dragged her across the floor by her hair and kicked her in the side until her spleen ruptured. Yeah, things got pretty bad. We lived in a world of darkness and secrets, but she stuck it out.
By the time I’d turned sixteen, I’d had enough. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wouldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t going to let him hurt my little brother, not like he’d done me. I’d made up my mind that the next time he touched either of them I would put a bullet in his head.
But I didn’t get the chance.
He was on his way home from work when he decided to stop at the local bar for a few drinks. After one too many beers, he found himself in a fight he couldn’t win. A guy had enough of his fucking foul mouth and knifed him right in the gut. Left him for dead in the parking lot. By the time he was found, it was too late. My father was already gone. Our lives with my father were over, but the effects of his abuse would last for years to come. You see, there are some scars you cannot see, but they are there just the same—some so deep they’ll never fully heal.
Those scars are what made me the man I am today—a man full of anger who never let anyone get too close. A man who knew when to remain silent, how to stand strong inside and out, and knew exactly when to strike. Those were lessons only a father like mine could teach.
Because of him, I had a bite so venomous it would put you in the grave.
Because of him, I was Widow.
Chapter 1
Widow
“Where is everyone tonight?” Marlowe asked as she wiped down the counter. “I haven’t seen it this dead since I started.”
“There’s a big Titans game tonight, but don’t get too excited. Things will pick up.” Marlowe is Rafe’s ol’ lady. He’s one of the reasons why she started bartending for us. It’d only been a few months since she started, so I got why she might’ve been concerned about us being slow. I glanced back over my shoulder at the table behind us, where a group of five or six guys were tossing back one pitcher after the next. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but just looking at them gave me a bad feeling. The way they were drinking didn’t bother me. In a strip bar like Stilettos, you have to expect rowdy drunks, but there was just something off about these particular guys. Maybe it was the way they kept looking around, watching every move the brothers made—almost like they were hoping for trouble. Regardless of what they were thinking, my gut told me our quiet night wouldn’t be lasting long. “Take my advice. Enjoy the quiet while you can.”
“That’s just it. I’m having a hard time enjoying all the quiet.” She motioned her head over to the flatscreen mounted on the wall behind us and sighed at the sight of Stark’s image flashing across the screen. “Just when you think they’ve put this story to rest, they dredge it all up again.”
“It’ll all die out soon enough.”
Stark was actually an associate of Marlowe’s biological father—a man who was once high up in the Italian mafia and planned to expand his business by branching out in Nashville. He didn’t live long enough to make good on that plan. We made sure of that, but Stark wasn’t ready to give it up. He had it in his head he was going to finish what his partner started and thought he could use Marlowe to carry out his plan. He was wrong. There was no way in hell we were going to let someone come in and take root in our territory, and we sure as hell weren’t going to let him use one of our own against us. He never saw us coming. The asshole actually thought he had the upper hand, but it was clear from everything that was being said on the news, Stark was done—in more ways than any of us realized. After listening to the reporter for several moments longer, Marlowe shook her head and said, “I knew he was a bad guy. I just had no idea how bad. To think he had all those guns and men at Crockett’s. You’d think he was planning on going to war or something.”
“Hard to tell exactly what he was planning,” I lied.