Savage Betrayal

Savage Betrayal Nevah Stone Copyright Published by Steamy Nights Publishing Copyright 2023 by Steamy Nights Publishing No Part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organization or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. TOC Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-one Chapter Twenty-two Chapter Twenty-three Chapter Twenty-four Chapter Twenty-five Chapter Twenty-six Chapter Twenty-seven Chapter Twenty-eight Chapter Twenty-nine Chapter Thirty Dirty Rich Monsters Chapter One Chapter One Scorpion Our enemies said we were dangerous and savage. Some even said we were twisted. They were probably right, but it was the only way to stay ahead in the game we played. You either killed your enemies, or they killed you. There was no middle ground. But we were the new mafia. Sons of mafia leaders. We had our own way of doing things. We enjoyed the game. It kept everything interesting. I turned my attention to Undertaker when he began to talk. "We could kill him. Let everyone know we don't put up with this kind of bullshit," he said. His eyes narrowed. “I could skin him alive. Sounds like fun. I haven’t skinned anyone alive in a long time.” I looked at Undertaker. He was just as angry as me, and he liked pain. One time, he told me no one could hide from what pain could make a person do. It could make you scream in agony or moan in ecstasy. Now, he was pissed. A pissed-off Undertaker wasn’t good, at least for the person he was pissed off at. Martin Connors was our banker, and we paid him very well. Too much for him to start skimming off the top. I couldn't blame them for being just as angry as me. Undertaker and Lynx didn't just work for my family, they were my family. We were cousins, but we grew up as brothers. Their parents and my mother were killed in a car wreck, which no one believed was an accident, but we hadn't found the person who tampered with the car—yet. We would never stop looking. Maybe that made us even closer to each other. That, and we were all around the same age. I was the oldest at twenty-nine, Undertaker at twenty-eight, and Lynx was twenty-seven. "No, I like the idea of destroying everything he has, then watching him fall into the gutter with the rest of the filth. Then, when he's suffered enough, you can kill him. We need to make an example out of him. Let everyone know the Grassos won't be fucked with," Lynx said. And we called him the gentle one? That wasn’t exactly true. He could get just as down and dirty as Undertaker, especially when there was a crime against our family. "You're right. We do." My smile didn't meet my eyes. Undertaker was watching me closely. "You already have an idea what you want to do, don't you?" "He has a daughter, a librarian." They both laughed. Their laughter died when I didn’t join in. "Don't you think you're scraping the bottom of the barrel?" Lynx asked. "I mean, really? A librarian. That’s a far cry from the women we usually hang with.” I slowly shook my head. "Her parents watch her like a hawk. I’d bet my last dollar she's still a virgin, even though she’s twenty-four years old." I tossed a picture on the coffee table. As they studied the picture, I glanced around the room. We lived in one of the most expensive high-rises in Dallas, and there was a reason for that—we were smart. Except I’d slipped when it came to the man who laundered our ill-gotten gains. That wouldn’t happen again. Martin thought he could destroy us, take all this away. No, I wouldn’t let that happen. We’d worked too fucking hard for everything we had. As soon as we stepped inside the penthouse, we were immersed in a world of extravagance and unparalleled indulgence. This was our oasis in the sky. We chose it because it perched majestically atop a soaring skyscraper with breathtaking panoramic views of Dallas from our sprawling terrace. When we brought anyone here, we were telling them they'd better not fuck with us, or we'd have their head on a silver platter. Undertaker picked up the picture and studied it. "Okay, now you have our attention. What do you plan on doing? I mean, she’s kind of drab looking, but I could pop her cherry. Just keep the lights off." He laughed. Undertaker had dark hair like me but built a hell of a lot more solid, and at six feet, four inches, he was a storm to be reckoned with if you fucked with what belonged to him. He was broad shoulders and all muscle and would fight you with the slightest provocation. Hence, his nickname, Undertaker. "I don't think anyone knows she even exists," I told them. "She's always been in the background. Private boarding school for girls only. He did allow her to have her own apartment, which he pays for because the people who live there are seniors. He monitors every minute of her day." "What's his motive?" Lynx asked, taking the picture. He started to toss it back on the table but then leaned back on the sofa and studied it. I had no idea what he found that was so interesting. Undertaker was right. Evelyn Connors was drab. "He's planning an announcement. He's going to marry her off to a senator's son. He's buying her place in society so he