Don't Call Me Daddy

We lived like kings.

The Underground Kings. That was what the criminal world knew us as. No one knew our faces, no one knew where we lived, no one knew our reasons, so they bestowed us with the title of royalty, and we ran with it.

Life was fucking good, and for me, it was about to get better.

Not only did Brian Marks set me up, but he stole my girl, and today I was going to get her back. Not because I loved her anymore. This was about revenge. Brian took ten years of my life, and I was going to take ten years from theirs, stopping them from living happily ever after. And then, I was going to torture him until he confessed and cleared my name.

Maybe Quinn would see I wasn’t the monster she was made to believe me to be. We were each other’s first, everything. And when I was charged with murdering my sister, she broke up with me. Her lack of faith in me hurt, the fact that she didn’t know me better than that, so I let her think I did kill Tracy.

Quinn went and fell in love with the actual murderer, the traitor, and I didn’t fucking care about her happiness anymore. I wanted my ten years back.

Lie.

I knew deep down it was more than revenge, but love was a weakness in my world. It wasn’t what made the damn thing go round, money was.

“You ready yet? Jesus. We aren’t going to make it if you keep grooming yourself. You look pretty. Let’s go,” Sebastian said, snapping his fingers at me.

I hated it when he called me pretty. Men like me weren’t pretty.

?

??Everyone armed?” I asked, buttoning my cuff link as I strolled out of the hotel room.

“Is everyone armed?” Asher scoffed and opened the blazer of his suit to show he had a double holster strapped to his chest with a gun filling each. Asher Haven, also known as Heaven since is he was the pretty boy of the group and had a way with the ladies any time of the day, no matter where we were. Heaven was set up for assault and battery by an old ex. He only spent a few years in prison, so he still had an innocence about him I didn’t understand.

“What kind of question is that?” Owen, the oldest of the group at forty, shook his head. He was set up for murder too, only it was first-degree, and he spent twenty-two years in prison. And time really hardened him up.

“I was just checking. No need to get touchy about it,” I mumbled. I looked left and right down the hall. We were the only ones here. I made sure to rent out all the rooms so no one could bother us. The hotel was extravagant. Marble floors were under our Italian leather loafers and crystal chandeliers hung every few feet.

“Like we would ever forget to go into a job armed,” Grayson chimed in and shut the door behind him. He was accused of rape and served eight years. I knew his girlfriend accused him, and DNA evidence was there because they had sex earlier that day, so everything was against him. She cheated on him constantly, and instead of accusing the right meth head, she brought down a good man.

The group of us walked down the hall, dressed to perfection. We got onto the stainless-steel elevator, and I pressed the button for the lobby.

“Your nervous,” Owen eyed me up and down. “You are fidgeting.”

“I’m not,” I said weakly.

He gripped my arm and spun me around. I stared at where his hand gripped my bicep. I lifted a brow, wondering why he dared to touch me. The elevator descended, dinging every time we passed a floor. “Get your hands off me,” I said through tight teeth.

“We can’t do a job if you’re all jittery, Jaxon. Get your shit together,” he said.

I ripped my arm from his hold and stepped close to him, lifting my finger in his face. “One, don’t ever touch me again. Two, don’t ever fucking touch me again. Do you understand?” There was a problem with a group of guys like us. We were all dominant, and all of us thought we were in charge, so we clashed.

There was no mistake, though. I was in fucking charge.

“And three, I am ready to do the job. Don’t ever question me again,” I warned him just as the elevator stopped and opened its doors to let us out. I spun on my heel and marched forward, not giving a damn what else Owen had to say. My men flocked my sides, and as we walk toward the front door, everyone turned their heads to stare at us. Men and women alike. They could feel the power and danger rolling off us.

It was a damn good feeling too.

The gunmetal grey Rolls Royce was there to pick us up, and the driver opened the back doors to let us in. One by one, we dipped our heads and climbed in the car. It smelled of new leather, rich and buttery with a hint of leather musk. I inhaled deeply, letting the expensive seats calm my nerves. It had been ten years since I had seen Quinn.

And after today, she’d be mine for another ten.

The anticipation was arousing me. Now, Brian would know what it would be like to lose someone he cared about, and Quinn would know what it was like to have the opportunity taken away.

The car pulled away from the curb, and as we gained speed, I saw people trying to peek into the car, but they couldn’t see through the tinted windows. I leaned back and closed my eyes, imagining the plan in my head for the hundredth time. I would make myself sparse in the crowd as I sat in a pew, would wait until the priest asked for any objections, and I would stand.

I couldn’t wait to see their faces.