register behind the bar and then rough him up before telling him he had twenty-four hours to come up with the rest. Then, because Uncle Vic was smart enough to insist Mitch put him as a beneficiary of his insurance policy as collateral, I’d set the motherfucking place ablaze.
But Violet is the wildcard.
I stare at the balding bastard, taking in his wrinkled polyester suit and the three gold chains around his neck.
Looks like I’m taking those too.
I lift my head and meet his gaze. Already knowing the answer to my question, I ask, “You got my uncle’s money?”
He swallows, raising his hand to swipe the sweat from his forehead.
“Not yet, but....” his eyes drift to the door Violet exited. “…she was supposed to help me get it.”
Wrong answer, motherfucker.
“Explain,” I demand, reaching behind me for the beretta I have tucked into the waistband of my slacks. Aiming it at him, I watch as he starts to inch backward. The fear in his eyes gets my adrenaline pumping and for a moment I let myself imagine the satisfaction I’ll feel once I end this miserable fuck’s life.
“I don’t hear you talking, Mitch.”
“Uh…before things got bad and I took the loan from Vic, I was doing all right. Her mother, Flora, owns the Puerto Rican restaurant on Carol Street, Los something or other—”
“I’m aware,” I grunt. This guy can’t be this fucking clueless, but I suppose that’s what years of drug use will do to you. “Get to the fucking point.”
“The restaurant was going under; she was three months behind on the rent and up to her ass in debt. I offered to help her. Gave her twenty grand to get her on her feet. Then a couple of months later things went south here when that Russian cocksucker opened up a strip club on Union Street.”
My expression stills as I transfer the gun from my left hand to my right hand.
“What Russian cocksucker?” I sneer.
“I think his name is Yankovich,” he supplies. “He’s putting me out of business, that’s why I went to your uncle for the money in the first place.”
Hmm…interesting.
“Does my uncle know about this other club?”
“I don’t know.”
I’m veering off track. This Yankovich guy isn’t my concern, the only thing I care about is the barely clothed girl freaking out in my car right now.
Keeping the gun cocked, I tip my chin.
“And what does Violet have to do with any of this?”
“Your uncle started bringing the heat on me, so I went to Flora and told her I needed the money back.”
I take it back, he’s not clueless, he’s a fucking moron. A moron with a death wish.
“Do you have any idea who her son is?”
He blinks and quickly shakes his head.
“No, she doesn’t talk about her son.”
Of course not, because she’s ashamed of Joaquin’s choices. If she knew he was funding Violet’s education, she’d likely demand her daughter drop out of the Academy because she considers every dollar her son earns as blood money. She ain’t wrong. It’s also probably why she didn’t go to him for a hand-out when her restaurant went down the tubes. However, none of that explains why Violet is mixed up in any of this bullshit.
“Two weeks ago the daughter got wind of my exchange with Flora and came here. She gave me five hundred dollars and offered to dance here until the debt was settled. She’s the best girl I got now.”
Not a surprise.
Judging by tonight’s performance alone, Bug was born to dance.
She was also blessed with an incredible body—one she won’t be sharing with these motherfuckers anymore.
“That’s a shame, seeing as she no longer works for you,” I say, stepping toward him. “And as of today, Flora Cabrera, doesn’t owe you a fucking dollar, do you understand me?”
His face pails.
“What? You’re talking about twenty thousand dollars! That’s not chump change. I’m…how am I going to come up with Vic’s money? You just sent my highest earner out the door.”
Again, wrong answer, motherfucker.
“You should’ve done your homework, Mitch,” I chastise. “But don’t worry, I’m gonna teach you a nice little lesson.”
Chapter 2
Violet Cabrera
I want to die right now. Fucking die. Okay, so maybe I’m being a tad bit dramatic, but I don’t think I’ve never been so humiliated in my life and that’s saying a lot considering the first night I danced at Delilah’s Den, I took the stage with tears in my eyes. I wouldn’t let them fall while I was performing, though. I forced myself to focus on why