Degrade: A Dark Mafia Romance (DeLancy Crime Family Book 1) Read online

  “Yeah, true.” My brother grins.

  The two of us start talking about some business and what needs to be handled. Over the past several months, I’ve officially taken over as head of the DeLancy family after my father took his last breath. The night after I met with Chains and spoke about our truce with him, I went home and sat with my father while the two of us had a bourbon together. Only mine was a simple drink whereas his held the contents of a vial that would kill him within hours. I sat across from him and listened to his madness as he drank every last drop of the liquor in his glass.

  My phone vibrates on the table as the woman who my brother just mentioned, Missy, steps up to our booth wanting my attention. I glance at the screen on my phone to see it’s from Malcolm. He’s on the way but running a tad bit late. I estimate I have enough time to give Missy my attention and look to my brother. “She off or still working?”

  “She goes back on in about two hours,” Rémy states, giving me a shake of his head.

  “Well in that case, I won’t be long.” I chuckle as I slide out of the booth and wrap an arm around Missy’s waist. “Let’s go, babe. Time’s ticking and we’ve got shit to do.” Well, more or less. I have no intention of fuckin’ her, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna have her suck me off.

  I guide her through the club, down a hallway, and into my brother’s office. I release her and move to lean against the front of his desk.

  “Hmm, I’ve been looking forward to being with you, Félix,” she purrs.

  “You’re not allowed to call me Félix unless I say otherwise, I’m Mr. DeLancy to you,” I state. “Now get on your knees and suck my dick.” She’s already pissed me off.

  Missy eagerly drops down in front of me. I suppose she knows the error of her ways and if she thinks she’s getting anything out of me it’s best she listens. Only thing is all she’ll be getting is my cum down her throat and that’s it.

  I close my eyes as she pulls my already hard cock out of my pants and wraps her mouth around the head.

  Fuck it feels good. Missy starts to bob up and down but not the way I need her to. I fist her hair in both my hands and fuck her face. “My dick isn’t a lollipop to play with. When I say suck my dick, I mean actually suck it like you would a piece of sour patch candy.”

  I fuck her face and as my cum boils in my balls, I groan and release myself down her throat.

  I release her hair and slide my cock out of her mouth. Putting my cock back in my pants, I don’t bother looking at Missy. I head for the door and open it. Missy huffs, calls me an asshole and says she is going to tell all the girls that I have a small dick. Whatever floats her boat. I get pussy whenever the hell I want. She shouldn’t have pissed me off. I might have been nice and taken her to bed after she got off work.

  I close the door to Rémy’s office and walk back down the hall and head for the booth to find Malcolm finally arrived. Both Rémy and Malcolm grin at me as I get to the table.

  “Well, was she good?” Rémy asks.

  I shake my head. “I won’t be going there again. Bitch can’t suck a dick for nothing,” I mutter, sliding into the booth.

  “Fuck,” Malcolm grumbles. “She’s hot.”

  “How did it go?” I ask, getting straight to business, done with Missy.

  “Rosseau is gonna be a problem, boss. He’s not paying and his idea of bartering is getting others to do the work for him while he finds other tables to sit at. For instance, he’s been going into Austin, Texas and hitting some of De Luca’s tables.

  “I’m done playing games. I want Rosseau to pay me my cash, or he’ll be paying in blood and it’ll be before dawn. I suggest you let him know I expect an answer soon. I’m done playing games and I won’t allow anyone to make me look like a pussy.”

  Chapter Three

  Madelaine

  It’s hard to believe it’s been a week since I’ve been in my new studio apartment, but the last few days have been horrible. Our air conditioning stopped working completely so I went out to a hardware store and bought an extremely overpriced window unit. Thankfully, I have access to a window but I wish it was enough for this space. It keeps crapping out because I’ve blown the breaker bunches of times. Living here has been hell, and I keep reminding myself I can leave in three weeks if I make up my mind. I’m still teeter tottering on whether I want to move to Las Vegas or not. I thought I was so sure, but then doubt filtered back in my mind and I’m at the drawing board again.

