One Reason to Kill (Escaping the Mafia Book 1) Read online

  One Reason to Kill

  Escaping the Mafia, 1

  Evelyn Kiss

  The North Dragons

  They’re all in way over their heads, but they are too in love to notice.

  The Introductions to this New Adult, Crime Series in:

  Chains

  Tee

  Ryder

  Gunner

  Maddox

  © 2017 by Sonya Jesus

  (Previously Titled The Dragon’s Chains)

  Praise for Evelyn Kiss

  Hello, Broken.

  Meet, Damaged.

  You two have a lot in common.

  All I wanted was another Hannah. I never cared about the secret society, or the people here, or the money. I only pledged because of her. Because this was her life, and I wanted to be in it forever, but forever never came.

  So, I live in the past with the memories of the girl I loved. I chase her ghost until the bottom of every bottle and search for her embrace in every wrong girl. I drown out her voice with the beat of my drums and the roar of my bike, but it’s only temporary. When I am sober, the loss kills me.

  Until I met her. Lexington. Whoever said opposites attract got the fundamental laws of attraction mixed up. I wasn’t supposed to fall for the equally messed up anonymous one-night stand, but she understands my pain, and she saves me from it.

  And from the Mafia.

  Contents

  1. Balls and Chains

  2. Hannah Hangover

  3. Alpha-holes

  4. Chained

  5. Psychology of Love

  6. The Truth

  7. Pretentious Asshole

  8. Demands

  9. Commonalities

  10. The apology

  11. Burning Dreams

  12. Cake-Ho

  13. Glass Box

  14. Eskimo Kisses

  Escaping the Mafia

  Who is Evelyn Kiss?

  1

  Balls and Chains

  Santiago , One Year Ago

  “Santiago?” It takes me a minute to register the name.

  I turn to the side and find Hannah’s baby sister sitting on a barstool in front of me with the Den’s phone in her hand. She eyes me cautiously, as if she’s afraid calling me by my real name will piss me off. She’s been looking at me like that for years. I don’t blame her though. Considering my girlfriend treats her like she’s insignificant, she thinks I view her that way, even though I have proved otherwise.

  She points to the phone after she scans around the room, probably searching for her defenders, Dax and Aysen. Those three are attached at the hip, though I am sure they would rather attach themselves to other, more interesting, parts of her body.

  I stop drying the whiskey glass with the towel and crack a smile to ease her apprehension.

  “You can call me Chains, Teagan. Everyone else does.” One member of the secret society walked into the damn club, referred to me as Hannah’s ball and chain, and ever since I was christened Chains. Better than Puppy, though, so I’ll take it.

  Teagan, Dax, and Ace are the only members of the North Dragons, who don’t call me that. Well, that’s not true. Dax and Ace call me Chains when Teagan isn’t around. They try to hide it, but those two are in love with the same girl, and one day that will bring a whole lot of trouble to the crew. The secret society is ruled by five families that never mix. When Hannah was the legacy, the one destined to take over the Blackwell seat, it didn’t matter who the Silver and Forte legacies screwed. Now it only matters if it’s Teagan.

  “Uh… Yeah… I could.” She smiles hesitantly. “But I like Santi better.” She doesn’t have to tell me why. I know it has to do with defying her sister. As meek as her sister wants people to think Teagan is, Hannah is petrified of the power Teagan holds over the legacies, or more specifically, Dax and Ace. The other two could give a rat’s ass about Baby Mouse.

  Teagan just hasn’t accepted the things around her, or maybe she hasn’t found herself yet, but when she does, Hannah is in for a rude awakening. As much as I wish I could smooth things between the sisters, there’s too much hate between them. I love my girl to pieces, but Hannah’s a fucking bitch, and she needs to be knocked down a peg, and I’d like to see Teagan be the one to do it.

  I nudge my chin toward the phone. “What’s with the phone, sweetheart?”

  She blushes at my nickname, knowing Hannah absolutely hates that I call her that. She leans over the table and whispers a warning, “Hannah is on the phone.”

  I place the cup down and look her straight in the eyes. “Should I say it louder then?”

  “Probably not!” She shoves the phone in my face as she giggles softly. I hold the phone up to my ear and ignore Hannah bitching about provoking her with the ‘sweetheart’ comment. I point toward the door, and Teagan follows the direction of my finger to find Dax and Ace. Her face lights up, and she rushes toward them with a quick flick of her hand.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to call that little shit sweetheart? Do you ever fucking listen to me?”

  Here we go. I tuck the phone between my chin and shoulder, freeing my hands so I can grab the rich dick at the end of the bar his Powdered Bourbon. We roll the cubes in a mixture of powdered sugar and cocaine before pouring the bourbon in front of him.

  “I swear to God, one of these days, you’re going to regret paying attention to her.” I take a deep breath as Hannah’s bitch fest continues. “You can’t just ignore her? It’s enough I have to deal with Dax and Ace dropping everything any time she comes around or calls. She’s just a kid. I mean, really…”

  “Baby?” I cut her off when she pauses for a breath or runs out of fuel. “Balls…”

  “What!” she shouts, but a little less enthusiastically.

