Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Read online

  You must tell Brennan that he promised me. His honor will never let him rest if he breaks that promise—that is the kind of man he is. The kind of man I’m entrusting your safety to.

  Know, my darlings, that I love you all. That you were the joy that made my days. That, without you, my life would have held no meaning.

  I would like to hope that I can watch over you, but if God isn’t so kind, then that might not be something I can do. I pray nightly that I’m wrong, that I’m good enough to enter the kingdom of heaven just so I can see you become the beautiful women you are destined to be.

  I love you. There are no words to express how much.

  Ever yours,

  Mama

  Part Two

  Aidan Jr

  THE SUMMIT

  When the four families who reigned over New York banded together, it meant shit had gone down.

  Not just regular shit, either.

  That was our stock in trade.

  Extortion, thieving, drugs, prostitution, they were our shares. Our commodities. Our products, as it were.

  Every man in this room was wanted by some law agency or another, and with the crimes we’d committed, we’d all be locked up for the rest of our natural lives if we were ever arrested—that was a given.

  What was also a given?

  Not one of the four leaders from the four families—the Irish, the Italians, the Chinese, or the Russians—would ever see the inside of a prison cell.

  They’d never be punished for their sins.

  And considering I was the heir to the Five Points’ throne, I wasn’t about to complain about that. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in a Supermax, jacking off to the sounds of people walking down the corridor outside my cell because that was as much human contact as I was allowed in a twenty-four hour period. Painting the walls with my shit just to have some method of communication.

  Even if the lower ranks did get sent to jail, we worked deals for them. No one ever served what they were supposed to—take the old Don’s heir. That cunt Gianni Fieri had died in prison, but not because of his sentence—he probably wouldn’t have served even an eighth of it if some clever bastard hadn’t broken his neck.

  Until recently, the last few years, at any rate, I’d been quite happy with the status quo.

  Then I’d been shot.

  Then I’d nearly lost my mobility.

  Then I’d become hooked on pain meds.

  As I sat here, around a table with the four most powerful men in the state, their heirs and trusted advisors grouped around them, as we discussed a war that we were fighting on too many fronts, all I could think about was the Oxy.

  It was there, a siren call in my head. A song that made me want to close my eyes to chase away the nausea that plagued me.

  The shakes would come soon, the nausea shortly after. Sometimes, they mixed themselves up, and I’d find myself puking as I shook like I was having a seizure. Then I’d take a pill, and everything, all my worries, would disappear.

  But this morning, I had to focus.

  Especially when Rex, the Prez of the Satan’s Sinners’ MC, stormed into the warehouse where we were gathered, raised his guns and took his shots. It was like something from Kill Bill, only Rex wasn’t wearing a yellow catsuit.

  His slaying of the Italian fuckers wasn’t a part of the official program, but the Irish were the only ones who knew to anticipate Rex’s arrival. We’d planned it.

  The Italians had to suffer.

  They had to be made to pay.

  Their Don was dead thanks to my youngest brother.

  Now his successors were dead, his consigliere too.

  As I smiled at the bloodshed before me, satisfaction filling me at the sweet taste of vengeance which definitely was better when hot, I concealed my hands, which were starting to tremble, and for a while, I lost myself to the biting need to pop another Oxy.

  The bodies were dragged away by two guys from the Chinese camp, and Rex took a seat after my father explained why he’d helped our ally infiltrate the Summit, sacred territory according to our unwritten laws, and why he’d allowed him to shoot the men from the Italian contingent. I managed to make a few comments, but I was well aware that I was wading deeper into the mire of the Oxy’s call.

  Because the Italians were mutually loathed by the Chinese, the Irish, and the Russians, there wasn’t much concern about their brutal murder or the man who’d done the murdering. Business quickly took center stage, and it was then the New World Sparrows found themselves under the spotlight. And though the need was painful, I knew I had to focus, knew I was too weak to endure the siren song of the opioids that were taking over my life.

  My attention here was imperative.

  The New World Sparrows, or NWS as we’d started calling them, were our biggest threat.

  So, I caved in.

  I slipped a pill out of the bottle, carefully tumbling the round tablet onto my palm with as little noise as possible as my beads of poison rattled against each other, then I drew it into the nook of my fingers. Pretending I was covering my mouth, I slipped it between my lips and swallowed it dry.

  The nausea soon went away.

  The shakes stopped.

  My brain cleared up shortly after, and I managed to tune in properly.

  “What kind of group is this? One that exists in the shadows and uses criminals they’ve blackmailed to do their dirty work?” Vasov, the Russian leader, sneered. “This sounds like a children’s story. You’re making it up.”

  Rex pressed his elbows to the table and retorted, “You can think what you want, Vasov, but they’re real. They’ve existed for far too fucking long, managing to escape our attention. Now we know about them, we can work on eradicating them.”

  Vasov mocked, “I’m the king of cocaine on this godforsaken island, I don’t need to do shit. I’d just bet that you want us to waste our resources on hunting down this fairy story so you can grab—”

  “You’re a moron, Vasov,” Zhao, the Dragon Head of the Triads, snarled, not letting the Bratva Pakhan finish. “You just proved how out of touch you are. Cocaine isn’t king in Manhattan anymore. Hell, it isn’t king in New York.” His lips twisted. “Heroin is the new emperor.” His eyes narrowed, his smugness overpowering thanks to the strong poppy routes he’d spent decades cultivating. “And long may it reign.”

