Page 26 of Malicious Desires

He grips my collar, yanking me closer and practically spitting in my face with his enraged voice, “You will not question my engagements nor speak to me with such insolence, boy!”

I shove a hand against his chest. “Fuck you, father!”

He’s seething again, his throat and face blood red.

“Don’t test me, Reece.”

“Wasn’t doing anything of the sort,” I remark. “I’m just over doing your bidding.”

“Well, son,” he says in a patronising tone, “you know what the consequences of not doing your job would be. No trust fund, no car, and you can kiss university goodbye.”

I shrug, staring him down.

“You going to do the job?” he finally asks when I don’t respond to his threats.

“If I must.”

“Good. You’re to go to the Cassidy Club, and find a man by the name of Ron Roberts.”

I nod. “What’s this fucker done?”

“He assaulted our best girl, and violated the club consent terms.”

“So what am I doing about it?”

“What must be done, Reece. Make him regret the day he stepped into a Montserrat premises.”

Again I nod, feeling giddy about getting to fuck up a filthy man. I’m about to head out the door when I ask, “What girl are we talking about?”

Dad shakes his head, scoffing, and sitting back down in his foreboding leather desk chair. I mumble, “Fine don’t tell me then. Just thought I should know whose virtue I’m defending.”

I open the door, stepping out in the hallway when I hear Dad respond softly, under his breath, “It was Katee.”

And there it is. Katee Martinez may as well be his daughter. They’re oddly close, and he’d do anything to protect her. At one point he’d even made an offer to pay her a wage without her having to work at the club, but she refused. Apparently, she enjoys dancing in skimpy outfits and offering lap dances for extra cash.

From by the door, I grab my gym bag, and head out to the Bugatti, shoving it on the front seat beside me before I speed off towards the club.

* * *

Sliding the Bugatti into a car spot right out the front of the club, I flick the lock and stomp inside. Dad had said to be discreet with this kill, but noticing Bartholomew manning the counter I know that’s not necessary. My cousin knows what I’m forced to do. And he’s no blabbermouth either.

Stepping up to the counter, I greet him, “Barth, my cuz, how’s it hanging?”

He holds up his hand, clasping mine in our usual slapping handshake. “Reece, my cuz. It’s hanging low. Shit’s been happening around here.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He leans forward, saying into my ear, “You hear about Katee?”

“Yeah, getting that fucker is why I’m here,” I mumble, touching my waistband to make sure my gun is tucked in tight.

Barth nods. “He’s right over near the stage. Dickwad with the red mohawk.”

I glance towards the stage where Summer is dancing. The dickhead in question is staring right at her, salivating.

“Thanks, cuz. Got the keys for a private room for me?”

He gives me a wink, telling me, “No need for keys, cuz. I’ve unlocked the private room at the back for you. And left a few goodies for you to play with.”

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