If it were any other friend, I’d send a protective detail with her. But Madison Kate Wittenberg was one of the only people I trusted to actually keep my little sister safe. It helped that she was surrounded by three of the most dangerous bastards in the western states… aside from me and mine, that was. They wouldn’t let a lick of danger touch Seph and my sister was a happier person for that true friendship, so I was happy for her.
“Whatever.” Seph rolled her eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when I wake you up for a ride to school tomorrow.”
I flipped her off, sassy brat, and she blew a kiss back at me. That in itself summed up our dynamic. She was all sweetness, innocence, and light, and I… well, I was a borderline sociopath with more blood on my hands than most convicted serial killers.
For that reason alone, I should steer clear of Lucas. Even if he had been considering a career as a male prostitute, he seemed… innocent.
5
I arrived at Club 22 right at eleven o’clock, knowing full fucking well I’d beat Cass there. More often than not, I turned up late to meetings because it gave me the upper hand. When they had to wait for me, it put me in the position of power. There was never any question about who had the biggest dick in the room, regardless of anatomy.
But this time, I deliberately arrived on time so I could make the Reaper’s leader sweat it out over how bad my temper would be at being made to wait for him.
I breezed through the staff entrance, pushing my dark sunglasses up onto my head and using them to hold my wavy copper hair back from my face.
“Morning, boss!” the bar manager of Club 22 called out as I crossed the club floor toward the door to my office. He was an older guy with a generous streak of gray in his beard, and fast becoming one of my most valuable employees within the bars. He’d been with 22 since it opened and has never done wrong by me or my legitimate company—Copper Wolf.
Some people might assume that just because I also ran the Timberwolves, all my staff were involved in that aspect of business too. They weren’t. As much as possible, I liked to keep my legit businesses exactly what they seemed: Legit. Sure, there were crossovers. There always would be, as my illegal business was conducted on the same premises for the most part.
“Good morning, Rodney,” I replied, deviating over to the bar where he was taking inventory on his liquor. “How was last night? The bachelorette parties all have fun?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed, inclining his head, then tucking his pencil behind his ear. “Cass is waiting in your office for you; he got here about five minutes ago.”
My brows shot up in surprise. Motherfucker must have already been nearby. No wonder he’d been quick to accept a meeting here.
“Thanks, Rodney,” I murmured, then sighed. “Actually, can I get a drink before I head in there?”
He gave me a wry smile but nodded and pulled out a cut-crystal rocks glass for me. “Usual?”
I nodded, but he was already pouring a healthy nip of Writers’ Tears Red Head whiskey into my glass. He dropped two ice cubes in, then handed it over with a smile.
"Buzz when you need another. He looked like he was in a foul fucking mood when I let him in." Rodney jerked his head in the direction of my office, and I shrugged.
"It's Cass; he's permanently grumpy." I took a gulp of my liquor—Dutch courage—then crossed the club to my office.
With my face carefully schooled into the perfect, ice-cold mask of Hades, I shoved the door open with the toe of my shiny black Louboutin pump and made my dramatic entrance.
Cass was used to my shit by now, though. He'd only been in charge of the Reapers for a year and a half, but he'd been Zane's second for years prior to that. Why the fuck he'd been content to second that slimy piece of shit, I'd never know, but suffice it to say Cass had sat through plenty of unpleasant meetings with me and my boys.
He didn't speak as I rounded the desk and hooked my designer handbag over the back of the chair before sitting down. My favorite gun, a Desert Eagle, was not even vaguely concealed in an underarm holster, but just for good measure, I took my blazer off. Underneath I wore just a thin, red silk camisole, black lace bra, and a gun. Sexy dangerous was my whole vibe... especially when I knew I'd be seeing Cass.
I badly needed to get over my crush on him. It was making me look foolish, and that was something I didn't have time for in my day.
"Cassiel, you look like shit," I told him, my voice like cold steel. "Rough night?"
He glared. That was new. No one glared at me. Not if they valued their balls—and their lives.
"You could say that," he rumbled, his ink-covered fingers drumming a pattern on the arm of his chair as he stared. As fast as the glare had come, it'd cooled down to a simple stare, and I was kind of disappointed. He was backing down from this fight, and it made me sigh internally.
Some days I seriously hated the reputation I'd built for myself. It made men afraid of me, which didn't work wonders when a girl just wanted some rough aggression from a lover every now and then.
"Cops were sniffing around Anarchy last night," Cass informed me when I said nothing, giving nothing away. If he thought I was going to address the awkward situation from last night, or the fact that he had a sex tape of Lucas and I, well, he would be waiting a while. I never showed my cards.
Except, of course, when I'd had one too many drinks and made a move on a man who held zero interest for me as a woman. Stupid, stupid mistake. One that would never be repeated.
"Nothing new," I replied, voice ice-cold and clipped. "The police presence in Shadow Grove has been a pain in all our asses ever since that mess at Madison Kate's wedding. Why'd this require a face-to-face meeting?"
Cass let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a frustrated sigh, and he ran a hand over his short beard. I hated beards on guys, but fucking hell, Cass made it look good.
"Because two of my guys got picked up after leaving the fight." There was an edge of accusation in his voice that got my hackles up.
I quirked one brow, my gaze steady. "And that's my problem, how? I allow your boys to sell product in my venues for a cut of profit, but we're not partners, Cassiel. The safety of your low-level street dealers has nothing to do with me."
His glare darkened. "You and I both know the heat is on you right now, Hades. If my boys get picked up, it's an attempt to gather intel on your organization."
If he was trying to piss me off, he was succeeding. Holding his eye contact, I raised my glass and took a sip. Then I licked my scarlet lips and was rewarded by Cass's gaze darting to my mouth ever so quickly.
Then again, he was probably just remembering that awkward-as-fuck kiss from last night when I’d totally misread the situation for the first time in my life.
"They can try all they like, Cass; the Timberwolves are airtight right now. I trust your boys were clean when they were picked up?" Because there was no way in hell they were leaving a fight at Anarchy with excess stock.
Straight up, people in Shadow Grove liked to party. Only an idiot would try to run a clean venue with no drugs; it just wasn't happening. Either I worked with the street gangs to ensure clean products in my venues and got a cut of the profit, or I risked dirty, cut-rate drugs being distributed under my nose.