Illicit by M.N. Forgy

Author:M.N. Forgy [Forgy, M.N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: MC Romance
Publisher: M.N. Forgy
Published: 2017-07-26T18:30:00+00:00

Following Zeek inside of the casino, the smell of stale smoke and alcohol is strong. The sound of slot machines going off, and people yelling in excitement that they’re winning in the distance.

I don’t gamble. I don’t have good luck in life so why would I take the gamble with my money. Seems fucking stupid.

We head into the VIP elevator and jet towards the top of the casino where the office is held.

The elevator doors ding, and I follow my president into the office. Strong cologne and cigar smoke fill the room. A fat man in a tuxedo sits behind the desk with five identical men at his side. They’re all wearing white wife beaters and track pants. Guns in their hands that are casually crossed in front of them, and gold chains and rings shining from the lights above.

They came with extra heat so Felix won’t be taking out anyone without a blood show this time.

I scan over the room. An expensive wooden desk, a bar stocked with the top brands of whiskey, and the back wall lined with tinted glass, giving you a bird’s eye view of the city. I smirk remembering Frank falling out that window.

The fat man stares at us through the cigar smoke, his heated eyes passing from one Outlaw to the next. He’s wearing a Gucci suit, gold and diamonds on each one of his stubby fingers, and a black hat sits to the side on the desktop. His face is round, and a dark five o’clock shadow sprucing along his jawline.

The hairs on my neck stand, my trigger finger feeling itchy.

I swallow hard, this rotund man isn’t a loose asset the mafia sent to do their dirty work. This is one of the main men of the mafia himself. The tattoo of a praying Mary across his neck indicating so. We really fucked up this time. Fucking Felix going cowboy at the last meeting really fucked us.

“Fucking sit,” the fat man barks, and the men strapped with AK’s aim at us.

Zeek steps up to the desk with a certain confidence in his stance and scratches his temple with his pistol. My teeth grit and I keep my hand on my own weapon. I don’t like the feel in the room, tension is thick and my urge to kill every one of these gangsters is beyond controllable. Sure I might die trying but that’s what my way of life is about. To die with a purpose, not with fucking dreams untold.

“This won’t take long,” Zeek explains arrogantly, and the boss laughs. His large shoulders rising and falling hard as he chuckles.

“My men and I will be running this casino, and I will be running my motorcycle club. If you want in on that, we can work something out,” Zeek informs, not seeming to give two shits that he’s amusing the man.

“You killed one of our girls, you’re lucky we are even here trying to talk this shit out.” Felix grits his teeth.

“Salvatore said you were a character.

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