  Yesterday I got a call from my father saying he’d be in town, which only means one thing—he needs money.

  I could’ve ignored the call, but in my mind I can’t. I still don’t know why I do this shit, why I pick up, why I give him cash, or bail his ass out when he needs it . . . but I do. I’m either a naïve idiot, or I’m a kind-hearted person. Maybe I’m a bit of both.

  When we were on the phone yesterday, he told me he was on his way back from Phoenix, Arizona. He’s always jumping from city to city and I know for a fact it’s because he’s trying to evade the people he’s pissed off. He’s flat out admitted it to me. Of course when he admitted that to me, he was plastered on cheap beer and drunk out of his damn mind.

  I told him when we were on the phone how I had to move, and he didn’t even give a damn. How do I know? Because he didn’t make any sort of comment, instead he continued on with his usual selfishness and began talking about himself, telling me how he’s starting this great new business venture and as soon as he has enough capital, he’ll be doing something right. Now that I’m in my mid-twenties I know better. It’s the same bullshit excuse he would give me as a child too, the same speech he’d give me before he went deeper down the hole, before people would be following me home after school as a child. I’ve been kidnapped three times in my life. If once isn’t bad enough, he let it happen two more times. You’d think he would’ve snapped into some sort of senses, but no, I’m afraid not. Instead the man just keeps on the same track.

  Most people would’ve pushed them out of their life and I wish I could be like that. The sad reality is he’s the only family I have left. My mom died when I was five of breast cancer and it’s been the two of us ever since.

  I know I’m not alone in life. I have a good group of friends, I have amazing bosses, and I work with extremely talented photographers. I’m blessed in so many ways. New Orleans has been my home since I was a little girl, but when I think about it the only real thing this city has ever given me has been heartache.

  I need to leave. I know that. I know it’s my best option if I really want to try and break free from my father and be independent. He’ll probably still come around just for money or whatever else he might need . . . but I’ll have something I haven’t had here—a support system.

  My phone buzzes on the other side of the couch, so I shut my laptop and stop watching the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and reach over to grab it. The light on the top of my cell flashes twice, indicating it’s a text message. After unlocking my phone I tap on the message icon and see it’s from my father.

  From: Deadbeat Daddy

  Want to grab dinner? I’m in town.

  Huffing to myself, I know things are never this simple. He wants to use me somehow just like he always does, but like every other time I end up agreeing. He’s the only parent I have left and I do love him, even after everything he’s put me through.

  To: Deadbeat Daddy

  Sure, text me the place and I’ll be there when I can.

  As I text him back, Snow meows loudly and stares at me with those big, blue eyes of hers. Giving her a scratch behind the ears I let her know I haven’t forgotten about her. “I’ll bring you back something, don’t worry. Maybe I’ll get fish tacos and we can split them later.” She flips her tail back and forth as her purrs grow louder, probably telling me she likes the idea.

  I finish giving her some loving and change into a black KISS tank top and a pair of denim shorts. By the time I’m sliding on a pair of Converse I get the address to where
he wants to eat and go downstairs. After I’m in my car, it takes me about twenty minutes to get there and sure enough I walk through the two front doors of the restaurant and find him sitting by himself at a booth. I slide in across from him and plaster on a smile. “Hey.”

  “How’s my favorite kid doing?” he asks, chuckling lightly as the waitress comes over.

  “How can I help you today?” She’s your typical blonde bimbo working here for a summer job and smiles brightly while her eyes cast judgement on us. I’m not exactly the type of woman people like her prefer to be seen around. My hair is the same fire engine red as the trucks at the station, and I have tattoos covering my body.

  My dad clears his throat and speaks up, “She’ll take a strawberry margarita, shaken, not frozen, and I’ll have a . . . mmm . . . how about a tequila sunrise!”

  “Sure thing, mister. Any appetizers to get you started?”

