She"s back. She"s beautiful. And I plan to make her mine.
Although I come from a family who talks with their fists, I rule the Southside of Boston more strategically… with brains, and a little brawn, if necessary. Mess with me, and I’ll take you down.
What I don"t expect is to be taken to my knees by little Amelia Byrne, the blue-eyed goddess who"s swept back into my life. She was too young for me when she left the Southside. She isn"t too young anymore.
Amelia is quickly becoming my obsession. My addiction. And she"s got secrets she doesn"t want me to know. But I have secrets too.
The first one is that I plan to claim her. And when she"s mine, I"ll never let her go.Books by Author:Jessica Blake Books
Could this weekend start any worse"
I scrubbed my hand over my day-long stubble, unsure if I wanted to rewind or fast forward time. It was nearing midnight, and I"d left my penthouse office hours ago, ready to relax until Monday. That wasn"t going to happen now.
The problem with being a legitimate businessman in this part of Boston was dealing with the more unsavory characters that came with my line of work. If my father, the great Patrick Casey, had still been in charge, he would"ve probably sent a couple thugs with a Glock or two to deal with this shit, then pay off someone at the docks to get rid of the evidence.
That was how he built the family business. He and his iron fist had run it right up until the day he died of a heart attack five years ago.
Everyone expected me and my brothers to run things the same way, violent and ruthless, but we had other plans. Instead of making reputations, we were interested in making money. And it was hard to make a lot of money when you were either in jail or constantly worried about being put there. Or six feet under.
"We"re still waiting to hear, boss," my driver said over his shoulder, and I forced my impatiently drumming fingers to stop. I shouldn"t waste my time with situations like this, but I had to know that the "situation" was handled before I would be able to relax, even just a little.
There were rumors that one of our recent purchases " a run-down shopping center that was set to make a big impact on the local neighborhood when we finished with it " had been vandalized. And by vandalized, I meant some assholes had tried to torch the place to the ground.
A few development companies had been interested in the lot, but we"d muscled our way in, convincing the old man who owned it that we"d make sure the center was a source of pride to the neighborhood instead of a drug deal mecca and hooker hangout it would otherwise become. That, and we"d offered the old coot a pile of money that the other buyers hadn"t been willing to cough up.
Money was something that I possessed by the shitload, thanks to my father"s connections to the street. I knew which properties were worthy and which ones were busts, and over the past five years, I"d built a fortune that made me nearly untouchable.
I wasn"t exactly a philanthropist, but I had pride in the old South Boston neighborhoods I was raised in, and the last thing I wanted to see was them razed to the ground for franchises or to leave them in ruins for the petty criminals to overrun.
Petty criminals like the ones who"d tried to torch the shopping center weren"t just an annoyance to me, they"d recently become a bit of a hobby. I wasn"t some sort of Dorchester Robin Hood or vigilante dosing out justice because it made me feel good, but I did like to make examples of thugs who touched what was mine.
And the neighborhoods of South Boston belonged to the Caseys.
"They"re ready for you, boss," my driver finally said, and I gave Ray a tight nod. It was time to make my thoughts known to these assholes.
We"d driven across town while we waited for word from my second-in-command, Brennan Drake. Brennan and I went back to middle school, and we"d been inseparable since thirteen. He was the muscle, I was the brains. It"d always been that way, and it was the reason we were so powerful together. We knew, and played, our roles well.
Ray exited the car and pulled open my door, and I gave him a nod of thanks as I stepped out. We were in the warehouse district, parked directly in front of one of the many buildings Casey Holdings owned, and I passed through a side door that was being held open for me by one of my dark-suited employees. I didn"t know his name. I knew few of them, but I was very aware of what they were good at.
The warehouse had once been a fish processing plant, and the place still reeked of fish guts. I breathed through my mouth and adjusted my suit jacket out of habit as I moved toward the center of the giant, open space. Most of the lights had been broken out, but two swung overhead and cast a dim circle around a bloodied man currently tied to a chair.
He was already plenty beat up, thanks to whatever enforcers got their hands on him first, and he looked just on this side of conscious.
As I approached, Brennan stepped out of the shadows while he wiped his hands on a handkerchief, making it clear who"d done the bloodying of the man in question. I nodded to my friend. Brennan was damn good at what he did, and he managed to operate within my thin line of decency.