  “Are you done with your jealous fit?” I hear the string of curse words even though she pulls the phone away from her mouth. It’s not the first time Hannah’s tried to call me out on being nice to Teagan. “We’ve been over this before, I get you and her aren’t close, but that doesn’t mean I am going to be a dick to her.” I had a little brother of my own, and I would never do something like that to him.

  “Fine. Protect the baby mouse. I don’t fucking care.”

  I can practically hear her eyes rolling. “Are you on your way?” I check the clock on the wall. “We have a late reservation at Maziato’s tonight.”

  “About that,” her tone softens. “I have to cancel.”

  I throw my head back and tame my tongue. It works for like two seconds. “Again? This is the third time this week.”

  Those were the wrong words to say in a room full of Norths. A mixture of high-class business moguls and rich hippies fill the Den. This is the one place the society mingled. The five council members almost never came down here, but their legacies did. Daxton and Aysen were always at the Den. Teagan tagged along with them, but the other two legacies were a couple years younger than her and stuck mostly to the floors above us. Aside from them, we had the inner circle. That’s where guys like me, Gunner, Maddox, and Ryder come in. We are the actual face of the North Dragons.

  Gunner, who apparently had been listening in on our conversation, mouths the word pussy. While Maddox pretends to yank on chains. As Hannah gives me yet another work excuse, I flip both my middle fingers at them. They get a kick out of teasing me. It doesn’t matter how tough I prove myself to be, I’ll always be weak because of how powerful Hannah is. It also doesn’t help that they know why I’ve made the three reservations at Maziato’s. They are assholes, but they did help me pick the ring in my back pocket.

  “You understand, right?”

  Th
e rare doubt in her voice forces me to say, “Yeah, baby. But tonight?”

  “I should be back around eleven, maybe sooner. I have to take some people out for drinks and get them on board with something.” Her vagueness never phases me anymore. I’m not a legacy, so I’m not privy to sensitive information. There are so many secrets between us, I don’t even know what I am allowed to know.

  “Okay, I’ll wait up.” I think I’m going to have to toss the whole romantic dinner proposal out the window and improvise tonight. I refuse to go another day without telling this girl that I want her forever. I know me joining the society was basically a promise of forever, but I am a traditional guy, and I believe in until death do us part.

  “That sounds doable.” She isn’t exactly the lovey-dovey kind of chick. Hannah is anything but gentle. While Dax and Ace are busy chasing tail, avoiding their feelings for Teagan and getting hammered, Hannah has been attending meetings with the Council, wining and dining all the big leagues of our world, establishing a relationship with all the right people and making deals and promises.

  Hannah has vision—illegal, extremely dangerous vision—but vision nonetheless. She doesn’t think five members are necessary. She doesn’t just charm the people around her, she commands them. She doesn’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner; she wants to be the fucking god, and everyone knows it. She has more power in her words than the Council has in their actions, and it’s fucking hot as fuck.

  “Hey, Chains?” Hannah says playfully. This is as romantic as she gets.

  “Yeah, Balls?” Yeah. I call her that a lot.

  “Something fierce.”

  Those words always tug at my heartstrings. The first time she told me she loved me, she said, “I love you something fierce.” Ever since, she only says ‘something fierce’, so she doesn’t show weakness. So, I answer like I usually do, “Always.”

  She ends the call, and I put the phone on the counter until Teagan returns from her meeting. Only then do I notice the phone I thought was the office´s was actually mine. How the hell did Teagan have my phone? Lucky for me, she comes back to order a drink.

  “Can I have a jolly rancher, Santi? Dax and Ace had to go work or whatever.” She grimaces, no doubt considering the fact that they were training the new batch of Denners for the escort service. Maddox and Gunner usually jump at the opportunity to train the new girls, but sometimes the Council prefers the legacies to actually work. Not that the guys usually consider sex work.

  I pour the cranberry juice over the mix of vodka and peach schnapps as I ask Teagan, “How did you get my phone, sweetheart?”

  “Hannah had it.”

  I mix the drink and pour it into a glass as I wait for her to finish. “She left it in the office, and my dad started whining about it going off. He was yelling that you shouldn’t leave your shit around, so I told him it was Hannah.”

  I slide the drink over to her. “You stood up for me?” Blackwell wasn’t my biggest fan, but he showed me respect because of Hannah. Respecting his youngest daughter, however, was a different story. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  She shrugs her shoulder nonchalantly, as if the backlash she received meant nothing. Blackwell and Hannah always treated Teagan as a nuisance, and backtalk wasn’t usually tolerated by either of them.

  “Thank you.”

  She smiles softly. “Any time.” She sips her drink and swivels on her heel to go to a booth, but she turns back around. “I am sorry she canceled again.”

  “How did you know?” I swing my head over to Gunner and Maddox, the only people who knew the secret. They catch me staring and ignore my pissed off vibe.