  Vasov slammed his hand against the table, his outrage clear, and when he surged to his feet, I was the only one who could possibly understand the agony he endured when he realized, too late, that he’d forgotten.

  My patella had been shattered, my other leg hit too, muscles torn and shredded, bones in my femur forever damaged like it had been under a butcher’s knife.

  His kneecaps, on the other hand, had been decimated by a sniper’s bullets.

  The sharp cry of pain had me wincing, while the rest of the men, my father included, looked upon him with feigned disinterest.

  Did he but know it, Vasov had just shown weakness amid this pool of sharks.

  They’d scented blood, and now they were going to be out to get him.

  Prick.

  Rex, however, had different priorities than territory that had nothing to do with him. He was based in New Jersey, the lucky bastard, and had no jurisdiction in our city. The only reason he was here was because when Declan had explained the particulars to Da, in Da’s eyes, the man’s cause was a worthy one.

  A good son, Aidan Sr. had declared, should and would kill to avenge his mother’s honor.

  And that was why Rex had the blood of three men on his hands.

  Because my da had allowed it.

  Wasn’t he kind-hearted?

  “You’re not getting the bigger picture here. I’ve got my people looking into this group, but I’m telling you, they’re more dangerous than you want to think.”

  I cast my father a look, felt Finn, my best friend, tense up at my back, because we knew he was right.

  We were the ones who’d recently been affe
cted by these NWS cunts, we’d been touched by them, and had almost lost my nephew and sister-in-law as a result.

  We knew they were a shadowy organization that worked amid the Alphabet agencies—at least, that was what we’d come to believe. For all we knew, they were everywhere. In the jails, in the courts, in the churches. Wherever corruption ran rife in this city, hell, this country, they were probably there. Nibbling away at the foundations of democracy while pretending they were its face.

  Fucking bureaucrats—couldn’t trust any of the cunts.

  My mouth twisted into a sneer at the thought before I asked, “How do we eradicate them?”

  “We have to find them first,” Rex pointed out. “We need to band together to do that.” He peered over his shoulder at the fresh dead who were bleeding out onto the warehouse floor. “All I do know? The Famiglia was their front. You can’t trust any of the Italians.”

  “Like we didn’t know that anyway,” Zhao said wryly.

  Rex shook his head. “You wanna watch your ties as well, Zhao.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The Triad leader’s eyes narrowed at the Prez, and his advisors started cracking their knuckles.

  Because, yes, that would terrify the leader of the Satan’s Sinners’ MC. Jesus Christ.

  “It means that Triads in China have trafficking links to some of the Famiglia’s subsidiaries…”

  Zhao’s frown darkened. “I know nothing of this.”

  “A hacker friend of mine made the discovery. Don’t believe me, then gimme your email and I’ll send proof over.”

  “Can we get back on track?” Da snapped, his disinterest in this topic clear. “The Sparrows are our biggest threat right now.”

  “Yes, and you’ve just taken off their head,” Vasov rasped, sounding winded and looking like death from his recent attempt at standing, “which means they’re going to take note.”

  “We’ve drawn them out of the shadows,” Da concurred, gleefully rubbing his hands together like he’d just decided we were all going on a vacation to the mountains. “Let the fun and games begin...”

  They might hate me now, but my sisters need me.

  Three

  Cammie

  “Where are you going?”

  I turned to my baby sister, Victoria, who was scowling at me from the doorway.

  My bedroom was a thousand shades of puke—I meant, pink—as if Bratva princesses could only like this color—and once upon a time, I’d fit in here.

  Exactly like Victoria did.

  She’d just turned fifteen but looked like some kind of bizarre politician’s wife in a gray pencil skirt with a neatly tucked in pink shirt and pearls around her throat.

  Pearls.

  She was either a First Lady-in-the-making or an upper class secretary.

  Who bought her clothes now that Mama was gone, I had no idea. I couldn’t see that slut, Svetlana, our new stepmother, going into the kinds of stores that stocked outfits such as this one. She dressed like a stripper who’d landed on her stacked heels in a pile of money.

  A part of me wondered how she’d managed to snag my father who was notoriously marriage-shy after Mama’s death, but then, I really didn’t want to know how she’d hooked the biggest whale of them all.

  Shuddering at the thought, I dropped my gaze from the vanity mirror and twisted around to look at Victoria and not her reflection.

  Her concern was clear.

  It was also warranted.

  Just not today...

  I wafted a hand down my outfit. “Can’t you tell?”

  She frowned. “You’re coming back, aren’t you?”

  As if he’d let me run... I didn’t say that though. Just smiled at her. “Of course. I’m only going for a ride. If I don’t get out of this house, I’ll scream.”

  Her nose crinkled in a way that told me she agreed. One hundred percent. But was too scared to admit it out loud.

  That was the kind of household this was.

  We were scared.

  All the time.

