he wants, the odds are rarely stacked that high against him.
Still, we can’t just rush into something without thinking about it first.
“We need more info,” Priest says, arms folded where he’s leaning up against the wall. His light blue eyes are hooded, and he looks bored with the conversation already, but I know he’s got his focus on everything that’s going on. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it cracks through the room anyway with its usual cold precision.
“Really? Knox, wait for more info?” Ash teases, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “You have met Knox, right? He heard ‘smuggling guns’ and probably came in his pants from the excitement of it.” He sits up and pulls a playing card from his pocket, fidgeting with it in a clear sign that he’s ready for this meeting to be over so he can go off and do something else. Someone else, more likely. He flips the card back and forth in his hand, making it disappear and reappear at will.
“It’s dangerous,” Priest fires back, cutting his gaze toward Knox. “We don’t know enough about them or who they’re working with. We don’t want to get tangled up in some bad blood that has nothing to do with us. The money isn’t worth it if it brings trouble down on our heads.”
It’s one of the longer strings of words Priest has put together in recent memory. Usually, he’s a fan of speaking as few words as possible, so I know he’s serious about being cautious.
“Yeah, I know it’s dangerous,” Ash returns with a grin. “That’s why Knox is so horny for it. It’s just more fun if things go south. The chance to take down a whole biker gang for fucking with us?” He makes a jacking off gesture with the hand that’s not playing with the card.
Knox doesn’t deny any of that or look upset about being talked about like he’s not there. He paces the center of the room with a hungry look on his face and a feral smile. He always gets twitchy when there hasn’t been any action for a while. You’d only need to look at him, big and burly and covered in scars and tattoos, to know he’s the type who doesn’t shy away from danger and always walks away from whatever decides to fuck with him.
“I don’t care about the guns,” I tell them, making them all look to me again. “I don’t know if the Diamond Devils can be trusted.” I tip my head to Priest, acknowledging his point. “If they’re tangled up in some shit we’d rather avoid, then it’s not worth it.”
“They’re low stakes,” Knox says, waving a hand. “If they try something, we’ll make ’em regret it. Simple.”
Ash points to Knox with a gesture that’s a clear I told you so. He’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the tattoos on his forearm ripple over his muscles as he plays with the card. We’ve all got tats, although none of us ever got quite as addicted to ink as Knox.
“Everything’s simple to you,” Priest says, ignoring Ash and rolling his eyes. His voice is cold and cutting. He knows Knox well, so the sharpness in his tone isn’t even really directed at him—it’s just how Priest sounds all the time.
Knox shrugs, not bothered by the implication or tone one bit. “Someone fucks with me, I make ’em disappear. Simple,” he says back, drawing out the word with a grin. “You think I’m scared of the fucking Diamond Devils? They’re small fry, and they wouldn’t know what hit ’em if we decided to take them out.”
“Fuck the Diamond Devils for a second,” Priest cuts in. “What about Ivan St. James?”
“What about him?” I ask.
“He’s been undercutting our business, snaking clients from us.”
“How do you know that?”
“Heard it from one of the clients themselves,” Knox answers for him, trading a look with Priest. “I went to go collect on them and they said they were moving on. Don’t worry, I left them a little reminder of why brand loyalty matters.”
“What does that mean?” Ash asks.
Knox just grins, looking even more unhinged than usual. “He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t kill anyone without running it by you guys first. I just made sure he knew it’s bad manners to cheat on your money launderers. Especially with a slimy bitch like Ivan St. James.”
My jaw clenches. Every time someone says that name, it’s like another layer of anger rises in me. I narrow my eyes and take a controlled breath. I fucking hate Ivan St. James, the smug motherfucker. He walks around like he owns the whole damn city, just because he’s head of one of the more powerful mafia organizations that operate here. No one else has been able to take him down a peg, so he just does what he wants, no matter who it fucks over. And apparently, he’s now decided it’s a good idea to fuck with our business.
“Did he say why he went with Ivan?” I ask Knox. “The client?”
He shakes his head. “I asked, too. He just said he felt better with Ivan, which is bullshit because who the fuck would?”
“Good question,” Ash replies. “Do you think Ivan’s giving him a better deal? Or has something on him that made him switch? Blackmail? Threats?”
Knox shrugs. “No clue. But he’d have to have something on everybody who he’s snaking if that’s the case.”