  “Don’t blame them,” she defends them. “Hannah cursed them out this morning, and I was there when they let it slip.” She takes a moment to go over what she just said in her head and then smiles nervously. “I mean, after she left.”

  “How did that fit into the conversation.” Teagan bites the inside of her bottom lip, something I have only seen her do when she was keeping secrets she shouldn’t be. “Teagan?”

  “They just said they couldn’t believe you were proposing to ‘that bitch.’ I deduced the rest.” She looks behind her and spots Ace in the booth, calling her over. I guess, they were postponing their duties to hang out with her. “Good luck with the proposal thing.”

  Good luck? I don’t have time to ask her. By the time her words register with me, she’s already sitting by Ace. I didn’t need luck … I just needed my girlfriend to make it home.

  The knock on my door comes at around three in the morning. Tossing the guitar on the couch, I rush for the door, so fucking pissed and ready to unleash on Hannah. I swing it open, already cursing her out in the process. “You’re fucking late.”

  “Hey, man,” Gunner and Maddox say in unison. They look like shit.

  “What the hell are you guys doing here?” I’m not a fan of entertaining drunken circle members in my home, even if they are my friends. It’s enough I do it at the Den.

  “Can we come in?” Maddox asks.

  I glance over at Gunner, who runs his hand through his short hair, looking more nervous than our initiation together. Maddox tries to keep a calm demeanor, but I have known him for five years. These two weren’t here to shoot the shit, they were here to dish on whatever shit they got themselves into.

  I step aside and let them in. They head straight for the living room, and I follow them. Gunner makes himself at home, pours himself a glass full of whiskey, and downs it. Then refills with another full glass. Maddox takes a seat on the armrest of the sofa, fidgeting with his beard and doing the exact opposite. He’s acting like he has never been in this place before.

  “Okay,” I say after about five minutes of complete silence and move the guitar so I can sit down to hear whatever shit I’m going to have to help cover-up. “What did you guys do?”

  Gunner stills himself. With his cup still in mid-air, he gives Maddox an urging look that seems to get Maddox talking. “Shit, Santiago.”

  My whole body goes into high alert. Santiago.

  “There’s no easy way to say this.” Nothing good ever comes from those words. “It’s Hannah.”

  Gunner finishes for him, “She’s been in a car accident. She didn’t make it.”

  2

  Hannah Hangover

  Santiago, Present Day.

  I learned to mask the sorrow Hannah’s absence left in my heart, but I could never quite fill the void her death left on my soul. I’ve occupied my time with music, tried to find a solution at the bottom of countless bottles, and auditioned way too many girls, hoping they could replace her touch or mimic her voice.

  But nothing worked. Not even the concoction of drugs I got my hands on. No matter what I took, my addiction to Hannah was far stronger than anything I ingested. It’s impossible to erase the memory of someone who is engraved in your brain.

  I close my eyes, and there she is.

  I open them, and even though I can’t see her, I feel her inside me. She’s in the apartment I couldn’t bear to vacate and in every beat of my drum as I try to drown out her presence with music.

  This band is my saving grace. It’s the one thing helping me keep it all together. I think it’s also the reason why the North Dragons haven’t come banging on my door demanding I rejoin the ranks of their organization. Having someone famous is always beneficial. Fame offers pull—connections—when the Feds come knocking on the door.

  I’m not famous though. Not yet anyway. And I’m well aware the streets of New York are infested with a lot more than just rats. The city that never sleeps often turns a blind eye to reality. Everything is billable, profitable, especially integrity, and the Dragons aren’t an exception.

  I’d even wager they are the rule. They are much worse than the Mafia or local gangs because they play differently. Their tactics are superior, and not even the Mafia has a grasp on how infiltrated they are—how many secrets they have on everyone in the fucking city. That’s the thing wi
th secret societies. If you aren’t in it, and you know about it, you’re either being paid or dead. And they aren’t afraid to take out anyone in the way.

  Honor is a lot different when people wipe their asses with hundred-dollar bills. Rich assholes, who count wealth by employees and not by cash, don’t necessarily care for scruples. Their moral compass is always pointed up. On every board of directors, there’s a dragon, swaying things in the right direction: north.

  The goal of the North Dragons is always to move upward. And the Council makes sure of it. The Inner Circle, the people they’ve initiated into their ranks, have privileges. Each novice has to go through four rings be entering the fifth inner circle. The first ring starts with the name of an enemy— one you have to be willing to destroy by any means necessary, except death. Death is far too easy.

  I gave them the name of my step-father, who currently sits in a mental institution, in a padded room. I took his fear and killed his mind with it, and I’d do it again. What he did to my little brother, no man should be pardoned for. The second ring was easier. We were each buried alive, a bell attached to our fingers, and told only the top three made it forward. The instruction was simple: when you can’t breathe, ring the bell. The top three to withstand died. The test was for intelligence, not endurance. That one came next and then finally the last one. Truth, where the judges were the Council.

  Members were affiliates. Connections. And the Den was how we kept tabs on some of them. Sex, Drugs, Power, Money… We supply everything without fail, but consumption comes with a different price.