Disruption Page 4

  Thinking about her in that rose-colored dress killed me.

  Thinking about what was under that dress also killed me, but thinking about tearing that dress from her body and fucking her until we’d both had our fill gave me sleepless nights. I’d lost count of how many nights I’d woken up with heavy, cum-filled balls and only having my right hand to deal with it, and if I didn’t get laid soon, I was going to go fucking insane. In the back of my mind, the same thought always raced forward, I was over fucking someone nameless and imagining it was Bailey underneath me.

  This was why I stayed away from her.

  Even though I’d never laid a finger on her sexually, she had me all twisted up inside.

  In my wet room, the cleverly positioned shower heads and my palm saw to the task in hand, and because it was all about Bailey, I was hard again just ten minutes later. About to fuck my own fist for the umpteenth time that week—hell, that fucking year—I heard my cell ring and grabbed a towel.

  I pulled the phone off the nightstand and looked down at my dick, talking to a guy on the phone sorted out the need for more hand action instantly. “Bishop.”

  “Bailey has put in a request to book Checkmate for her next launch.”

  Checkmate was one of the many clubs I owned. And when I say many, I mean approaching fifty, almost a business venture in itself. The Teague family portfolio of venues ranged from top end nightclubs, bars, a couple of Vegas casinos and a lot of run down, ramshackle places that included titty bars, biker club houses and underground gambling places. Not to mention off the grid places where I kept the stock for sale. Female stock. I’d only begun that when my staff started to scout the girls hanging around the clubs, those girls that couldn’t afford the cover price and seemed okay with doing just about anything to get inside and be part of the scene. Those types of girls we put to work elsewhere. It was the cycle of life for the ‘not haves’ of this world.

  The clubs washed the money the other businesses brought in and it worked. I had a lot of staff and a lot of money, drugs and whores moving around in it. But I was about to head into more dangerous ventures, and right now, I could do without Bailey fucking around using my club as a venue. I might have owned some of her family’s businesses, but this all felt a little too incestuous.

  “Are you my secretary now?” I asked, with more than a fucking hint of sarcasm.

  Bishop’s smile could be heard in his voice. “No, but thought with that shipment date still outstanding, you’d wanna know.”

  He wasn’t bothered about that at all, this fucker knew that whenever Bailey got in touch, even indirectly, I’d wanna know about it. Most of the time it made sense to make myself scarce, that was the easiest way to handle the temptation.

  Making that promise to Jameson to stay away from her was getting harder and harder by the day. But I’d also promised him that our business wouldn’t directly touch hers. We accepted each other for what we were, but his sister didn’t need to be involved in that.

  Bailey had taken over the last remaining Roach family winery, a business I’d let them keep, because I knew she wanted it. The family company had been in operation since the nineteen-fifties, and after much expansion it was well on its way to becoming one of the largest distributors of spirits and liquor in the US. While Jameson sat on the board, silently, his twin sister ran it. We toyed with the idea of using that for a money wash facility too, but he needed somewhere to hide in plain sight, just like me, and his family business was perfect for it.

  Bailey was personally involved in product development and marketing as well as being CEO. While a lot of the territory in the market was classic spirits and vintage grape, they’d branched out into soda-based alcoholic stuff and ready-mixed cocktails about five years ago and regularly unleashed them for testing in popular night spots. It was a game changer in colleges and universities, demand from students was high.

  I rarely let her use my clubs though. I was just a loyal customer who stocked them, and if Bailey wanted my biggest California venue for a launch, then I had to understand why.

  “Leave it with me, Bish.”

  Bishop understood this.

  He understood everything.

  He wasn’t as unhinged and maladjusted as people thought.

  That was me.

  Bishop could be openly violent when the need arose, but he was the one that kept me on the level. People’s misconceptions got the better of them where we were concerned. Because I was boss, I must be the clever, sensible one. Because he was my hired henchman, he must be the insane member of the party. People got it wrong and if they knew what was good for them, they’d give me the wide berth and be dropping words in Bishop’s ear; the man who was far more rational than me.

