Risqué by Elena M. Reyes

32

Seventy-two hours ago…

“Are you sure, Ezra?” I ask, reading the urgent email he sent me fifteen minutes ago. I’m still in the underground parking lot of the hotel where Casper and Aurora are staying; she knows where he stands, what he’s offering, and Miss Cancio accepted with grace and a few terms of her own.

Did I give them shit? Yes.

But the woman has a quick wit, sassiness that reminds me of Aliana, and put me—and all the Jameson men—in our place. She’ll do bloody well. Keep Casper on his toes.

“Boss, I’m sure.” The clicking of a keyboard is heard in the background, several alerts pinging in different tones and ranges in volume. “The man’s real name is Santis Gaspar and he’s the youngest son of Cornelio Gaspar who’s currently in ADX Florence serving a two-hundred-year sentence.”

“Someone threw the book at the cunt.” I’m going through each document with everything from passports, real and fake ID’s, and then family photos dating as far back as the arseholes first birthday to as recent as a month ago.

“They did. Wanker’s arrest was over tax evasion, but while inside, they pinned everything the city of Chicago could within the statute of limitations, from money laundering to the killing of two CPD officers, and then the added charge of distribution of heroin. This came on the heels of Governor Ruben’s election. His prosecution of a known drug trafficker made him a man of the people and a champion for the city.”

“And now they’re getting paybacks from Rubens.”

“Yes.” Another email comes in and I open it, my ire growing the more I stare at the photo of Rubens celebrating with Gaspar and Martin. The date is from a few days after Aliana delivered the fucking statue and walked out shaking.

I’ve let this go on long enough.

I’m going to break each skull with that blasted fucking artifact.

An artifact I bought and will be getting a full refund for very soon.

“Does Casper know about Santis? Does Cancio know he has a rat in his organization?”

“No. I’m preparing the docs for Casper now.”

“Send them to me and I’ll forward it in the morning. He’s busy at the moment.”

“Will do.” He doesn’t say anything else, and I almost disconnect when he clears his throat. “There’s one more thing, Callum. I was going to explain this to Casper, but you need to know as well. Santis has gone missing, two days now, and from my investigation into every soldier in that organization, he’s close to Dominic.”

“As in Cancio’s right hand?”

“Correct.” There’s no bond with any of the other men, no drinking a pint after work or socializing. He talks to Dominic and no one else, the latter of which hired and promoted him to his current rank as head bodyguard for Aurora’s father.”

“Does he know them?”

“He’s shown interest in one.”

“Which one?” I grit my teeth, knowing the answer already. Dominic wants Aurora, and that leaves my Venus. “Who’s your informant?”

“Pierro, sir. He’s Cancio’s driver, and both women like him.”

“And?”

“And he’s confirmed that Santis makes Aliana uncomfortable.”

“Thank you.” Tossing my mobile on the seat next to me, I back out of the parking spot and then garage, taking a sharp turn and driving straight until I reach the interstate. “I fucking warned them.”

The strip clubis empty tonight, no cars outside of three that occupy the spaces closest to the front door, and I park in front of it.

I have no backup with me. It won’t be needed, and after grabbing my Ruger and extra magazine from the glove compartment, I put the latter inside of my trouser pocket.

I’m calm as I exit my vehicle and walk up to the door; a solid kick and it slams open, the wood damaging the plaster. Two men rush forward then, hands on their weapons, and they’re dead before either can fully react.

A bullet to one head, the other to the neck.

“What the fuck is…Callum?” Flavio Gaspar’s imbecilic second-in-command pales, his body moving backward. Probably remembering the damage inflicted the last time we met. “We didn’t know you were in town. Flavio would’ve… son of a bitch!” His gun now lays on the dirty ground while blood drips from the wound on his wrist. “Why the hostility,” he grits out, eyes darting behind him. There’s movement back there, more than one person. “Let’s talk this out. Whatever you’re here for—”

“Open the curtain.”

“This isn’t a good time.”

“You sure?” At his nod, I shoot him two more times. Thigh and shoulder; he’ll bleed but won’t die yet. “Is that still your answer?”

“No.”

“Good boy.” I point at the curtain. “Open it.”

Whimpering, he does as I ask. The sound is pathetic, almost comical, but what I find as he pushes the fabric aside infuriates me. There are five women, no older than twenty and naked, some with a few bruises on their faces.

These are not their dancers from the other night.

With how they’re being treated, I’d say forced prostitution, and I can’t allow that.

“You sick fuck,” I snarl, biting back my action for a moment when some of the girls scream in fear. Exhaling roughly, I lower my gun and then face them. “Grab your clothes, get dressed, and head outside. Please wait for me. My family will help you with whatever you may need.”

“Why are you doing this?” One of them, a short blonde, asks. She’s shaking. Her left eye is almost swollen shut. “We were tricked like this once before.”

Before? The bloody fuck?

“How long have you been held against your will?”

“A month,” she says, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up, Jenna, or I’ll—” The twat doesn’t get to finish, not when the next bullet enters and exits through his hip. I’m sure the bone shattering has something to do with his scream of pain and the way he crumbles to the ground like a broken puppet.

