Sequence always feels like dragon scales under my fingertips.

Not that I’ve ever touched one. But I’m guessing it’s a rather close comparison — which is perfect for the vixen whose hips are currently in my grasp. We groove to the music as Sofi Tucker transports us into another dimension, and like the dancing monkey I’ve become, Jocelyn takes the lead while rolling her waist. It’s different than when I danced with Angie at Bruno's. On that night, we were on an even playing field, but here with this woman, I know it’s more than just a dance. 

It’s a power move. 

“So, Miguel.” She looks me dead in the eyes with a mischievous edge to hers. And fuck, this woman is beautiful. Even her scent is sexy. I bet when she wakes up, birds sing praises while peering through her window. “You have a past.”

“Digging up dirt on me?” 

“We look into everyone, and I’m concerned about your temper.”

“It’s under control. I have a therapist,” I say.

“I’m not talking about your ex's restraining order against you. I’m talking about your stepfather.”

“What about him?” I grit my teeth, and Jocelyn smirks, her fingers squeezing my shoulders.

“You’re tensing up, honey,” she says.

“I just prefer getting to the point instead of dancing around.”

“Noted.” She arches a brow and brings our grinding to a complete stop. The bodyguards encircling us take a step back, forcing other dancers to widen their circumference. “Your temper concerns me because we can’t have loose canons. Not when it comes to this matter. When we move chess pieces, it needs to be clean. Otherwise, people question our judgment and lose trust. We can’t have that.”

“Ok, so why indulge us when you could have your gorilla do this for you?” 

“Kay?” she snorts. “Because he’s an asset. I'm not sacrificing him.”

“Right. If shit hits the fan, us amateur nobodies can take the fall.”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what is it? Why are you wasting your time with us?”

“Because no one else had the balls to ask us about removing Richie from power.”

“Fair. But why are we discussing this here, away from your sister?” I ask.

“Because Augusta has concerns with Angie, so they’re having their own little chit-chat.” She nods towards the balcony. “And I need you to convince me we can trust you.” 

“I don’t give a single fuck if you trust me,” I throw my head back in a laugh, but Jocelyn grabs me by the neck and yanks my face inches from hers. The bodyguards scoot forward, ready to pounce, but she raises her hand, freezing them in their tracks.

Holy shit. 

Right when I thought she couldn’t be any more scalding hot, she pulls a move like this. She’s an aggressive little thing, and I like it! Being nose-to-nose is giving me a chub. 

“You do realize all I have to do is snap my fingers, and Kay’s men will snap your neck, right?” Jocelyn hisses.

“I think I can handle them.”

“You have much to learn about the world you’re living in. Do you think the choices you make daily belong to you? They belong to us.” She releases my neck with a shove and a tisk of disgust, sending my balls immediately back inside me.

“Fine.” I smooth down my shirt and swallow my pride. “I have PTSD from childhood. You can thank my deadbeat, asshole stepfather, who enjoyed physically and mentally abusing my mother. So yes, I have a temper sometimes.”

“Did he ever lay his hands on you?”

“When I got older, but not for long.” 

“Because you stopped him.”

“My mother did.”

“Miguel…” Jocelyn pinches the bridge of her cute nose. “I’m being very patient because I sympathize with children from abusive homes, and I see potential in you. But do not take advantage of my empathy. This is a moment for honesty. You won’t get another chance.” 

“I won’t implicate myself. So as far as you’re concerned, my stepfather was killed by my mother in self-defense. I wasn’t there.”

“I see.” Jocelyn narrows her eyes, transforming her face from angelic to evil in a split second.

If I believed in the paranormal, I’d say her eyes have turned black, but nah, it’s just her dark soul revealing itself as she snaps her fingers. A guard steps forward, and he presses the barrel of his gun against my forehead. The crowd around us stops dancing.

“Tell me the truth, or Niko will end you right here, right now,” Jocelyn says calmly.

There’s no way she would have me killed with an entire club of witnesses. No fucking way. The Sisters can’t be that twisted, but one thing is for sure — they’ve underestimated my love for my mother and her love for me. So I square my shoulders and raise my chin because if this is how my life ends, I’ll die proudly keeping our secret. 

“Then do it,” I say. “Order your gorilla to shoot me because that’s my truth, and you can’t get me to say otherwise.” 

The bodyguard flicks the safety off the gun with his thumb and slides his index finger over the trigger, all while Jocelyn continues piercing me with her glower. There’s enough saliva gathering in my mouth to quench a camel, yet I don’t back down. Seconds tick by as the crowd grows wary, and some even exit the dancefloor. But then, the creases on Jocelyn’s forehead ease, the evil in her eyes subsides, and she snaps her fingers, prompting her guard dog to lower his weapon.

“This was a test. You’ve passed.” 

And just like that, she spins on her heels with a cascade of blonde hair whipping behind her, and Niko nudges me with his meaty fist.

“Move,” he grunts, and I shrug him off, then proceed to follow Jocelyn back to the VIP balcony.

“Is your stepfather the reason you’re involved in this situation?” she asks over her shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“You're the kind of person who enjoys playing the hero, and you've become awfully close with Richie Reddy’s wife.”

“Ex-wife,” I correct.

“It doesn't matter what her title is. In my experience, personal connections get messy — which means you’re a risk.” 

“I’m a risk? I'm the reason Richie and his dumbass shenanigans won't be your problem anymore!” 

Jocelyn sighs deeply. “So far, you’re doing a shit job at proving your temper is under control.” 

“I thought I just passed your little test.” 

“You’ve proven you can keep your mouth shut, but you're still a loose canon.”

“A loose canon?" I throw my head back in a laugh. "Have you not met Angie! She has red flags all over her."

