Page 29 of Duchess

Either way, we did what we could with what we have, but recently the girls were growing fearful. There were rumors at the Rouge Roulette that the Turks were catching on to our game and that they were asking questions. Particularly about the Royal Harlots. Who we were, what business we had here, and what were we dealing in. With the questions came the threats, and the girls grew fearful every day.

“We’re fucked,” Rhea stated, slumping down into a chair.

“I’m tired of tip-toeing around these sons of bitches. Let’s just take them out.” Demise sighed.

“If only,” Obsidian rolled her eyes and looked at me. “What are you thinking?”

I paused, leaning against my desk and looking down at my feet. “I don’t like it,” I said quietly.

“Your gut feeling is telling you to run, isn’t it?” Rhea asked.

“I don’t run,” I snapped.

“Yeah, we know that.” Rhea agreed, a cynical note in her tone.

“Don’t you think you’ve fucked with him enough. Just take him out already, that way we can move on and get the hell out of this city.” Rhea continued.

“And go where, Rhea?”

“New York. We can expand, get more prospects.”

I let my gaze fall to the floor. She wasn’t wrong. We would never get anywhere constantly watching our backs and hiding.

“Why don’t you contact, Colt?” Obsidian chimed in.

“My brother and the Royal Bastards are off the table. Or do you want Rancid to come after us? If you think my brother has the balls to protect us from that monster, your dead wrong.”

“Rancid? The President?” Demise asked, raising her head from the shot she was pouring.

“That’s right. Why, babe?” We all turned to look at her.

“Nothing. I just heard from a client that Rancid was out. They mentioned some new guy.”

I leaned away from my desk and walked over to her. Placing my hand over her glass, I stopped her from pouring and got her full attention.

“Exactly what did you hear, Demise?”

Demise lifted her eyes to meet mine. “One of my regulars... he said Rancid's being hunted down by the CIA. Word is, he got caught up in trafficking something, or someone, maybe. And that there’s already a new President taking over.”

I stiffened. “A new President?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.” She lifted the glass to her lips. “It was something that sounded like a whiskey, I think.”

My stomach dropped. My voice was barely a whisper. “Jameson?”

She nodded slowly. “That’s it.”

I turned away from her and grabbed my phone off the desk. My fingers trembled only slightly as I texted Colt.

Duchess:We need to talk.

His reply came seconds later.

Colt:You heard?

Duchess:So it’s true?

Colt:Rancid’s not going to survive this.

---