LucienThere is a kind of fluid grace in her as she moves away and makes to get up, gently freeing herself from his restraining hand and floating to the bathroom as she disappears from view; at least, that is what it looks like to him as he lies, spent, his c*ck limp, his eyes on her.He is tired. He has drunk more than he intended to. And he has just killed a man, shot him, for being a traitor.*The news reached him that Orif Karimov, a man he did business with, another arms dealer from Uzbekistan, had been feeding information to the Monk. Without wasting a minute, Lucien had driven down to the wh*re house where the man had parked himself, secure in the belief that the Mafia Don would not find out about his treachery.*Lucien had walked to him, as Karimov lay sprawled on the bed, with three wh*res servicing him. His large eyes had almost bulged as the door was thrown open and Lucien Delano had entered with his men.‘What…hey man…’ the man had spluttered in his thick English accent,
The CapoHe turned to look outside the small window of the aircraft as Lucien Delano’s private jet taxied to a halt, it was bitterly cold outside but the Capo’s mind was on other things as the darkness outside stared back at him. He had slept for a few hours, but it had left him feeling rejuvenated. It was the way he was; he could snatch a couple of hours of sleep and feel rested.His mind went back to the encounter, hot and passionate, he had had with Ria before leaving the country. She could make him harden with desire with just a look from her laughing eyes, the dimples appearing as he teased him. As for her luscious body, he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, he needed to get a hold of himself. Unless he stopped thinking of her, he would be fisting himself helplessly in the tiny washroom.Karan Shah, his second in command, glanced at him, a blank expression on his face. Shah had been a friend for a few years now and he had worked his way up in the Delano mob, rung by rung. T
PhilippeHe did not waste a minuteIn a flash he had leaped up, disregarding the movement of the plane and had rushed to the cockpit, ignoring the startled looks of the pilot, the co-pilot and the two stewardesses were there.‘’ Leave. Do not land. It is a trap.’ He shouted.The pilot, a man in his fifties, looked confused but the co-pilot, a younger man, took one look at the Capo’s tight expression and shouted,’ Do it, Carl!”The hand on the controls on the mode control panel whitened as the man scrambled to obey. The wheels of the aircraft which had already hit the ground slid back and the small private plane, which had been about to glide to a halt, now shuddered as the pilot made a supreme effort and the plane shot off into the air again, swerving but lifting into the air, successfully.. Behind him, he could feel Shah’s tension, as he stood, sweating and breathing harshly.His black eyes were on the tarmac and he suddenly yelled,“Boss, they are opening fire!’The small army of d
ColeHe stood on the ground, swaying slightly with reaction. He was home, back in the USA; free from the dominating talons of Lucien Delano. And he was going to make sure that he turned the tables on the man who should rightly be making him a partner of the Club.He quickly strode out of the airport, eager to get to a safe place, a place that the Monk had promised to take him to.Sure enough, the vehicle which the Monk had told him would be waiting outside, was there, and in a matter of minutes, he was gliding away, to begin what he imagined, was a new chapter in his life…*PaddyIt felt as though he had been asleep, he thought as he slowly willed his body to move. His eyelids fluttered.But his brother, Claude, had just got up and had left, after having been beside Paddy, at his bedside, for a few hours, or so it seemed to the man who had been lying prone on the bed now for months, or was it days?He felt like a person trapped within a box, unable to speak, to do anything but flutte
ClaudeWhen his mother had called him frantically, asking him to find where Tara was, Claude was in the city, working out in the gym, preparing for the Big Fight.From her near-hysterical words, he was able to piece together the story; the wretched girl was trying to act out, he thought, scowling as he changed hurriedly and left the building with his men.Claude had learned to take his father’s advice; he never went anywhere without his bodyguards.*One thing was evident, his Mumma had not told Pappa. She said something about Pappa being under a lot of stress already and Claude frowned. It was not like Mumma to withhold anything from Pappa; something must have come up.Piecing together the story, he had managed to get the idea and figure out Tara’s whereabouts. She had gone away with that no-gooder, Magnus Nord’s sister. Claude raked his hand through his springy blonde curls. Unlike his elder siblings, his hair was wavy and he kept it close-cropped but with the accident, he had allow
ProserpinaJust as I was opening my mouth to talk to Tara, she said, in a sneering tone that I faintly recognized as being similar to the tone her friend Madeleine Nord used,‘So you noticed that I was not around, Mumma? How is that?’I gaped at her, my mind in a whirl. This derisive, mocking child, with her beautiful face twisted in a mixture of spite and fury, standing before me, her small fists clenched in anger.Could this be the little girl I had cherished and carried, fed at my breast tenderly? Her Pappa’s pet?And then, she said something that made me gasp,‘How did you get time away from f*cking Pappa?’In a flash, I had risen and struck her across the cheek, so hard that she stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, her mouth open, eyes wide. I had never hit her, in fact, I had never had a need to raise my hand on any of my children, except once on Ria, perhaps; but this was too much. Already upset over Philippe, I was too taut to handle it.We stared at each other, shocked. She
TaraThe young girl sat curled on her armchair beside the window.Ben Iusuf and she had shared a lot of information about each other during the time she had closeted herself in her room.It had felt good, venting out her frustration.Ben had listened, murmuring in sympathy, agreeing that her Mumma had been too harsh with her.It was great to have a friend to listen to her, she thought, especially when he made her feel like a person to be valued.She looked up as she heard the tentative knocking on her door, rubbing her eyes in astonishment as she saw the time.Had she actually been here for two hours? Ending the conversation with Ben with a few quick words tapped onto the screen, she rose to her feet.With a guilty start, she remembered that she had her Math test the next day. Then she shrugged her shoulders dismissively.She was a good student, she would sail through!Besides Maddie got through, and She never swotted or put in a lot of effort.*Now she clambered down and stretched.
Proserpina had already stopped listening, for she had buried her face in her hands, praying, her heart filled with gratitude. Her son, Paddy, was going to be all right!Paddy was going to be fine!*SchwartzHe glanced at the time as he sipped at his brandy.He knew that Aiyana was at home, waiting for him to return. But this evening, he had other things on his mind.And meeting Aiyana was like just about the last thing he wanted to do.*Philippe was still missing. The plane had crashed and there had been no information from the people who had been on board; had they survived?He glanced at the Boss. The man had, as he always did, shed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt to his waist, a sign that the was restless, rearing to beat up someone. The Mafia Don was a picture of fury, barely contained, as he made calls, and made sure that all the help he could muster up, was out there, on the way to find Philippe. All animal magnetism coupled with pumped-up aggression and his bodyguards ste