Mafia Intrigues

8

The Scot walked in first, then gave him a nod. He moved inside, followed by Hanson and his other bodyguard, Blaine. The Scot was a big guy with red-blond hair. His name came from his Scottish heritage. Blaine was even bigger than The Scot, with a permanent scowl on his face and tattoos covering most of his body. The guy was menacing.

Just what Hernán was going for. No one would mess with these guys.

“Um, sir, we have a small issue.” Ernest wrung his hands together.

Hernán turned to look at the slim-built older man. “What would that be?”

“Well, uh, hmm, you see . . . Leyla is ill.”

“Thank f**k,” Hanson muttered as he drew out his phone. He was probably checking on his sister again. No one was allowed their phones once they entered the poker room.

That poor woman. It was a wonder she hadn’t taken out a hit on Hanson yet just to catch a break.

Hernán shot Hanson a look. “You have a problem with Leyla?”

“Nah, I like being mentally undressed and having my d**k groped when she ‘accidentally’ spills something on me. That b***h is a f*****g piranha. Only she wants to suck the sperm from your c**k and implant it so she can get your ring on her finger. When you never pay her attention, she turns her attention to me, Cody, or Ali.”

Hernán sighed. He’d noticed Leyla staring at him. A lot. But she’d never dared touch him like that.

“You want me to get rid of her?” he asked Hanson.

“Nah. She seems to know how to keep her mouth shut. It’s her legs that are the issue.”

“Hanson,” he said warningly. He turned back to Ernest. “Are you going to be our server tonight?”

“Me? Oh no. I’m not at all suitable.”

What did that mean?

“He doesn’t have the right appendage,” Hanson said. “Wait, actually, he has the wrong one.”

For f**k’s sake.

“I don’t have time for this. You have someone to serve us?” he asked impatiently.

“Yes. Yes, of course, sir.”

“You’ve vetted her?” Hanson asked sharply, looking up from his phone. “She’s not new, right? She better know how to keep her mouth shut about what she sees.”

They never let Leyla stay in the room while they talked business. But she had to know who was in that room and what they did.

“Of course not. She’s worked here for a year and I did a thorough background check. I’ve also briefed her on being discreet.”

“I don’t know,” Hanson said slowly.

“She’s a young girl working to support herself. I’ve restocked the bar myself and you can have her patted down first,” Ernest said. “But I trust her.”

“Boss, Cody just arrived,” The Scot said. He was standing by the tablet next to the back door. It displayed the video feed of the back of the restaurant.

“All right,” he said slowly. “We’ll use this girl. But we’ll be careful around her. She can deliver our drinks and get out until we call for her again.”

Ernest nodded, looking relieved. As he scurried away, Hernán walked into the meeting room. It was set up for a game of poker. But that was really a pretense. They were all here to gather what information they could and hash out any problems.

The girl wouldn’t be an issue.

And if she was . . . then he’d just get rid of her.

He took a seat while Hanson headed over to the bar where the new girl was. He didn’t glance at her as Cody walked in. Some people might consider him good looking with his full head of dark hair and muscular body. But he was full of his own self-importance.

Tyron walked in next. He had a long beard, and was covered in tattoos and piercings. Every inch the biker with the mind of a ruthless shark.

Richard strode in, wearing an ill-fitting suit. His long dark hair was slicked back. He was sleazy and disgusting. Hernán had his spies watching him closely for any missteps.

Mary strode in next, nodding at him. He looked stressed. Short and pudgy, he had a hawkish nose with an abundance of nose hair that needed trimming.

Then, there was Phillip. A hacker should be weedy, hunched over, and pale from hours on their computer. Yet, Phillip was built like a f*****g linebacker. Menacing and tattooed.

Last was Ali. Out of all of them, he was the threat. Whether he was the asshole causing him issues right now . . . well, Hernán wasn’t sure. But he had his doubts. Ali wasn’t interested in running drugs and guns. He didn’t think Phillip was the issue either.

The others, though . . .

“Evening, everyone,” he said as he started shuffling cards.

Hanson sat down, eyeing everyone.

“Who invited the trash?” Cody said, sneering at Hanson.

“Just because you can’t afford my fees when your i***t son goes off on a rampage is no reason to call me names,” Hanson replied mildly.

Rage filled Cody’s face.

Fuck.

Bringing Hanson here had obviously been a mistake. But before he could figure out a way to defuse the situation, a small figure stepped up to Cody.

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” she said in the softest, sweetest voice he’d ever heard.

Immediately, his c**k hardened. What the f**k was that? He never got turned on so quickly. Much less from just a voice. Then, he took his fill of the girl.

Dark hair that fell in waves to just past her shoulders. Olive skin and bright, large green eyes.

Why was she staring at Cody as though he was important?

He wasn’t.

He was nothing.

She should only stare at him that way. And if she didn’t turn and look at him soon, then he wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

If she continued to look at Cody . . . dead f*****g man.

“Get me something?” Cody asked, sitting down. He was a hothead. Always quick to anger, but he usually didn’t calm down this quickly.

Hernán eyed the girl with interest as she smiled down at Cody, placing her hand on his arm.

That was it.

Dead. f*****g. Asshole.

Rage flooded him and he sat forward. Hanson shot him a quelling look.

Fuck. He couldn’t let himself display any interest in the girl. Not with the assholes in this room. Luckily, they were all fixated on her.