  “You’re going to piss off your best friend on his honeymoon?”

  That was the Bishop I trusted, the one that knew when to push the right agenda and with a smirk, I confirmed, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  In the back of my Mercedes AMG C Class, winding along the Pacific Coast Highway, I made the call to Jameson. I knew he was somewhere in Europe but hadn’t paid much attention to his schedule so had no clue on the time difference. I waited until the foreign dial tone squawked back at me and just as I was considering hanging up, he answered.

  “Better be good, Z,” he growled.

  “Why? Are you someone important?” I razzed.

  “Kerry was just… stretching.”

  The way he said it conjured up things in my mind that I didn’t need to think about it, she was his wife, for fuck’s sake. Firstly, I didn’t like her, but in the past, Jameson and I had shared more than our fair share of girls. Some were happy about it, others not so much, but I will still okay with fucking them, conscious and willing or not. There was one time, we rounded up a street girl who thought she could cut in one of my less affluent clubs and make a scene when she got caught, Jameson and I taught her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

  I was getting hard again, I needed to get laid.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “Italy. The lakes to be precise and my wife was just saluting the sun on our balcony. Naked. I was about to go and help her stretch.” His voice dropped an octave. “Fuck! You wanna see what I can see. The sun is bouncing off her—”

  “No. I don’t. That’s your wife.”

  “Yeah, just testing you,” he laughed, and I knew he was begging for me not to drag this call out.

  This was the kind of relationship we’d always had. Open, honest and like the brother’s we’d always believed ourselves to be. This was how he knew about my family, it’s history and some of what that entailed, this was why it was a no brainer to let him join me.

  Jameson understood. Just because he was privileged, didn’t mean he wasn’t a twisted, mean, motherfucker.

  “Saw you disappear at the ceremony.” I knew where he was going with this.

  “Yeah. Business.”

  “And did you end that business relationship?” he asked, a bite in his voice.

  “I did.”

  His voice was low and hoarse. “Owe you, brother.”

  After all, I couldn’t let my best friend murder someone on such a special day.

  He came to me when the first images of Bailey surfaced, I’d had to all but lock the motherfucker up in one of the cells in the basement. So, when I told him I’d deal with it, I’d meant it. Jameson didn’t mind the blurry line we lived, he thrived on it as much as I did, but his rage would have seen to the ruining of his wedding.

  There would have been no naked downward dog by his new bride in Italy.

  There would have been mess, a clean-up and lots of regrets.

  I didn’t often have to take care of anything for him, but for that reason I would. And for his fucking gorgeous sister who I was in love with, I absolutely would.

  It was an honor to take the cunt out.

  I thought back to the day Jameson found the pics. I was sitting in my office at Checkmate, when he launched himself through th
e door, looking like he’d lost a million bucks and found a dime.

  “Zane, it’s Bailey.”

  Hearing those words, my heart hit the soles of my feet and it was all I could do to push myself up from my chair and walk to him.

  “Is… she?”

  “No. Fuck no. I’m going to show you something, it’s going to sting, but… maybe Bishop should be here.”

  It was the first time he’d ever done two things. Acknowledged that what I was about to see was going to hurt me and this was because he knew how I felt about Bailey. My best friend was not stupid, and it hurt us both when he made me promise to stay away from her, him because he was denying his best friend something I truly wanted and me because I was promising to stay away from the love of my life. It was not something we ever spoke about, it was the silent elephant in the room that we both knew was there and navigated around for the sake of our friendship, and especially for the business. He also never usually acknowledged that he needed Bishop for some level of security when dealing with me. It was for that single reason that I knew what he was about to tell me wasn’t going to just poke at my rage, it was going to obliterate it. If Jameson needed Bishop and couldn’t deal with me on his own, then now more than ever I needed to keep control.

