By: Sienna Mynx

“He’s not listening,” Henry said after he cut-off Dale's taunting. “We’ve made our move it’s time for him to make his. C’mon guys we’re family. We shouldn’t be fighting. We need to find a way to work together... help father.”

“Eat your fucking salad and stop your bitching,” Dale mumbled. Henry lowered his gaze. “Tarek and I understand each other. Don’t we little brother?”

Tarek took down a hard toss of scotch from his tumbler. He and Dale were only six months apart in age difference. But of course Dale considered himself the older brother. Tarek set the glass down and his attention was averted from the table conversation. He narrowed his sights on a woman approaching the bar. He didn’t see her face. He didn’t lift his gaze in time. Instead his attention was riveted to her narrow waist, and shapely hips and backside. The sway of her hips wasn’t exaggerated, it was slight and suggestive. He watched her and felt that tug in his dick he often felt when a beauty caught his eye. She leaned in a bit to speak to the bartender. Her left foot went up like that of a damsel in need. The bartender gave her the sly smile most men gave when they saw someone appetizing. Without seeing her face, that hour glass figure of hers that gave her perfectly shaped ass a suggestive lift from her lean made it clear that she was indeed someone he’d want featured on the menu. Sex was a release. Boxing was a release. Drinking was a release. He needed these releases, to contain the rage that festered in his gut for two decades. A rage he never really understood, but always lived with him. And that was part of his vice—releasing rage through these escapes instead of dealing with what was so fucked up with his family. Yes, he was a man who loved his scotch and loved pussy. But even more he loved punishing those that betrayed him. Henry had betrayed him.

“Tarek don’t be angry. I’m tired of being caught between you and Dale,” Henry said.

He cut his gaze over to Henry and his brows lowered. The salad he didn’t touch was cleared away and the entree was served. Dale looked on quite amused but Henry had the look of fear. He was nothing but a weakling, unworthy of his time.

“Dale’s right,” Tarek said. “Stop your fucking bitching and finish your salad.”


“Did he look?” Kassidy asked when she returned to the leather booth. Daniel stared at her in disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked.

“I told you. I can do this. I just went to the bar and the man is drooling. Stop fighting me. Tonight is the night.”

“He’s not alone tonight Kassidy, that’s the point. Don’t you see his brothers over there?”

“That’s not a problem—”

“Walking past him and shaking your ass is ridiculous. It’s time we got to the truth. The real reason you want to get close to Tarek Marshall.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Daniel opened the laptop. He turned it around so the screen faced Kassidy and she could read what had him so deep in thought when she arrived. It was an old news article. One she kept in her scrapbook and read so many times she knew the words in the article by heart.

“Is this your family?” he asked.

“Are you investigating me?”

“Carmen had concerns,” Daniel replied.

“Carmen is a jealous witch Who never liked me. I've been working with you since 2012. Now you don't trust me?” Kassidy voice elevated unintentionally.

“I trust you. I know you believe in what I believe in. But Carmen thought the Tarek Marshall job is personal for you. Now I know she’s right. Kassidy, I'm sorry for your loss. For the pain that monster caused. But I am not taking on a personal vendetta. Our fight is more important than that.”

“Oh stop with your bullshit!” Kassidy said in a clenched teeth whisper. “Don't feed me fake concern. Yes, that is my family. The Turners and the Garcias. A tragic story that binds us always. It’s none of your business what happened in my past.”

“Do you blame Tarek Marshall? Is this personal for you?”

“I blame Tarek Marshall for many things. So what?”

“You were dishonest Kassidy.”

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