Page 2 of Pitiful Lies

I am happy right where I am. Doing what I do best. Cracking skulls and putting the fear of God in those who are too stupid to know they shouldn’t fuck with us.

The Vipers are feared and respected. We are the gatekeepers. We control the ports and that means money and power. Never mind the cops, businessmen, and politicians we have in our pockets.

The thing is, when you have assets like that, there’s always some asshole wanting to test you. And with Nico otherwise occupied, it’s on me to make sure no one gets through our defenses.

I’m the Enforcer.

The guys who work under me are all muscle, and they are loyal to the organization. I see to all our security needs, and I make sure anyone needing a lesson gets it.

Luc is the Council.

A bonafide fucking Princeton grad and a lawyer to boot. He handles all the business deals and makes sure our legit side is where it needs to be.

As for my cousin, Nico?

Well, like I said, he’s the undisputed King of the Vipers. That means he does a little bit of everything.

Nico is unhinged in the best possible way. He is cunning and sharp as a tack. I’m proud of the fucker.

I started working with him and Luc when they were just teenagers, and I was barely twenty. A bad batch of heroin sent Nico’s mother and Luc’s sister to their graves far too fucking early.

That skinny brainiac and my hotheaded cousin took on the local dealers themselves and almost wound up dead for their efforts.

That’s where I came in. I started out as an amateur MMA fighter, but I switched from main event type shit to underground matches.

When I got a hold of Nico and Luc, all black and blue from a beating they took, I decided to teach them a thing or two about fighting.

So, at my core, that’s what I am.

A fighter.

The three of us together were harder to defeat than any of the old gangs wanted to admit.

But look at us now.

We are the Vipers.

And no one crosses us and lives to tell the tale.

So, when the king is busy, I watch over the Den. Here I sit, minding the king’s throne and making sure everyone knows who and what we are.

A group of scantily clad women sashays past me, and I give them a once over.

It’s what they want. What they expect. And I am a man who appreciates beauty.

They’re too obvious for my tastes, though. I’m forty-two, not twenty-five. Spandex and stilettos aren’t what I look for in female companionship these days.

But then something, or rather, someone, catches my eye. She’s about five foot four inches tall and about a buck eighty, by my estimation.

That might be large to some guys, but not to me.

I’m six foot six inches tall and I am easily twice the curvy little woman’s weight.

My cock starts to twitch behind my slacks as I take in her purposeful stride.

Little Doll is walking right towards me, I realize and raise my eyes to her face.

Holy fuck.

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