“Threaten them again, and the next one will be on the tiny prick you try to pass for a cock.”

“Callum, we can talk this out,” he gasps, pain radiating across his features.

“No.” Pulling out my mobile, I text Lindsey and Kray. They’re off, but together, and I need them here fast.

Situation with women held against their will. Going to need help with clean up and delivery to the Conte House. 3 dead and 5 innocents. ~ Callum J.

Kray is the first to respond.

Where? Medical attention? ~Kray

Gaspar strip club, and basic. They seem roughed up and are untrusting; I need Lindsey here to gain their trust. ~Callum J.

Flavio’s right-hand man drags himself toward the blonde, more than likely seeking to use her as cover, but I walk over and place my boot on his chest. Press down hard enough that it hurts, and his wounds bleed profusely.

A text comes in, and I look down at my mobile.

Fifteen minutes from there now. OMW ~Kray

“I have someone coming that will help you,” I keep my voice low and unthreatening. They still cower back, and I don’t blame them. God knows what these arseholes have done to them. “Lindsey works for the Conte House—”

“I know that place.” A brunette, tall and gangly, steps forward. “They helped my sister escape an abusive husband. You know them?”

“My girlfriend works there. Her name is Aliana.”

“She’s not your girlfriend. She belongs to…” You can’t understand garbled speech when the person is choking on his own teeth.

“Aliana, I know her! She teaches and helps in the office.”

“That’s her.”

“I trust you. Where do we go?”

“Grab clothes, yours or not, and cover up. They’ll be here to help you soon.” When she steps forward to go, the others follow with a look of pure relief but before they exit, I ask for a final favor. “Do not leave, but keep out of this area. Wait in the dressing room with the door locked if that makes you feel better, but stay away. This is a conversation you do not need to witness. Understood?”

“Yes,” they answer in unison.

Before the last girl closes the door to the dancer’s dressing room, I turn and meet the scared eyes of a man who has a few minutes left to live at best. “You want to know what the saddest part for you is?” He tries to answer my question, but instead spits out blood with fragments of teeth. His lips and gums are a bloody mess, the cuts very deep. “Don’t hurt yourself, lad. I couldn’t give a flying fuck if you want to know either way.”

“P-please.” Pathetic.

“I warned your boss. I made my demands very clear.”

Another cough, his face etched with pain. “Don’t.”

“Flavio didn’t listen, he didn’t stay away from her, and now I’m going to show him just how deep my reach goes.”

“Callum—”

“You’re a lackey with no real worth. I’m going to kill you, and I still don’t even know your name.” Standing over him, I aim my gun at his head and empty every last bullet in the clip and then exchange the empty one for the full one. His head is unrecognizable, what’s left is disgusting, and yet I empty that magazine in him too.

A real man doesn’t hurt or force a woman. A real man doesn’t follow a weak leader.

There’s silence as I walk out of the strip club, spliff in hand and a cloud of weed smoke behind me. I’m a mess, and those women inside have seen enough horror to last a lifetime.

Kray and Lindsey pull up a few minutes later. They take one look at me and share an amused look.

“Disposal or a delivery?” Kray walks to the boot of his car, finger on the key fob.

“Freeze him. This is personal.” I take in a deep drag and hold it, before letting the smoke exit through my nose. “As my second, you’re going to need more men with you. Assert yourself.”

He takes it for what it is. That was his interview and promotion. “Done.”

“And the women?” Lindsey has some first-aid items in hand. “What of them?”

“Whatever they need, make it happen. I’ll assume the cost.” Pointing at one of the water bottles, she tosses it, and I catch. “There’s another stop I need to make tonight before going back to Aliana’s. There’s a rat, and I’m going to find him.”

“Need help?” Kray offers.

“Not for this one.”

Forty-eight hours ago…

We’ve gone from Miami to Chicago and now Vegas in less than twenty-four hours, and a few things are weighing heavy on my mind:

I didn’t find Santis.

I didn’t see this attack coming.

I didn’t have time to call Aliana.

The latter one stings the worst. I’m not trying to ghost her, to avoid her, but right now Casper needs me, and I will do whatever it takes to help him save Aurora. For him. For my Venus.

Aurora is her best friend, and she has to be worried sick.

How could her father not realize his right hand’s intentions? His lack of background checks on the people he employs is concerning. Lazy, if I’m being honest.

“I’ll be home soon, love,” I whisper lowly, not that anyone can hear as I shoot the lock and then kick the doors to the run-down wedding chapel open. They slam against the wall, yet no movement comes from the inside. Quietly, we make our way in, Casper at the front, and he pauses when the view of an older gentleman playing the organ comes into our line of sight.

There are people inside, some drinking cheap stout while others watch as if this were one of the soaps my aunt loved to watch when we were lads.

A woman begins to walk down the aisle, all but dragging Aurora behind her, and I want to shoot the cunt. This is her stepmother; a cow of a woman with no heart or conscience.

“Don’t do this, Samantha. Let me go!”

“Shut the fuck up, brat. I should’ve had you disposed of years ago.”

