Page 18 of Wounded Wing

“I’ve summoned a meeting with Atticus. Lex is cashing in his favor with Lai, so I agreed to set the plans in motion,” Ren clips.

“Tread carefully, brother. You know how important that favor is to Lex,” I advise, “She’s already in bad shape. If this plan goes sideways, she will pay the price.”

His silence is unnerving, making my skin itch. There’s a reason we put Ren in charge of our business affairs. His international success rate far exceeds the average and he always stacks the deck in his favor. Ren Kudo takes no prisoners.

“I’ll do what I have to do. What’s your deal with her?” he questions.

If only you knew, brother.

“Just tread carefully, and Ren?” he hums an acknowledgment, “Get the fucking deal. I want this now more than ever,” I hiss.

God have mercy on Atticus Lennon, ‘cause I sure won’t.

I end the call with a harsh swipe before glancing over towards Ricky, who anxiously types away on his phone. I can manage two guesses as to who he’s informing about today’s events.

“Let’s get outta here,pequeño ladrón.”

Chapter twelve

“Mr. Kudo, we havearrived at your destination,” the nameless chauffeur announces, pulling my Rolls-Royce into Le Papillon’s parking lot.

I brush an invisible piece of lint from my navy suit jacket as the driver exits the vehicle. His footsteps scuff along the concrete, approaching my door. With a creak, the door jars open, beckoning my exit. The muggy, Louisiana air hits my face, making me regret wearing a three piece suit so close to summer. Sweat beads along theshaved sides of my hairline as I step out from the air-conditioned comfort of my luxury car.

A low rumbling of an engine catches my attention as my target for the afternoon speeds into the parking lot, dragging a cloud of dirt behind him. Atticus Lennon sits behind the wheel, his fingers gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Catching people off guard is a hobby at this point. I enjoy watching how each person reacts to the pressure of an impromptu meeting with me. Setting my jaw, I walk towards his car, ready to begin my proposal. He throws his door open with a force that begs for the hinges to crack as he steps out into the light, appearing no worse for the wear.

Pity.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long, Kudo,” he drawls.

I dip my head in acknowledgement. “Not at all, my friend. Let’s head inside before talking business.”

Dim, neon lights flicker through the club as a low melody plays from the littering of speakers throughout the building. Le Papillon’s atmosphere never changes, I admire that about Atticus. No matter the time of day, clients are transported to another dimension here. I follow along with his easy pace through the foyer, watching as each staff member fawns over him. Men and women alike are showingenough skin to be tantalizing, but yet classy enough to not be questionable. I had to hand it to him; Atticus Lennon made himself a small empire and ran it smoother than I anticipated.

A woman with flowing, blonde hair catches my attention as she pushes her way through the small crowd. Her button nose is scrunched, making me think she smelled something horrible. She taps a neon pink nail on Atticus’ shoulder, gathering his attention.

“Where is your wife?” she asks. “We are short dancers and Mae hasn’t been on the schedule in two weeks.” Her bottom lip turns outward in a pout.

Atticus pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly not wanting to deal with the woman. “She will be back this week, Stevie. Go grab one of the third floor girls,” he snaps, effectively dismissing her.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder before turning on her pink high heels, muttering something under her breath that sounds an awful lot like, ‘I can see why she fucks other guys’.

As the masses dissipate, we continue our walk through the halls. He leads us to a large, oak door that sits the furthest away from the major areas of the club. His large, pale hand stretches to the brass knob, turning it slowly.

“This is my main office, more private than the one in the club,” he says.

I detect a subtle hint of smugness infecting his tone.

Dick.

My eyes canvas the lavish room. Matte, black on black with flourishes of brass and silver greet me. It’s a fitting style for Atticus Lennon. Classy, yet only someone like him could pull it off.Somehow, that makes me like him even less. With his approval, I step through the threshold. I inhale deeply, taking in the scent of leather, citrus polish, and the heady aroma of debauchery flooding my senses. There’s a carnal desire that lives and breathes in this room; the perfect place to let one’s inhibitions go.

Clinking glasses disrupts my curious perusal as Atticus stands casually behind his office bar, holding two glasses of amber liquid.

Let the games begin.

“Tell me, Ren. May I call you that?“ I nod my head briskly. “Perfect. Then tell me, Ren, what do you have to offer me?” he asks.

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