That’s a good point. Most likely he’s just straight undercutting us, stealing clients because he can. I’m tempted to do something about it, to finally put him in his place and teach him a lesson about fucking with us, but in the long run, I know it’s not worth starting a war over. Because that’s what would happen. It would get bloody and ugly, and while Knox would be into that for sure, it’s not something I want to deal with. The three men in this office with me might not be my actual brothers, but they’re the only family I’ve got, and I make it a point to look out for them. To look out for our little organization, keeping the money rolling in and increasing our power in Detroit slowly but steadily.
Priest said it best. We don’t need the extra drama.
“We’ll table the shit with the Diamond Devils for now,” I tell the others, making an executive decision and ending the debate. “And I’ll deal with the St. James issue.”
Knox pouts a little, either because he was excited to keep discussing the guns and the Diamond Devils or because he wants to be the one to deal with St. James, but either way, he nods and stretches, cracking his neck and rolling his broad shoulders.
Priest doesn’t go anywhere, keeping his post on the wall. Out of all of us, he’s the one who seems the most out of place in the club. He’s not the type for drinking or dancing or grinding up on random women in the dark. Whenever he happens to be on the floor, he stands out like a sore thumb, and people usually give him a wide berth, even if they are intrigued by his looks. He’s got a sharp jaw and high cheekbones, and he could probably pass for a model if it weren’t for the dangerous edge that lingers around him at all times.
Ash leaves with me as I head out of the office. We walk partway down the hall together, then split apart. He heads toward the main part of the club with a grin on his face, ready to drink and flirt and get his dick sucked or whatever it is he plans to do. Probably all three, knowing him. The dancers love the attention, and it keeps them working for us and loyal so whatever. He can do what he wants as long as nothing he does fucks up our business. That’s always been the rule.
I don’t feel like being around people, so I leave the back way, stepping out into the alley that runs around the back of the club.
It’s dimly lit by the glow of a streetlamp from the mouth of the alley, and I come out here when I need to clear my head sometimes because it’s usually empty.
Except that’s not the case tonight.
As I let the door close behind me, I turn to see two figures standing farther down the alley, away from the light and shrouded in darkness.
At first, I think it’s just some drunk patrons from the club who’ve ducked outside to grope each other or fuck up against the wall. It wouldn’t be the first time, and if they want to suck each other off by the dumpster, then that’s on them. We already have their cover charge and money they spent buying drinks.
But then I hear the familiar telltale whisper of a gun firing through a silencer, and as I watch, one of the bodies falls.
There’s no question about what just happened.
Oh, fuck no.
Not at my goddamn club. This isn’t the shit that goes down here. Especially not in the fucking alley where anyone could stumble onto the scene and think this has something to do with us. We run illegal businesses out of our club, using it as a front for money laundering and trafficking in illegal goods, but because of that, we keep our legit business squeaky clean.
We don’t give the cops reason to come sniffing around. Ever.
The anger that’s been simmering in my chest since Priest brought up Ivan St. James threatens to bubble over, but I keep a hold on it and move silently and swiftly down the alley, grabbing the person with the gun from behind and dragging them away from the body.
Once I get my arms around her, I can tell it’s a woman from the curves and softness pressed against me, and she’s anything but passive. She fights back, clawing at the arm I have around her waist and twisting in my hold. She fights like a fucking hellcat, breaking out of my grip and whirling around, lashing out at me.
“Let me fucking go,” she snarls, and her voice is husky and furious.
I manage to block her swing, but she has another attack ready, aiming for my dick with her knee. I swing around to try to block that one, too. It’s enough to let her land a blow to the side of my face, a punch strong enough to make my head snap to the side. I recover quickly, and we stagger sideways as we fight with each other, heading out of the darkness and toward the dim light cast by the street light.
I can see it glinting off her silver hair, and damn. She’s sexy as fuck.
The dress she has on hugs her curves, drawing attention to full hips and big tits. There are tattoos on both arms and down her thigh, and when she tries to kick me, the skirt of the dress rides up and shows off the holster strapped to one thigh.
She came prepared for this, and dressed the way she is, no one would have given her a second look unless they were looking at her ass. And it’s a really nice ass. My blood is pumping, and some of it surges down to my dick, reacting to both the way she looks and the way she fights.
