Page 12 of Jameson: Mayhem Makers

Elise was still dancing with Sam and Charlie, already lost in the music. Others were slowly grinding together to the sensual rhythm and obviously not paying attention to anyone around them.

Without trying to think too much about it, I took a step forward, feeling the pull of the music in my chest, and before I knew it, I was moving, my feet following the beat without any real effort.

At first, I stayed on the edge of the dance floor, just swaying, but the music—those slow, sultry notes—pulled me in deeper, and soon, I was spinning and laughing, my worries melting awaywith each passing beat. Gabe was right; no one was watching, no one cared. It wasn’t about being good or perfect—it was about being present.

Gabe came up behind me, placing his hands on my hips and matching my rhythm. The feel of his erection pressed against my ass made my abdomen coil, and I bit my bottom lip, losing myself more in the music and surroundings.

He nibbled my earlobe. “You’re gorgeous when you let yourself go.”

I pushed back against him, and he let out a low growl. “If you keep doing that, we’re going to have to move to one of the booths away from prying eyes.”

I’d never been one for public indecency, but with the alcohol flowing through me and the atmosphere intoxicating me, I wasn’t opposed. “Maybe I want that.”

Elise joined us then, obliviously interrupting our moment. Laughing, she grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Gabe, spinning me around, her face glowing. “This is it, Luz! This is freedom!”

My laughter mixed with Elise’s, and the two of us became one with the music, the night, the city. And for a moment, it didn’t matter who we were or where we came from. It was just two best friends in the heart of New Orleans, dancing our way through a night that would be etched into our memories forever.

The first chapter in the story of my new life.

Gabe and the guys joined us soon after, the five of us filling the dance floor with our own rhythm, our own energy. I felt the weight of the day—of everything I’d left behind—slip away. I was in the moment, fully alive, fully free.

And I never wanted to lose that feeling now that I’d found it.

After digging deeper into Miguel Alvarez for a few days, I went to my dad’s office at the Forsaken’s strip club with everything I’d found that I thought could help us. I knocked on the closed door. “Hey, Dad, I have the info you wanted.”

I heard a woman giggle, then my dad cleared his throat. “Come back in five minutes.”

I chuckled. “That’s all?”

“Get the fuck outta here, Jameson!” my dad retorted gruffly.

Laughing harder, I went to the bar and ordered a beer. As I took a swig, I wondered which one of the girls my dad had in his office this time.

Ever since my mom died, my dad never got serious with anyone else. From what he told us when we were kids, she was a junkie prostitute who he accidentally fell in love with. He’d tried multiple times to get her clean, but the only times she wouldwere when she was pregnant with Raleigh, Dixyn, and me. Once we were born, she’d go back to using shortly after.

My dad acted like my mom’s death wasn’t that hard for him, but I didn’t believe that. She was the only woman he ever loved, and I think he felt like he was a failure because he couldn’t save her. He resolved to never fall in love again so he’d never feel that way again.

Sometimes, I felt bad for him, especially when I was around Dixyn and Bullet. Their kind of love was genuine and made me want what they had. Other times, I felt like he was a genius because he had a revolving door of pussy with no drama.

After I finished my beer, I went back to my dad’s office to find the door open. I knocked again. “I guess the saying is true.”

He arched a brow. “What?”

“Like father, like son. Raleigh only takes a couple of minutes to get off, too.”

He narrowed his dark eyes at me. “What the hell do you want, Jameson? If you came here to bust my balls, you can fuck off.”

Chuckling, I held up the file folder in my hand. “I got the info on Matteo’s brother.” I tossed the file on his desk. “He’s got a wife and five daughters.”

A small grin curved my father’s lips as he opened the folder and started flipping through the papers. “Is that so?”

I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “They live in Miami, but he’s been traveling back and forth to Matteo’s compound; most likely preparing to move now that he’s in charge.”

My dad glanced up at me. “Is he planning to take the family with him?”

“It seems so. But the eldest daughter ran away from the Miami home a few nights ago.”

One of our nomads, Nodin, happened to be in Georgia and took a detour to Miami when I reached out to him about Miguel.

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