Page 23 of Duchess

“It does,” I stated. “The sooner you make the transfer, the faster I can get this shit off my hands and into yours. And Rancid…”

“Yeah, Princess,” he smiled smugly.

“You fuck me over and I’ll come after you personally.”

His deep amused chuckle was the last thing we heard before the screen went black. I sat in silence, my breath tight in my chest. I’d just handed my soul to a devil meaner than the last. Rancid had me in the palm of his hand now, and there was no forgetting it.

“You think he’ll come through?” Obsidian asked worriedly.

Suddenly a ping came in and we both glanced at the screens. Killian’s hacker name popped up. “Nice work ladies. I suggest you check your account.”

Obsidian quickly opened a new window and sure enough, staring back at us was not only twenty million but an additional eleven million dollars. Obsidian almost yelled out, covering her mouth as her eyes danced with glee. She simply stared at me in amazement, grabbing my hand.

“Ho-ly shit,” she whispered.

“So are you gonna come through for us or what, Killian?” I asked.

“Lay low. I need forty-eight hours and I’ll get you both the fuck out of there. Oh and Duchess?”

“Yes.”

“It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

The screen went black and I looked at Obsidian. We needed to disappear. And fast. Because once that product moved, and once the dust settled, the real hunt would begin, and this time, I wouldn’t have Alan or Colt to shield me from these wolves.

Chapter 7

Caleb

My phone buzzed before the sun even had the decency to rise. The voice on the other end sounded nervous as it stuttered.

“S-Sir.”

“You better have something important for me, Ahmat. I don’t have time for your shit.” I grumbled into the phone as I slowly got up from the comfort of my King-sized bed.

Ahmat had been another little weasel that my grandfather had put to follow me. I knew exactly what he was doing, informing my grandfather of all my movements by pretending to be loyal to me. He’d thrown me under the bus a few times, thinking I’d never find out, but I had a loyal few strategically placed in the syndicate. He’d pay sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.

"She led us to the warehouse as you said she would," Ahmad whispered, as if telling me a secret. They all knew better than to deliver a half-truth, which meant what he was saying had to be accurate.

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under the tension coiling inside me. "Was she aware she was being followed?"

"No, sir. She moved like she thought she was in the clear. We kept our distance. No tails were burned."

"Where is she now?"

"A place called Rouge Roulette, in downtown L.A. Some underground strip club. It’s owned by the Hellbound Lovers Motorcycle Club."

The Hellbound Lovers were considered a safe haven for anyone who entered their establishments, which were aplenty in the Los Angeles area. But between them and Death Row Shooters who managed the docks, it had become a burden for the family. The Turks did not like to follow rules and we were constantly having to back down to these damn bikers. But they ran on territories so you fought fire with fire. The Bloody Scorpions had been hired to make sure our shipments and businesses weren’t fucked with. It was a true, bloody nightmare.

“Sir?” I didn't respond. Just let the silence stretch long enough to make the bastard uncomfortable.

“Send me the address.” Then I ended the call and stretched, cracking the tension from my neck.

I made a quick call downstairs to one of the house servants. “Have the driver wait for me out front.”

I changed quickly into a black jumpsuit with a hoodie, grabbed my jacket, and headed down.

The warehouse was buried deep in East L.A., surrounded by miles of nothing. No cameras. No patrol. Just rusted chain-link and industrial silence. When I pulled up, I already felt the tension settling heavy in my gut. The men I sent stood like statues, avoiding my gaze.

---