  I glance down at the menu for a second. “Those cheesy shrimp things look good.”

  “Okay, I’ll put an order of those in while I get your drinks ready.” She walks away and leaves my father and me by ourselves. A few awkward moments pass us by before he coughs lightly.

  “You said you moved?”

  I nod. “Yep, your friends kept following me home again.” I use the term friends lightly. He knows they aren’t friends of his. “And I bailed you out, again.”

  “This is why you’re my favorite daughter.”

  “I’m your only daughter,” I grumble, though as I speak, I realize I might not be his only child. He could have tons of kids I don’t know about.

  The next hour goes by slowly and I finally have my second strawberry margarita in front of me. Alcohol is one of the only things that makes it easier for me to stand being around my father for long periods of time. We’ve had the cheesy fried shrimp things and I’ve had some fish tacos. He ordered some sort of double stuffed burrito, and the two of us have been having a somewhat pleasant conversation for the past few minutes. I don’t want to jinx anything, but things could be looking up.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, rising as I look for the bathroom sign. I find it and go in, do my business and while I’m washing my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror. I almost look like a complete stranger, someone who’s obviously unhappy, but who’s faking her mood for someone else.

  Is there a point where you cut off toxic people? Some would say yes, though I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to know when that moment’s here.

  Shaking my head to push back my thoughts, I turn the sink off and flick my hands into the sink, grab paper towels and dry my hands. I head back over to the table and as soon as my ass is sliding in the booth my dad’s already talking about his next big plan, asking me to invest, which causes me to down the rest of my strawberry margarita in no time. Only this drink is so much stronger than the first one was. I’d say it has double the alcohol, but I might not be right. It’s knocking me on my feet a bit, but what the hell, I’m always so pent up most of the time anyway.

  My dad orders a round of nachos after we finish our entrees and asks for my card. Ugh, I should’ve known. I fish my debit card from my purse and hand it over to him as I rise again, weaving slightly. I have the urge to pee so I go back to the bathroom and when I get back to the table, I see another drink waiting for me.

  Well, looks like I’m getting an Uber tonight.

  I slide back down in the booth and sip my drink again, but this time the alcohol hits me hard. I see his mouth moving but the words aren’t processing right. It’s sounding like the teacher from Charlie Brown, the womp, womp, womp noise.

  He grabs my purse and slides it over my body as I try to stand up, but I fall to the right. Sliding an arm around me, he holds me upright and we begin walking through the front of the restaurant. He takes me around the block to the back alley and I see a blacked-out car with heavily tinted windows. He opens the back door and then shuffles me inside.

  But . . . he doesn’t have a car . . . does he? I don’t remember him having one.

  I start to open my mouth to question him, but he shuts the door in my face and as soon as the vehicle begins to move darkness begins to take me.

  Chapter Four

  Félix

  Before I left Diamond Dancers I gave Malcolm his orders to make sure Charles Rosseau brought me my money. I head to my office to get more work done. I’ll most likely be there the remainder of the night and will shower in the bathroom attached to my office. Come morning, there will still be more work to do and I prefer to stay ahead of the game.

  I enter my office and step behind my desk. I take my sports coat off and throw it over the back of my chair, taking my seat as I roll up the sleeves of my blue dress shirt. I might wear expensive suits, but I draw the line at putting a tie on. I’m not about to wear something that makes me feel like I’m being suffocated.

  I’m looking over some paperwork for a shipment that’s going out in the morning when the door to my office opens. Malcolm steps into the office carrying an unconscious woman in his arms.

  “What the fuck?” I snarl, sitting straighter in my seat.

  “Boss, you know Charles Rosseau,” Malcolm states, nodding his head to the man stepping around him.

  “Yeah, I know who he is, who I don’t know is the woman you’re holding,” I snap, narrowing my gaze on the woman resting her head against Malcolm’s chest. I take in the heels and black dress, thinking it didn’t look like something she’d wear. She’s seems more of a jeans and t-shirt type of woman considering her bright red hair and tattoos. Tattoos I wouldn’t mind getting a better look at if given the chance.