The reaction of my body just makes me angrier, because I’m not here to ogle this fucking woman or try to get my dick wet. She just killed someone in the alley behind my club, and I can’t let that stand.
We grapple, fighting for control of the gun, and I manage to overpower her by being taller and bigger than she is, but it’s a near thing. She’s scrappy as fuck in addition to being sexy as hell, and even when I get her back pinned against the rough brick of the building, she doesn’t stop struggling to get away from me.
Her chest heaves while she gasps for breath, and she twists against my hold, snarling curses and trying to lunge for me even with no leverage. A fighter through and through.
I pin one arm to the wall and snatch the gun from her, shoving it up under her chin, which finally gets her to calm the fuck down. There’s still defiance and anger in her dark blue eyes, and she looks at me like if she could kill me with a look, I’d already be on the ground with the first guy she dropped.
My heart is racing from the fight, and I can feel the blood pumping through me as I stare at her, my eyes narrowed.
“What the hell are you doing murdering someone at my fucking club?” I demand, keeping my voice down. “Are you trying to have cops crawling all over the place?”
With the music still blaring from inside, the odds are low that someone will overhear us, but I’m not taking any chances.
She doesn’t answer, staring back at me with those angry dark blue eyes. She has a long, graceful neck and plush lips, which are currently pulled back in something like a snarl.
Our bodies are pressed together, and I can feel all of her curves against me and the heat that’s pouring off her. I hold her gaze and press in even tighter, licking my lips slightly.
“It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful,” I tell her in a low voice. “But I’ll do it if you don’t start talking.”
Still, she just stares at me, not giving any indication that she’s listening or even gives a shit about anything I’m saying.
“Last chance,” I warn her, my voice hardening.
She turns her head and spits on the ground next to my feet, making her choice pretty damn clear.
I shrug and draw back, then draw the hand holding the weapon back in a flash and bring it down heavily, bashing her in the head with the butt of her gun and sending her crumpling to the ground.
When she falls, I take a step back, looking at the two bodies on the ground. Her, unconscious, and the man she killed who isn’t getting up again.
What a fucking mess.
I pull out my phone and text my brothers in our group thread, letting them know we’ve got a problem and to meet me in the alley. I add in an ‘ASAP’ for Ash, just in case he’s busy doing something else.
It only takes a few minutes for them to join me, Knox first and Priest on his heels. Ash is the last to step out the door, still in the process of tucking his dick away. He was probably getting it sucked by one of the cage dancers, knowing him.
They take a look at the bodies and then look back up to me.
“Aw, did you have fun without us?” Knox asks, folding his arms and furrowing his brows. The tattoos crawling up his neck from under the fabric of his shirt look like shadows in the darkness. “That’s not fair.”
“They’re not both dead, are they?” Ash wants to know.
I shake my head. “She killed him,” I tell them, nudging the dead guy with the toe of my boot. “I don’t know why.”
“Why here?” Priest asks, eyes locked on the scene.
“Don’t know that either,” I tell him. “She wasn’t talking, so I knocked her out. She put up a hell of a fight first, though.” I can feel the sting of the shallow scratches where she raked her nails into my skin, trying to claw and get away from me.
“Are we gonna kill her?” Knox asks, staring down at her body. He runs a hand over the scruff on his jaw. “We should wake her up if we are. It’s always better when they know why they’re being killed.”
“Seems like a bad idea to kill her if we don’t know why she’s here in the first place,” Ash puts in.
I nod at that. “Agreed.”
Knox makes a face that’s probably as close as he gets to a pout, and Priest rolls his eyes. We all know how much Knox likes to be able to have his fun without worrying about logistics.
“If she doesn’t talk, then maybe we’ll turn her over to you,” Ash tells him, patting his shoulder.
“She’d better talk,” I say darkly. “We need to know what the fuck she was doing and why she was doing it here. We’re not letting this shit go down at our club.”
The others nod in agreement at that. Whatever else is going on, we have to protect our business. We built it up from nothing into what it is today, and it’s the key to our freedom and independence, to our power in this city.
“Priest, help me get the girl out of here,” I say, giving directions. “Ash, you and Knox deal with him.” I nod at the dead body.
Priest moves around to grab the girl, hauling her up to her feet so she’s slumped over his shoulder, weighing him down.
I move in to help him, holding in an agitated sigh behind my teeth. What a fuck-up of a night this turned into.