“What if it’s her kid?” Tony grunts, puffing his chest out.
“Then she really doesn’t want to be there.” Roberto cackles. A chorus of chuckles sound, echoing through the hollow building.
I blow into my hands to warm them up, ready to get this over with so I can return home and shower. Figure out what Freya’s doing back and how fast I can get rid of her. She’s eighteen now. Why would she come back?
“As entertaining as you are, gentlemen, I have other plans. Can we get this meeting started or are we waiting for others to join us?”
“No. It’s just us.” Mateo jerks a shoulder and shifts his feet, moving toward what looks like a cabin stationed at the far end of the cavernous warehouse floor.
“We had Wilson put one in. I got sick of kicking the rats off my shoes,” Tony calls over his shoulder, chuckling.
Crunching from a dark, shadowed corner gains all our attention. A nervous Tony reaches for a gun strapped to his hip.
“What the fuck was that?” He points in the general direction of the sound.
“Probably said rats,” I sneer, my eyes adjusting to the darkness but seeing nothing. I put my hand on top of his, lowering his gun. Remi is in here somewhere. It’s so dark, I wouldn’t be able to make him out. Any number of things or people could be in the shadows.
“Could also be your brother. Why did he go off?” the confident guy asks, his lips thinning.
“These meetings aren’t really his scene.” I jerk a shoulder.
Remi hates this part of the business. He hates most parts, but like me, he was created from this life. It’s in our blood. And we certainly shed enough for it. Our father is nicknamed “The Surgeon” because he deals in body parts, organ harvesting. Black market is more profitable than any legit field he could go into. Just like most surgeons, he has a god complex. Money is power.
When Tony determines there’s no mutant rat that’s going to crawl from the shadows and attack him, he slides his gun back in its holster before unlocking the cabin door.
Crossing the threshold, he lets out a heavy sigh. “It smells like someone took a piss in here,” he groans.
“Let’s just get this done.” Mateo huffs, throwing his overweight ass into a fold out chair nestled around a small wooden table.
Unbuttoning my jacket, I pull out a chair and join them. Tony’s right. The stench is putrid.
“I’ll get straight into it so we can all get the fuck out of here.” Mateo leans forward, clasping his hands together on the table. Tony hovers over his shoulder, while Roberto and his men take up seats on a worn leather couch pushed against the back wall. “We have an important client flying into town next week,” Mateo says, his double chin wobbling like a chicken’s neck.
He doesn’t need to clarify who he means. Mateo and Tony work for the Mercer family. Antonio Mercer is the head of their family. They specialize in trafficking women. Own most strip clubs here in Desolation and far beyond.
“And that involves us how?” I place my hands on the table, already bored.
“This client has certain tastes…” Tony jerks his shoulders, his mouth twisting.
“Kinks,” Mateo interrupts, grimacing.
If it makes him shudder, is must be fucking weird.
“He parted ways with his supplier, and it’s looking good for us to take that spot, which would be incredibly lucrative for us.” Tony rubs his hands together.
“He expects certain things to be in place for him to try the merchandize we offer,” Mateo finishes, swiping a hand over his sweaty forehead.
I hold a hand up, shifting on the flimsy seat that strains beneath my six-foot frame. “We don’t deal in that kind of contraband,” I remind them. Trafficking women isn’t something we’ll ever be into. Sex traffickers repulse me.
“We have the goods. We need the place,” Tony clarifies.
“What’s wrong with one of the clubs? I thought that was one of the things offered at them.” I’m missing something here—or they’re holding back.
“Not this kind of thing. And Antonio is taking a lot of heat right now. Maddox was brought in on charges. We need to keep things legit at the clubs right now.”
Maddox, Antonio’s younger brother.
“What is it you’re asking?” I check my watch before drumming my fingers on the flaking wood table.
“We want to host the party at your father’s property. Your father has allowed Antonio to see a special room at your house during past events. It’s the perfect place for our client to enjoy what we have to offer him.” Tony pulls out a piece of paper, black ink spelling out a sum of money.
I ignore the insulting figure and tilt my head, cutting Mateo a scathing glare. “You want us to be your party planners?” My words are laced with venom. A warning to be careful of what next comes out of their mouth. We aren’t some fucking venue for them to bring their sex slaves and perverted clients to.