Page 3 of Redemption
She scoffs and hangs up.
Yeah, I know. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do. Bad advice.
At eleven o’clock,I make my way past the door guard in Nathan’s building. He’s got a silly red uniform, no gun, no club, no cuffs. No nothing. He’s just for show. I could take him down in a second. Ignoring the old elevator with its black, steel scissor door, I take the stairs two at a time and slam my fist on Nate’s door.
My slightly younger brother is uncharacteristically disheveled.
“Nate. You look like shit.”
“I spent a few days in Houston cleaning up a mess. It’s nothing, but yeah, didn’t get much rest. Want something to drink?” He cocks his head toward the kitchen.
“Wanna lighten your heart?”
“That’s a firm no. Want a beer?”
“Sure. Got anything else other than Mexican? It tastes like water.”
“Nope.”
I shrug and accept the bottle. Nate has his little getaway in Mexico where he spends as much time as he can. He used to be there a lot more, diving, drinking, doing tourist chicks. Now he only goes there whenever he can get the love of his life to go with him. He’s turned into a different man. It’s taken some getting used to, but I like it. He seems content.
His loft is out of this world: huge, floor to ceiling windows in three directions, a sliver of a view of the river. Like himself, it’s a thing of ridiculous beauty. He was born with everything. I don’t look like a slug myself, but he’s supermodel material, the fucker. I envy him sometimes, but I’d never admit it. He works hard for our uncle, just like the rest of us, but he has somehow managed to distance himself too. These days there is no longer any dirty business for him, only the legal side of things.
I dump my bag in one of the guest rooms and take a long, hot shower. I’m frustrated. Watching the wife and the cop fuck each other’s brains out last night left its mark. It’s been a while, but tonight I’m fucking gonna make a New York socialite scream. The thought makes me hard, but I decide to save it, to let it brew. The release will be much sweeter that way.
We spendthe afternoon doing absolutely nothing. Vietnamese take out, reruns of old TV-shows, catching up on each other’s lives. I like it here. I like the city; I like the distance from our uncle, Luciano Salvatore, head of the business, capo of all organized crime on the West Coast. It would be nice to see more of Nathan and his chick. And Angela. I don’t think Salvatore would let me move from San Francisco, though. I’m in too deep, too snared in his claws.
“So, who are you beating up this time?” Nathan has just exited the bathroom, his hair soaked, dripping on his naked shoulders, a white towel tied around his waist. I’m putting on my shirt, way ahead of him in preparations. He wanted to go to a restaurant. I demanded a club. I’m no family man. I need a fucking release tonight, or I’ll go crazy. Willing chicks don’t magically hang around fancy restaurants.
“Corben Olsen. Owes a lot of money. Late. He needs a little push.”
“Little? Luci doesn’t send you for ‘little’.”
I shrug. “I was available. I’ll break something and let him know I’ll be back if he doesn’t pay up. I probablywillbe back, because I’m pretty sure he can’t.”
“You going back home to the foggy city after this job?”
“Yeah, unless I get sent somewhere else. I’m like a fucking nomad, man.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I know the feeling. I’ll be with you in a minute, then we’ll go find you a woman.”
“You know me too well.”
I give my brother a nod before I venture deeper into the club. Only a few blocks from his place. Even though a block in the Big Apple can be really fucking huge, it was still walking distance to the newest, hottest place, where everybody goes.
She’s standing by the bar, long black hair, tan – when most women these days stay out of the UV-light –, legs for days, and a little golden-yellow dress. She stands out like a beacon in a place where most play it safe and wear black. Women think they’re so edgy in their little black dresses, but it’s the colorful ones I look for. They’re more adventurous, more into playing the kinds of games I like to play.
“What do you want, love?” I lean in, my voice low, meant for her and her alone. “From the bar, I mean,” I add, letting the double entendre hang in the air.
She turns her head and measures me up, immediate interest flickering in her light blue eyes. She’s wearing a ton of makeup, the smoky eyes girls are so fond of, a deep red lipstick that reeks of sin on lush lips I imagine wrapped around my cock. I’ll have that makeup smeared all over Nate’s expensive sheets before I kick her out in the morning.
“What are you offering?” Her voice is sultry, the sound shooting straight to my groin.
It’s ridiculously easy. Being six foot three, nothing but muscle underneath a tailored suit, oozing power and self-assurance, I can get almost any girl I like in here.
I decide to go all in. “Ropes, gag, blindfold.”
She widens her eyes, glances around us, then back at me, taking stock again.