  “I don’t know who she is either, besides the fact she’s Charles Rosseau’s daughter.” Malcolm shrugs.

  I turn my attention to the slime of a man and immediately want to throw him out of my office. He’s vermin, like a pest that destroys everything, I’ll throw him out before he can contaminate anything with his touch. I’ll have to have my office disinfected after this meeting is over.

  “You want to explain to me why my man is holding your unconscious daughter?” I demand, coming to stand to my feet.

  “I’m offering a trade, my Madelaine for my debt to be cleared,” Charles says smugly.

  Does he really think I’ll accept an offer like this and him not still owe me a dime? He owes me almost a million fucking dollars.

  A crass idiot is what Charles is.

  “Tell me why I would want your daughter in the first place.” I’ll play along for a moment. “Malcolm, lay the woman on the couch for now,” I say to my right-hand man who jerks his chin in response and does as I tell him.

  “I figured you could put her up for auction,” he says. “Madelaine is very beautiful and would bring in a good chunk of change. Maybe more than enough to even pay my debt. She’s somewhat famous you know.” I should kill this weasel now for even thinking of selling his daughter.

  He seems to think I run things the same as my father. Oh, how mistaken he is.

  I’m willing to bet if Charles doesn’t get his way with me and I turn him away, he’ll only take this woman to one of the others he owes money too. I can only imagine what they’d do to her. She’s quite beautiful and I’d hate to see her beauty diminished at the hands of those who’d hurt her.

  Against my better judgement I make a decision. “I’ll take your daughter from you. As of this moment she’s mine and you will not touch her or try to barter her to pay your debts. You will still pay what you owe to me. I’m not my father and I do not sell women in auctions.”

  I make sure to emphasize each of my words.

  “You can’t do that. She will make me a load of cash. I’ve seen the shit my daughter does for a living. She’s no more than a whore,” Charles snaps.

  “Why would you call your own daughter a whore? She’s supposed to be special to you,” I sneer, my hand inching to grab my gun. It’s now my favorite. I skirt my hand over the gold-plated handle my sister, Sabine, had engraved for me on my
last birthday.

  “I will call her what she is, a whore who would work for a company like OneEye and use her body to make money. I’ve seen the things she puts up there. What’s the difference in her doing those things than me selling her?” Charles comments, irritation lacing his voice.

  I reach out and grasp Charles by his neck and squeeze his throat. “A woman should have the choice of what she wants to do with her own body. Do not think you can argue with me, weasel. I could kill you right here, right now. I’m giving you a chance to walk out of here and find a way to pay your debt without using your daughter. If you don’t take it, I will put a bullet between your eyes. I have no problem ending your life. I’ve done it to many others before you.”

  Releasing my hold on his throat, I toss him with enough force he falls to the floor. Slimy vermin needs to be put down.

  “Let this be a lesson to you for using your own flesh and blood to pay a debt,” I growl. “Come here again without my money and I’ll take you out to the bayou myself and leave you for the gators. I hear the Inferno’s Clutch MC has a gator at their clubhouse who enjoys the taste of fresh flesh.”

  Charles staggers to climb to his feet and like the scum he is, he’s out of my office like his ass is on fire. Not even caring about what I might do with his daughter.

  Sighing, I place my hands on my hips and lower my gaze to the floor shaking my head.

  “Boss, what do you want me to do with her?” Malcolm asks.

  “Leave her be. I’ll deal with her when she wakes up,” I state while moving to sit behind my desk once again.

  “You got it, boss. Need anything else tonight, or well, this morning?” This is why Malcolm is my right-hand man. He doesn’t stop working, no matter what time of day it is. He’s the same as me.

  “I’m good for the night. I have more work I can do while I wait for Madelaine to wake,” I say, sitting back in my chair and running my hand through my hair.