"And you're a hazard sign."

"Yeah, well, you can either trust me or not. I don't really give a fuck."

"Ok." Jocelyn studies me. "Let's cut to the chase. Where is Richie?"

"You tell me."

"Oh, come on, Miguel. Lies won't build trust between us."

"As I said before, I don't give a fuck if you trust me or not."

"Fine. Be stubborn." Jocelyn snaps her fingers, and her muscle-man Niko leans in. "Tell Miguel about your discovery the other night."

"Yes. Ma'am. I discovered that Richie Reddy is strapped to a chair underneath Miguel's mother's house in some torture bunker," Niko says, and the blood from my head avalanches to my shoes, taking my stomach with it.

So they do know about what I've done with ol' fuck-face Richie. But why hasn't she ordered her security guys to kill me on the spot?

"Let's try this again, Miguel." Jocelyn claps her hands. "Why are you holding Richie captive?"

"I... Uh..."

Jocelyn crosses her arms, causing the diamonds on her wrist to catch the light. "Now isn't the time to play coy."

"Fine." I blow out a breath. "I don't like feeling out of control. I don't like when my fate is in someone else's hands. Richie threatened to kill me, and I refuse to stand by while he plots my death. So I'm dealing with it my way."

"And with zero regard to our ecosystem, even though no one is supposed to make a move without our permission.” 

"I guess I'm a rebel."

"A rebel with a death wish." Jocelyn reaches up and, this time, holds my neck gently, but her words still cut like glass. "Augusta and I balance the scales of the underbelly, including the scum of the earth and their corrupt dealings. What makes you think you're so special that you can do whatever you please without consequences."

"I don't think I'm special." I shrug. "I just don't enjoy standing around like a little puppet waiting for you to snap your fingers. I'm not one of your meathead security guys, and I sure as fuck won't let the Richies of the world hurt the people I love."

"I see..." Jocelyn says and rises onto her tip-toes, which is pretty impressive with her wearing sky-high stilettos. She pulls my head closer to her mouth, and her warm breath brushes my ear like a loving caress.

It's a turn-on, and part of me wonders if she'll let me hike up her dress to discover what kind of panties she's wearing. In a bold move, I slide my hands onto her hips and pull her in closer. She might have all the power, but I have the bigger dick, so I must ensure she feels it.

"And what do you see?" I ask.

"Someone who takes matters into their own hands," she says. "I admire that. It takes guts, and confidence, perhaps even a bit of arrogance. We have that in common."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It's important you know this about me. We're called the Sisters, and we make all decisions together, but Augusta is forty-five. Therefore, many argue she's a bit of an old hag with old ideals."

I reel my head back and look her in the eyes. "Why would you say that? Forty-five is not old."

"Try telling that to the people who believe she's not agreeable to change, and they're not wrong. Augusta sticks to our father's standards and doesn't understand these are different times from when men ruled the roost."

"Let me guess. These people would prefer if you have the final say on matters?"

"You could say that."

"But why are you telling me this juicy gossip?"

"Just thought you'd like to know you're not the only one who likes to determine their fate," Jocelyn says.

As the chandeliers cast speckles of white light across her face, I get the feeling Jocelyn is hinting at something more significant than Richie shit-for-brains Reddy. It takes me a moment, but then I connect the dots. Is she saying she wants Augusta gone so that she can take over?

"What exactly are you telling me?" I ask.

"Augusta and I have gone back and forth on this Richie situation. She thinks we need him to balance the scales because we can't predict who will rise in his absence. However, I'm afraid I have to disagree. We need Richie gone. He's a cancer who won't stop until he's number one in the Bay Area drug trade. We can't have that. The cartels are number one, and we don't mess with cartels."

"I don't blame you. Those are some scary fuckers."

Jocelyn releases me and nods towards the VIP balcony. "When we get up there, Augusta will agree to your plans with Angie, but that's only because you mean nothing to her, and in the next few days, she'll have Kay put a bullet in your head."

"Are fucking serious?" I take her elbow.

"I have no reason to lie."

My brows furrow as I search her expression for any trace of lies, but I don't, and I believe her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you should know. But you don't have to worry about Kay. He won't touch you."

“So, does this mean I've proven myself to you?” I ask because if she's revealing something so taboo, then she must trust me.

“Not quite. I might have reservations about you, but I see a glimmer of something pure deep inside which works in your favor. Perhaps it’s your troubled childhood I pity.”

“I don’t need your pity,” I scoff. “I’m a grown-ass man who’s done well for himself. Sure, this world of yours is unfamiliar and something I gotta learn to navigate, but I’m a quick study, and I don’t bow down easily.” 

“Pride often comes before the fall.” Jocelyn cocks a brow.

“I could say the same for you.”

“Touché.” She smiles and links her arm through mine. “I appreciate your candor. Maybe we’ll get along after all?” 

When we make it to the VIP area and circle the lounge chairs to take a seat, there’s a shift in the atmosphere. Angie’s arms are folded, and her jaw is jutting out, creating an overbite as she frowns. It’s clear something happened while we were gone, but what did Augusta say to make her look like an interrogated child after lying about eating candy before dinner? 

“You’re back.” Augusta stubs out her cigarette as smoke curling from her mouth. “Now we can discuss business.”

“Yes.” Jocelyn settles next to her sister and crosses a leg over the over. “Let’s talk about Richie Reddy.”

With everything that's happened in the last few minutes, my thoughts spin like a carousel on acid. So I ease onto the plush ottoman, roll my sleeves up, and lay down the plans to take out Richie.

Not that it matters anymore since Augusta could give two shits and plans to put a bullet in my head.