Page 13 of Brake's Intent

“Better late than never.” Brake shrugs and toes his boots off. “I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” he says, climbing into the bed. First, he kisses me and then Lawson before falling onto his back, closing his eyes.

The fact he doesn’t try anything feels like a rejection, but from the dark circles under his eyes, I wonder if he’s slept while he was gone. I want to ask, but within minutes, Brake’s breath evens out, and he passes out.

I look from him to Lawson to see he’s also watching Brake. When his eyes return to me, he leans in and kisses me again. “We’ll talk with him when he wakes up and get this all straightened out. But know this Faye, you’re not goin’ anywhere without either of us. You’re ours.

CHAPTERNINE

LAWSON

“This the building for the club, boss?” Reed, my right-hand man, asks me after joining me inside the newly constructed building.

“Yeah.” I nod, wishing I were back at the clubhouse with Brake and Faye. Unfortunately, I needed to meet with Reed and a few of my other men. Especially considering Reed refused to take his place at the Carolina Double Trouble. Because of his stubbornness, I have to assign one of our trusted men to run it. “What do you think?”

I stare around the building, taking in the main stage in the front and two smaller ones off to the side. It even had a VIP section on the second floor with a balcony looking down at the main floor. The structure of the club is an old warehouse that sits on the river just inside Mississippi. I’d spoken with the DeLancys before making my decision. Louisiana was their territory, and they didn’t have a problem with me taking the other side of the river as long as it stayed in Mississippi. I didn’t mind this, and I stuck my claim on Mississippi, more than willing to expand my business here. Being on the river was an added bonus to what I need to use for it in other areas.

Since the building was an old warehouse, I got it for a very reasonable price, and we’re finishing up remodeling it now so that I can get it decorated. Reed and I will find dancers who are willing to work and aren’t shit at the pole. I have high stipulations when it comes to the women who dance for Double Trouble. One, they need to know what they’re doing. Two, they have to be gorgeous. Men won’t come to watch a rundown woman shaking her ass. They come for the appeal of fantasy, and that’s what I give them. Another of my rules is that none of the staff are to fuck around with drugs or the customers. They’re working to make money.

When it’s done, the place will be dark, with booths running along a wall, tables scattered around, and chairs lining the two smaller stages. The main stage is for my headliners. Those who dance on that stage will have someone collecting their tips for them. They’re not to be touched.

“Looks like it’s still got a ways to go,” Reed says, glancing in my direction.

“That it does, but it should be done and ready for the interior designer to do her thing by the end of the month.”

“Are we still using Daphne?” he asks, his lip curling in disgust. Reed’s never been a fan of Daphne, and the feelings are mutual on her end. However, she’s a damn good designer.

“Of course, we are. Why not?” I question, cocking a brow.

“I don’t know, maybe because you fucked her, and she’s been wanting back in your bed,” Reed explains like I should know this.

“Daphne knew the score when it came to me fuckin’ her. It was one night. That’s all,” I scoff, not about to get into this with him. “Now, who do you suggest we use for Carolina?”

“Change the subject if you want, Lawson, but remember, I told you so when it bites you in the ass where Daphne is concerned. If I were you, I’d go with another interior designer. Cut the bitch loose. We don’t need her,” Reed says. “As for managing Carolina Double Trouble, I suggest we put Blaine in charge with Silas as his second.”

I nod, agreeing with him about Blaine and Silas. The two men were nearly as close as Reed and me. They would make a good pair to be in charge. Blaine not only has a head for numbers, but he’s also got eyes everywhere and is like a shadow in the dark, able to sneak up on a person without them realizing it until it’s too late. Silas is nearly as good, and he’s good with listening and finding information. The man also doesn’t have issues with getting his hands bloody.

“Call them,” I command. “I want them here so I can tell them in person that I’m putting them in charge.” I meet Reed’s gaze and narrow. “As for Daphne. I’m not worried about her. She knows better than to cross me. She knows the score, and if she crosses the line, Daphne knows I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger. You don’t mess with me or mine.”

“Speaking of yours,” Reed smirks, “how are Faye and Brake?”

“Faye’s healing, and Brake got back yesterday. He passed out almost instantly and was still asleep when I left this morning,” I answer. Reed knows everything about me just as I know everything about him. He was with me in Florida, meeting both Brake and Faye. The man knows what those two mean to me and what will happen if something happens to either. I’ll go off on the deep end and make anyone who touches either of them pay. Just as I intend to do to those who hurt Faye. But I also have plans in motion for something more.

“That’s good to hear.” Reed nods. “I’ve had Marques and Darrel looking into Shawna and everyone she’s associated with.”

“They find anything yet?” I ask and pull my phone out, feeling it vibrate in my pocket. I glance at the screen to find a text from Brake or, as I have in my contacts, Jax, and grin.

Jax:Where the fuck are you?

I snort and shake my head at his direct question, but also read between the lines. He didn’t like waking up and finding out I wasn’t there.

Me:Be back soon. Meeting about DT and other things.

I send the reply and lower the phone to find Reed staring at me with a wide-ass grin on his face.

“You gonna tell me what they found?” I cock a brow and ignore the vibration in my hand, letting me know Brake responded. I’ll look at it after we finish here.

“Yeah, seems Shawna’s man, or I should say handler, is none other than Augustus Cervantes,” he announces.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” I grind out.

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