  I watched as Jameson pulled his cell from his pocket and set the video player going. The minute I heard the mewling sounds of someone being fucked raw, I knew it was her. Those sounds called to me at my basest level. He looked away. “She’s fucking done it this time. Always causing fucking trouble.”

  “What the fuck?”

  I grabbed the phone and saw the girl who’d only ever been mine in my head, spread eagled on a bed with her hands between her legs. Her head was thrown back, her eyes all dazed, but it was the hint of metal dangling from those fucking fantastic tits of hers that did it. I had to fight to remember that my best friend, her brother, was here, showing me something that must be making his insides boil. Froze in that moment, looking at the odd angle of the filming, I watched as a hand leaned across, from off camera and viciously tugged on the nipple clamps. A head appeared and snorted a line of coke from the crevice between her tits, and then he lifted a finger dusted with the white powder to her nose. As soon as she snorted her eyes went wide and her head dropped back as she moaned and squealed. The camera panned south to her pussy, her own fingers pumping in and out as she squirted piss everywhere, high as a kite being fucked on film.

  A man moved forward and replaced her fingers with his dick, another appeared to the side and almost choked her by shoving one in her throat, and then the camera panned out, there were at least three other men, all waiting for their turn.

  If it hadn’t had been her, I would have praised the girl, and then hunted her down for some fun of my own. Either that or put her to work. She’d make me a fortune on the porn circuit.

  But it wasn’t some random girl, it was Bailey, my fucking Bailey.

  With a throbbing in my head, I looked at my best friend.

  This was hurting him as much as me. It was just a different kind of hurt. I didn’t think of her like a brother did. I was fighting the urge to hunt her down and make her do this shit for me. A private audience.

  I swallowed and remembered where I was, who was here.

  “Where was this taken?” I snapped. It didn’t look like she was being forced, but then who knew, she was as high as a fucking kite.

  “In her place. Sick fuckers.”

  As soon as he finished those words, the monster inside me won the battle and I launched Jameson’s phone across the room into the wall. Expecting the phone to smash into a million pieces and stop playing the video, it didn’t. Bailey’s fucking cries of pleasure just intensified as the men started to praise her performance, and unable to listen to anymore, with three large strides I was over to it and smashing it into the ground with the heel of my handmade Italian shoe.

  It was then that Bishop stepped out of the shadows and looked at me to check I had my shit together.

  “What do they want?” I knew what they needed, what they were fucking going to get, but right now I wanted to understand their motive.

  “Five mill. I could pay it, no problems, but that won’t make this go away. And if this gets out, it’ll be open season on our business. How could she do this shit?” Jameson roared. “She knows reputation is fucking everything.”

  “I’ll make it and them disappear.” I was deadly serious when I said those words to him. I would drag myself to the ends of the earth in search of these motherfuckers and make them pay. “Leave it with me. I’ll get your cell checked by Ted. Get a replacement sorted.”

  Ted was our tech guy, he was pretty much a computer genius and after I caught him trying to hack one of our sites on the dark web, there was only two outcomes for him. He was going on the payroll, so he was as culpable as the rest of us, it was that or a shallow grave. Ted chose wisely.

  Jameson looked at his cell on the floor. “Good job that guy’s a genius, that thing is a fucking jigsaw puzzle.” He shook his head and then looked me square in the eye. “She doesn’t know about this.”

  “Thank fucking Christ for small mercies,” I breathed out.

  More unspoken words passed between us before I finally got my shit together enough to reassure him. “If they contact you again, tell me. I’ll deal with this.”

  “No one else in the world I would trust with this, not even myself. You’re my brother, Zane.”

  His voice tailed off at the end, the subject matter for his visit had worn him down and his sadness and relief were winning over. That was two strikes against this motherfucker. No one got under the skin of my brother.

  “You too, Jame.”

