Medical school never taught me how to bring someone back from waterboarding. Maybe I would have stuck around if they taught us how to revive them from lethal torture.
I kneel beside Ricky Ferraro’s unmoving form and pull the wet cloth off his face. His scraggly face is as still as death, and his lips have turned blue. The hose I used to drown him lies at my side, still pumping out a steady stream of cold water across the bathroom floor.
“You still with me, Rickyboy?” I slide my fingers beneath his jaw but there’s no pulse.
Shit.
My gaze darts around the tiled space, part of me expecting someone to barge in and demand to know what the hell I’m doing with a wet corpse. Thank fuck everyone’s too excited with my brother’s release from prison to poke their nose in my business.
Another One Bites The Dust by Queen pumps in from the dance floor, giving me an idea. It’s about 100 beats per minute, the perfect tempo for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
Interlocking my fingers, I position my hands on his chest and begin compressions in time with the music.
“One, two, three… Another one bites the dust,” I chant alongside Freddy. “One, two, three… Come on, you dead bastard.”
I pause for a few beats and stare down at his pallid face, expecting him to jerk or cough or show some sign of life. He doesn’t.
My eyes narrow. If I gave a shit about Ricky, I would pinch his nose shut, tilt back his head, and blow oxygen into his lungs, but there’s no fucking way I’m locking lips with that slimy motherfucker.
When I deliver a precordial thump to his sternum, Ricky doesn’t so much as twitch.
“Don’t you dare check out on me now,” I snarl. “I didn’t even get to finish waterboarding you yet.”
The door opens, letting in a blast of music and a scream. I raise my head and lock gazes with our new bartender, Tania.
“Close the door,” I snarl.
Tania rushes toward us, letting the door swing shut. I curl my lip, not bothering to hide my contempt. How typical of her to assume I want her company.
“Oh my god,” she screeches. “Is he okay?”
She stands in the stream of hose water, staring down at the dead man tied to an upturned chair.
“What do you think?” I ask, my voice flat.
“Did you—” Her eyes widen.
Rising to my feet, I wait for her to put together all the pieces. Despite the two-inch long lashes and bubblegum-pink hair, Tania isn’t stupid. She studies biomedical sciences at Alderney State University. When I interviewed her for the job, she was intelligent enough to suck my cock to perfection.
“Did I what?” I ask.
“You killed him.” She pats down her apron and extracts a phone.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my lips curling into a smile.
“Calling 911.”
I spring into action, my fingers curling around her neck. Tania’s eyes widen, which is a feat considering they’re hidden beneath two black caterpillars.
“Cesare—”
“The Phoenix is under new management.” I slam her against the wooden door, making her features twist with agony. “Now that my brother is out of prison, everyone who fucks with the Montesano family will end up like this dead motherfucker or worse.”
Her phone falls to the ground and slides across the stream.
“Please,” she rasps, her hands trying to pull my fingers off her throat.
“Please what, Tania?” I say with a grin and tighten my grip around her neck. “Use your words.”
Her face turns an interesting shade of red that clashes with the pink hair and matching brows. Tears stream down her cheeks as she chokes, streaming rivulets of black mascara.
She moves her lips but can’t make any sounds. It isn’t until she falls limp that I realize she’s fainted.
“Shit.” I release her neck, letting her crumple to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. “Why do I keep breaking all my toys?”
The door opens again. Gil lumbers in, filling the bathroom with his massive frame. Light bounces off his shaved head as his gaze bounces from Ricky’s dead and bound body to Tania’s.
Gil once took a bullet for Dad, which elevated him to the family’s golden enforcer. When Dad died and my brother, Roman, got locked up, Gil became his right hand. He’s like another older brother and is loyal as fuck. But at times like this, he’s a nuisance.
Lips tightening, he steps inside and fixes me with a glare. “Is she dead?”
My nostrils flare. Does he think I’m dumb enough to kill a girl at my own nightclub?
“Cesare,” Gil growls.
“She passed out,” I mutter.
With a grunt, he walks across the bathroom and turns off the hose. “Get changed out of those wet clothes and go join Roman in the VIP section.”
“You’re no longer in charge,” I say. “Roman’s out of prison and—”
“There’s a dead body, a living witness, and a homicide detective walking around the club looking for an excuse to send Roman back to death row,” he snarls. “Put on something dry, let me clean this up this mess, and take a walk in front of some fucking cameras.”
In other words, Gil wants me to create an alibi.
* * *
About an hour later, I sit behind the desk, watching the club from a wall of screens broadcasting various locations around the building.
I wanted to catch up with Roman, considering today is his first taste of freedom, but he’s too busy stalking the daughter of the man who framed him for murder. He stands on the edge of the dancefloor, watching a group of women performing synchronized movements.
My cousin, Leroi, sits in the VIP section with a petite woman who’s the opposite of the usual tall brunettes. Like Roman, Leroi is nine years older than me, but has worked as a hitman for two decades.
Leroi is a fucking hero and the reason my big brother is free. Earlier in the week, Leroi massacred every cocksucker even connected to Roman’s conviction and found a bunch of computer files that proved his innocence.
And what was my part in this daring rescue?
Gil blocked me from leaving the club the entire night, saying Leroi didn’t need my help. When the cops visited the next day asking where I was the night of the mass murder, Gil replayed video footage and lined up over thirty people to give me an alibi.
Roman rises off his seat and hugs Leroi, which is something my big brother didn’t do when I met him moments after he was released. Old memories resurface of how it felt to be excluded by my brothers and their friends for being too little. When I was young, the nine-years age gap was as wide as Lake Alderney. Now, it’s equally as vast.
Slumping forward on the desk, I rest my chin on my clenched fists. “Fuckers,” I mutter under my breath. “Nothing ever changes.”
I imagined the day of Roman’s release a little differently, with the family celebrating his freedom at home around the dining table like old times. Instead, I’m the one on the outskirts in my own club, watching Roman strengthen old bonds.
My gaze wanders to the screen covering the entrance, where a familiar-looking woman strolls in, wearing a little black dress that showcases her long legs and barely covers her pert tits.
Stifling a groan, I kick myself for lusting after Leroi’s clingy ex. She’s the hottest woman who ever stepped into the Phoenix, yet she chose my cousin, not me. I shouldn’t want her. Besides belonging to someone else, she’s a nightmare.
Last time she was here, she threw a drink over a waitresses flirting with Leroi. Now, she stalks his apartment like he’s the only man in New Alderney with a functioning dick.
I rise from my seat and jog around the desk to get a front-row seat of Leroi’s showdown with that crazy bitch. After Leroi puts her in her place, he might need a cock to cry on.
