Page 3 of Forbidden Deviant Games

The morning comeswith a hell of a lot of coffee. Straight black so that the bitterness wakes my ass up as I drive from downtown Eastpoint to the outer corners where my boss lives.

Some say the rich have a higher value of themselves than other people. It wasn’t until I met Nicholas Carter that I realized that, regardless of whether or not a man is born with money, true wealth comes from their own actions. And Nicholas Carter is a man of only action.

I park my truck in front of one of the half dozen garage doors, looking up at the massive estate. With its pillars and white semi-Venetian accents, it looks like it belongs in a European city rather than the American countryside. Many of the lavishly wealthy flock to the cities, pouring into already made settlements with their money and their hope of being paid attention to.

Not Eastpoint royalty, though. No. Men like Nicholas Carter and their forefathers preferred their own kingdoms. Eastpoint, though small, is set with wealth and opulence. And while the parents of the children that flock here remain in their far away foreign homes and expensive penthouses in larger metropolitan areas, everyone wants a piece of this place. A connection to the men who built their own legacy.

At the far side of the driveway’s end, at the metal hoop hanging over the top of the last door, a familiar boy bounces an orange and black basketball once, twice, three times before he rears back and shoots for the basket.

“Viks!”

I raise my hand and wave as I exit the vehicle, stopping as he snatches the ball out of the air and makes his way towards me.

An easy smile comes to my face as I greet Nicholas’ son. I wait until he gets close, letting my body remain loose and relaxed until he’s no more than a foot away. Only then do I attack. Locking my arm around the boy’s neck, the basketball drops to the ground and Dean shoves back, reaching up and trying to break the hold. I chuckle and turn, easily evading his grasp even as my arm tightens and he curses.

“Fuck! Viks!”

“Your daddy know you got a mouth like that?” I ask, teasingly.

“Fuck you, man!”

“Hmmmm.” I hum in the back of my throat. “What’s Troy been teaching you, huh?” I ask. “You can’t even slip a simple grab like this?”

His hands lock on my wrist and he twists until I wince and release him. Panting, sweaty, and a little red-faced, Dean Carter glares at me for a moment before he rubs a hand over the dark crop of hair at the top of his head and blows out a breath.

“Abel and Brax were gonna meet me out here in a bit,” he says. “You staying?”

I shake my head. “Just here for work, little man,” I reply, stepping past him and reaching up to knuckle the top of his head. He comes up just past my shoulder now, and within the next year or two, he’ll be even taller than me. I let him go and head for the front door. “Keep up with your training, though. Seems like you need it. Next year’s the orientation, don’t forget that.”

Dean curses and snatches up the basketball that rolls towards the edge of the pavement. “You be careful, Viks,” he calls after me. “One of these days, it’ll be me kicking your ass.”

“In your dreams, little man,” I say with a laugh.

I let myself into the Carter mansion and hang a right to the stairs there. I take them two at a time until I reach the second-floor landing and follow the familiar pattern of hallways until I come to Nicholas Carter’s personal at home office.

I knock once and wait until I hear a response from inside before pushing the door inward and stepping into the dark room. Across from the entryway, the two windows that back the boss’s desk are covered in long thick drapes letting very little natural lighting in. The whole place feels stuffy and somber, but I can understand his reluctance to let the light in. He can never be too sure that someone isn’t watching. Even here in what is supposed to be his safe space, Nicholas Carter is still a man with many secrets and many worries.

“What’s the status?”

I straighten before him, letting go of my own thoughts as I recount the night before, giving him every detail of the conversation I had with Andrei, Cain, and Troy. He pauses and lifts his head from the documents he’s got spread out before him. I know before he speaks what he’s going to say.

“I don’t like this situation,” he states. “It’s par for the course in college, I understand. Things like alcohol, marijuana, even a few prescriptions so long as they don’t get out of hand, but Haze is not something I want in this city. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Someone is doing this on purpose,” he states.

I frown. “Dealing Haze on Eastpoint’s campus?” I clarify.

He sits back, steepling his fingers against his chest as his eyes stare down at his desk in contemplation. “Yes,” he answers. “From what we know, Haze is highly addictive. I’ve had my inside guy at Eastpoint Police keep a watch out and he just sent me some rather disturbing news on this.”

“About the drug?” I reply. “Have there been deaths?”

“Three.” A curse threatens to spill out of my throat at that. I scrub a hand down my face. Nicholas’ attention returns to me. “I want it gone, Viks. I want Haze off my fucking streets and out of my fucking city. I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen, but this is your top priority. Forget the club for now; I’ll have Andrei take it over for the time being. I want the entirety of your attention on this.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Track whoever is selling on my fucking turf, Viks.” Nicholas stands and reaches down, clenching his fist into a few of the documents laying there. The sound of tearing paper is like a gunshot in the otherwise silent room. “And get rid of them.”

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