None of the people watching do a thing.

They will now.

Casper raises his gun and shoots the man pretending to be a preacher. He falls to the ground, a puddle of blood around him, and they all scatter like insects. They don’t get far, and I take great pleasure in watching bullets descend on the crowd of nobodies as we pick them off one by one.

It almost reminds me of a video game I used to play in my teenage years.

To my right, the De Leon brothers take care of the organ player and the lady with fake flowers, while I shoot a tweaker in the neck. They came with us from Miami no questions asked, and I trust both with my life. Bodies fall all around me, blood staining my clothes, but it’s one particular son of a bitch that catches my attention.

Amid chaos, Santis Gaspar tries to sneak out of the room. Fucking twat. This is where he’s been hiding.

I don’t aim to kill. Not this time.

Instead, I fire low, shattering both kneecaps and causing the arse to tumble. His head smashes into a tall mirror, and his body sags. He’s knocked out cold, unmoving, and when Thiago raises his gun beside me to finish the job, I shake my head.

“He’s mine.” Yet I don’t fire again. Instead, I plan. My mind goes through ways to get him back to Chicago for the time being, until I’m ready to deal with him.

“Did you forget how to shoot?”

“Oi, that’s insulting.” I chuckle, killing a man just to the left of Aurora’s stepmum. “His is a long-term care treatment, and I need to fly his live body out of Vegas.”

The man scratches his jaw, pursing his lips. “If you pick him up in Miami, I’ll take him outside now and dump him in a trunk?”

“I owe you.”

“Family never owes.” He walks away then, and I turn my attention back to the old cunt now screaming, crying over someone who’s dead on the floor while the idiot holding Aurora backs himself into a corner. They know they’re fucked, and I watch, amused, when that moment of clarity hits.

Aurora’s mother takes off running in a ridiculous pair of high heels, and the act alone is almost insulting. Almost, because the moment Ivan De Leon goes after her, she teeters.

A few stragglers attempt to crawl away, and while the others are occupied, I make quick work of those groaning while covering Thiago, who drags an unconscious Santis out the door. If Casper saw him, I’ll explain later, but right now the son of a bitch is too valuable to kill.

The last body still twitching is that of a heavier set man who’d been drinking from a paper bag. Three bullets to the chest, and he’s still complaining; one bullet to the head ends that. Then, those inside turn to watch my cousin as he walks toward his Gem and a shitting himself Dominic.

“Let her go.”

“I’ll kill her.”

“No, you won’t.” His eyes meet Aurora’s, and the bloody tosser smiles at his woman. “Close your eyes and walk toward the sound of my voice, sweetheart. Trust me, baby. Nothing will happen to you.”

“He’s got a gun to my back,” she says lowly. A tremble to her voice.

“He’ll die before a single bullet dislodges from his gun. They will all make sure of that.”

“I’m right here, you piece of shit.”

“Nico!” Samantha’s screech fills the room; she’s fighting Ivan’s tight grip. He all but drags her back, clothes ripped and one shoe missing. “Baby, help!”

“Mom!” Dominic yells out, pulling the gun away from Aurora. Big mistake, because a second later, Aurora ducks just as we raise our guns and empty what’s left bullet wise in his torso.

His body jolts with the onslaught, blood splattering across the room. He’s lifeless when he hits the ground, disfigured and with a wailing mum as the only being to mourn him.

A woman who will spend the rest of her life replaying that image as a penance.

Dominic broke a sacred rule in our business: loyalty above all. You don’t turn on the organization, your boss, and his family.

Aurora is in Casper’s arms before I look over, talking to him lowly while the rest of us walk out and give them a moment. They’ll come out when ready, and we’ll burn the place down to the ground with the bodies inside. Fuck them all.

Thiago meets my gaze when I walk over to the car, and I accept a towel Ivan’s holding out. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’ll be heading back right away. I have my own woman to reclaim.”

“If she lets you,” his brother teases, but Thiago doesn’t fall for the bait. His story with Luna is a bit complicated, but that’s a mess of his own doing.

“I’ll be by soon for a pickup. We’ll be in touch.”

“Dale, I got you.” Thiago gives me a hug first and then Ivan, both standing back when my cousin and his girl walk out. They’re smiling. Happy. And I find myself in a rush to head back to Chicago for the sweet girl I left behind.

To explain. To ask for forgiveness.

Not talking to her isn’t something I can do again.

Not even for an emergency.

Current…

I knock on her door and wait. Not that it takes long as the padding of her feet rushing toward me is heard through the thick wood a few seconds before the object of my adoration all but yanks the door open.

Then she’s there, and I’m breathing again, exhaling roughly as the heaviness of the last few days hits me in the chest.

One second, she’s looking at me through teary eyes, a fist raised to her mouth, and in the next, my arms are full of my sweet girl. Aliana’s shaking, her tears gutting me, but I understand she needs to let this out. It’s been a rough few days.

“Is she?”

“Safe with Casper and very happy at the moment.”

“Oh, thank God!”

“Please stop crying, sweetheart. It cuts to see you like this.”