  I stayed where I was as Bishop followed him out, no doubt having a necessary pow wow about me needing to keep a level head and not go too far. But a level head was the last thing on my mind. Whoever this guy was, he’d touched what I’d considered mine, he’d taken a very real, kinky fantasy and tarnished it and to cap it off, he’d made me see it.

  When Bishop returned, he was already calling Ted to get on with tracking the lowlife down. “Ted is on it.”

  “I’m going to find every last one of them and destroy them. The guy who streamed it, he gets some special attention, then I’m going to put a bullet between his eyes.”

  Bishop nodded in understanding.

  He’d been in this dark place with me before. His only job right now was to keep me from going too far and getting locked up.

  I’d stood by my word. Picked them off one by one by one and got hold of all the images and the three-hour long video footage. Then I destroyed the man’s life, his career, that of his entire family around him and anyone else of any significance to him. I gave the boys the chance to play with him for a while and then, the end result was me blowing his fucking brains across a plastic sheet in an alley behind the Grand Hyatt while Jameson celebrated his wedding, and I knew when he raised a glass to me later on that night, what he was really toasting to.

  Bailey knew nothing of it. It would seem like the guys she’d hooked up with once or twice and got her kink on with, just disappeared.

  I went back to concentrating on the call at hand and knew that my friend was just as distracted. “Bailey wants to book Checkmate for some launch. You down with that?” I asked.

  I waited on the end of the line as Jameson went quiet. I wanted to believe he was just preoccupied with watching Kerry Karma Sutra her shit on the balcony of a villa overlooking the Italian Lakes, but I doubted it. He was weighing up whether it was too close for comfort, her legitimate stuff being in one of our clubs.

  “I want to say yes, but—”

  Then I knew, I didn’t care what his reasons were, I was done with this shit. At thirty-two years of age we’d all been the best of friends for over two decades and not once had I given him any reason to doubt how seriously I took the promise I’d made.

  “Are you not fucking done with this shit yet, Jame?”

  �
��I’m just looking out for my sister,” he snapped back.

  “Well, news flash, so was I when I watched that fucker’s brains coat the alley behind the hotel when you were priming your new wife for a newlywed fuck. So, don’t treat me like every other cock that wants in between her legs and give me some fucking credit.”

  I lied. I was totally like every other cock, in fact, possibly a hundred times worse.

  “Z, I don’t want her mixed up in our shit.” His quiet yet determined tone, told me that he was closer in proximity to Kerry than I thought.

  “Our shit is locked so tight even we can’t smell it some of the time. I’m done with this crap. She’s my best friend too and I shouldn’t need to cower to you just because you’ve got some weird shit in your head about something that has never actually happened.”

  “Don’t do this to us, Zane.” I could tell his temper was spiking. His new bride was in for one of a helluva a rage fuck when he’d finished this call. I’d seen and heard him deliver a few of those in our time too.

  “I’m not the one doing anything. I never have, only you’ve chosen not to see that. I’ll sort Bailey’s launch venue. Trust me like you did when you walked in my office all those months ago and begged me to sort out her last fucked-up error in judgment.” I changed the tone of my voice at the end, I had to remember I wasn’t dealing with an underboss or some criminal fuckwit, this was my best friend, my oldest friend, my near as damn it brother, and the closest thing to a full business partner that I had. “Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon, Jame, don’t worry about this shit and go namaste the fuck out of your beautiful new bride.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds, before replying with, “This is done, providing you keep to your promises, brother, and on that note, I can see my wife performing something she calls the cat pose, in my head all I see is the reverse cowgirl. See you when I get back.”

  I was left with dead air on the end of the phone and more images of my best friend fucking his wife. He always liked to watch before he got involved. He once called it a performance appraisal and I’ll never forget that night either. Me, I liked to be calling the shots and getting all I wanted, or demanded, and it was for that reason that the girls who bed hopped between the two of us didn’t often come back for seconds, we were like Jekyll and Hyde in the bedroom. His wife Kerry was nice, but irritating; pretty, but had this permanent look of disdain about her; but most of all, not my type.