Page 6 of Promiscuous Lies

CHAPTER 4

Dutton

“She didn’t come in?” I ask Paula. She shakes her head and looks anywhere but at me.

I’d shown mercy because Paula had promised me Posie is one of the best, and I can see that from the revenue she brings in on the few nights she does work. The roster states she’s supposed to be in tonight, but there’s been no sign of her yet.

Even after I gave her such a generous tip.

“No, she didn’t,” Paula replies, looking at her feet as she stands in my office.

“Then I’m going to fire her.”

Her head snaps up. “Please, sir, she’s really good.”

“She also doesn’t show up for her shifts, leaving the other girls doing more,” I remind her. “Why do you have such a soft spot for her?”

Paula looks down again as she answers. It’s not like her to go this far for someone. “I like her,” is all she says.She likes her?You shouldn’t give employees a free pass just because you like them. Especially if you want your business to succeed. “And…” She seems hesitant but then meets my eyes and blurts, “Look, she came from a rough part of Boston. She didn’t tell me much, but she made sure before stepping into this line of work that weweren’t associated with any biker gangs, and I think she’s trying to create a better life for herself. I’m sure there’s a good reason she’s not in today, and I want to help her. She just needs a hand.”

A biker gang from Boston?

I wonder if it’s the same one my cousin, Eli Monti, was having issues with a few months ago and is now in negotiations with.

Interesting.

I don’t believe in coincidences, nor do I leave things up to chance.

“You’re dismissed, Paula.”

She seems uncertain whether what she just told me helped Posie’s case. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t care for sob stories, but I’m curious about Posie’s potential connection with the Boston Delinquents.

I call Eli, hoping for once he isn’t balls-deep in his wife and is actually conducting business. It’s only one in the morning, so he should still be working on whatever lucrative deals he’s brokering as the new head of the Italian mafia. His father officially handed him the reins a few months ago.

If Posie is connected to that gang, I don’t want that association to draw ill-fitted patrons to my club. Still, that information might benefit Eli since we’re always cautious about uninvited guests snooping around.

When I’m almost sure he won’t answer, he finally picks up. “Taking your time answering calls, aren’t you?”

I hear a man scream in the background. And then a scream from what sounds like a second person. “Well, considering I’m busy, you’re lucky I answered at all.” In other words, he’s torturing someone. Most likely two by the sounds of it.

“Give me your location. I have some information for you,” I say, removing my jacket and leaving it hanging over my chair. The less clothing I have to get bloody, the better.

“Oh? And what do I need to give you in return for thisinformation?”Eli asks, and I can imagine his raised eyebrow. I smirk because my cousin knows me well.

I have plenty of vendettas in this world. I’m regarded as the proper and perfect son publicly. For anyone who looks deeply enough into my family ties they’d realize my mother is an Italian mafia heiress, and my father runs all matters of sexual fantasy, going to great lengths to keep his empire in the top position.

And then there’s my baby sister, Billie. She’s only a year younger than me, but I’m extremely protective of her because I know what men are like. So I remove them from her life, and it’s turned into a hobby of sorts—clearing out the trash.

“Trea Lissor recently asked my sister to a ball,” I say, business-like.

“The audacity,” Eli replies dryly. “I’ll have Hawke and Ford locate him and bring him in so you can give him a stern talking to.”

“Appreciated,” I say with a sadistic smile. “Oh, and make sure there’s a sharp knife waiting for me.”

I arrive at an abandoned warehouse favored by Eli and his two seconds. Ford and Hawke are tenacious little fuckers. The twins were adopted at fifteen by Anya Ivanov and her husband, River, who civilized the brutes. I don’t know much about them, but they’ve been hanging around us for the last decade, and one thing is certain. No matter what, they have my cousin’s back. And that’s good enough for me.

They’re also very efficient in what they do. Hawke, the one with shorter black hair, is pleased with his handiwork as he ties up a sniffling man who’s still wearing his long PJs and has abag over his head. Ford, the quieter one, is busy on his phone, ignoring the pleas echoing around the empty space.

The fact that there isn’t a second man tied to a chair leads me to believe the other man my cousin was torturing when I called may no longer be with us, and the body is being dumped God knows where and how.

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