  From the outside looking in, the Vasovs were industrial tycoons.

  But from the inside?

  We were Bratva.

  Scum.

  Dangerous and endangered.

  Living our lives on the knife’s edge, never knowing if today was our day to die.

  Once upon a time, I’d thought it was only the men who had to subsist like that. One foot in the grave and the other foot in a jail cell, but it wasn’t just them.

  Victoria and I would never go to prison, at least, not for the Brotherhood’s crimes, but death could come to us at any moment.

  Just like Mama.

  Raped and slain in her own house.

  Fuck, I hated this property.

  I’d never understood how, when my father proclaimed to love her so much, he could stay here. Had never understood how he allowed his daughters to remain in the residence where such tragedy had happened...

  It was one of the many reasons I loathed him.

  Why, one day, if he wasn’t careful, I’d be the one to eliminate him as easily as it was hitting backspace on a keyboard.

  Palms growing sweaty with a cocktail of nerves and wishful thinking that it’d be so easy to get rid of him when it was anything but, I reached up and tugged on the star pendant I’d purloined from my father’s safe when I’d stolen one of my mother’s necklaces for my sister, Inessa.

  “What’s that?” Victoria asked, stepping into my dressing room and not stopping until she could lean over and peer at the pendant. “I remember it. Just not...” Her brow puckered. “I don’t know where I remember it from.”

  Of course she would.

  She’d been a toddler when Mama died. Would have remembered the tiny star as Mama put her to sleep or played with her.

  But I didn’t tell her that, nor the thought processes that had led me to a conclusion that was beyond unpalatable.

  “It’s something I bought myself the other day. Isn’t it pretty?”

  Victoria’s frown only deepened. “Did Mama wear something like that?”

  “I don’t remember,” I lied, and I reached for her hand and tugged on it. “Come riding with me?” I asked, by way of a distraction.

  Victoria was not the world’s most natural equestrian. If anything, she was terrified of horses, and they sensed that fear like they were starving predators, not man’s best friend.

  And yes, horses were so much more man’s best friend than dogs.

  Horses were life.

  As expected, she staggered back, slipping on this morning’s edition of the New York Times, her fingers forming the sign of the cross like I needed exorcising. I grinned at her as she scampered away without another word.

  I sucked in a relieved breath for her questions to have scampered away too, then leaned over to grab the paper. I’d already done this morning’s crossword which was why it was on the floor, but I could imagine me slipping on it next.

  The last thing I needed was a concussion because I’d banged my head on the bed frame—that would be just my luck. I’d end up married off to my worst enemy while I was unconscious or something. Father was, after all, an opportunist.

  Shuddering at the thought, I turned to face myself in the mirror.

  My appearance wasn’t satisfactory, but then, it never was.

  Even after I’d had surgery, and my tits were bigger than before, I wasn’t happy with them. I still felt flat-chested, and I knew that I probably always would feel that way. Just like I’d never feel pretty. Just like I knew I could get addicted to surgery, to make-up, to everything that was false in an effort to shore up a self-esteem that had been dumped in the Hudson years ago.

  The only thing that had saved me from getting addicted to going under the knife was my empty bank account. I’d hoarded every cent to get the money together, and when I’d found myself in dire straits later on, I’d regretted how much money I’d wasted on my appearance.

  With or without them, everyone else might lo
ok at me and see an ice princess, delicate features, a pretty face, long, silken blonde hair, and a body that would make a pin-up envious, but I saw...

  I swallowed.

  A hag.

  A walking vagina.

  A womb that my father had repeatedly tried to sell.

  My mouth tightened at the thought, my palms stinging as I dug the tips of my nails into the ragged flesh there, and I looked away from the mirror.

  I’d had compliments about my appearance, and I knew they were true. When I’d found sanctuary in West Orange, at the Satan’s Sinners’ MC compound, the only territory I knew my father would never dare infiltrate, the only place that, in his eyes, would truly sully me, I’d been popular. So popular that it had scared me.

  I’d been a virgin when I went there.

  Nyx, the club’s Enforcer, had actually popped my cherry without even realizing it. He’d also popped my heart, because I’d loved him for nearly as long as I’d been at the compound. When he’d told me that no other brother was allowed to have me, I’d thought he was claiming me.

  I was wrong.

  He hadn’t made me his Old Lady, just his slut.

  Turning me into a walking vagina once more, except this time, I was less of a commodity without my hymen.

  After he’d claimed Giulia as his Old Lady, and I was no longer under his protection, everything had changed. His brothers got the go ahead to have me when he was done with me, which had about broken me, and I’d ended up giving Sin a blowjob to get him away from me.

  When I hadn’t been able to put out, I’d known my time at the club was over. Then with Dog, I’d outright rejected his advances. When he’d punched me in the stomach as punishment, he’d just fast forwarded things.

  I was back home.

  Back where I never thought I’d be again, and I was only welcomed because Father had almost died. I wished he had. Wished we’d buried him, then, maybe, we’d be free.

  The desire to reach into my vanity to unveil my box of freedom was a strong one. To lift that lid, to stare at the gleaming metal, to sink it into flesh and to let my pain and anger run free with my blood, but I was going to the stables today.