Ruthless Sinner (Ashby Crime Family)

“Any news?” Instantly, her defiance disappeared and was replaced with concern.

“Nothing yet, but I’m not stopping until I find the shooter and who hired him. Kat, you’re in charge of the casinos and the other legit businesses. They need no gap in leadership, so you’re it. And I mean all the casinos, not just the Emerald isle. Get Maisie to help if need be.”

“Got it,” she nodded quietly and reached for more tacos.

“Virgil, I need you to arrange family security every day. Make sure everyone is covered at all times.”

Virgil nodded. “Is that all?”

“No. I’ll need you to step in for me occasionally with suppliers and shit. Let them see that we’re still in control of everything.”

“Got it.”

“Terry will cover business security, making sure the card games have increased security, making sure waitresses, whores, and anyone else who might be a target has protection. That includes the properties too.”

Terry stood a little taller, happy to be included. “You can count on me, Jas.”

“Always.”

We’d been friends since we were kids, two fucked-up boys with more anger than sense. Of course, we got into a ton of shit, but always, Terry had my back. “Everyone check in with me. Daily.”

Cal continued to stare at his plate, filled with two tacos and an enchilada, all uneaten. “And me?”

“Find every fucking second of surveillance footage on every possible route to and from Lucky Lopez. I want to see it all myself.”

There was no way this asshole had gotten in and out of the Green Zone without being picked up by any of the cameras. “Even the ones that don’t exist.”

Sadie, in her infinite wisdom, had offered to pay for new streetlights, all of which came with several high-def cameras because she wanted always to be able to see what was going on in the Green Zone.

Cal acknowledged he heard me with a nod, but otherwise, he still remained silent.

It was starting to piss me off. I opened my mouth to speak, but Kat spoke first.

“We all need to try to visit Ma regularly. If not every day as a group, then at least one of us shows up every day. She would never admit it if she were awake, but she needs us now more than ever.” A sob escaped and Kat wiped at her eyes. “I’d hate for her to die all alone in there.”

“Sadie isn’t gonna die, Kat,” I said quietly. “She’s too stubborn for that.”

She would never let herself be taken out by a bullet unless she was on her knees with the gun aimed right at her head. As long as there was fight left in her, Sadie would fight.

“But I agree, everyone visits at least once a day. Talk to her, make sure she’s well cared for.”

Not that I had a doubt. It was my hospital. Well, I owned the majority stake, and that came with a certain amount of deference. So far, Sadie was treated like the VIP she was.

I filled a plate with food, my chair sliding back as I stood. “Anyone have anything to add?”

A chorus of “No,” went around and with a nod, so I left the dining room. It was second nature to head to Sadie’s salon because that was usually where we retired after a family meeting or Sunday dinner, but I kept going and took the rear path to my suite of rooms.

It was time to call Jameson to see what, if anything, the cops had on the shooting.

Law enforcement in the area were no fans of the Ashby family, but they knew the best chance to stop the violence to come was to find the shooter before I did.

Chapter Four

Mo

I was balled up under the covers. That would keep the monsters out. Eyes squeezed tight, I curled into a ball as heavy footsteps creaked down the hall that separated my room from what used to be my mom and dad’s bedroom. Mom was gone, had been dead for a few years, leaving just my father and me.

The doorknob jiggled, and I sucked in a breath, held it for what felt like a whole day to see if he would step inside tonight or head to the kitchen for another beer first. The telltale sound of the rusty door hinge on top as it scratched against the wall was my answer.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

The bed dipped beside me, and a large hand landed on my back. I let out a gasp. It was a mistake to respond. Some nights I pretended to be sound asleep, and he would go away, drink himself into oblivion and pass out on the sofa where I would find him in the morning.

“Good. You’re awake.”

I said nothing, but I felt the cool air hit my skin as he stripped away the blanket. I squeezed my eyes together even tighter. If I didn’t look at him, didn’t see him take off my clothes, and push my legs apart, then it didn’t happen. It wasn’t my father, just a faceless person doing terrible things to my eleven-year-old body while the hot tears streamed down my face.