In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem #1)(14)

I emptied my bowl into the sink and put it into the washer before making my way down to my dad’s office. It dripped in opulence and power. You walked into my father’s office, and you knew a bad motherfucker owned this joint.

And he was.

The worst.

My father was the head of the Romanian Mafia, and so was my grandfather and his father and his grandfather and so on. We had tight alliances, but our strongest was and always would be with the Russians, or more importantly, the Romanov’s. Vladimir Pakhan Romanov is the Krestnii Otets of the Russian Bratva; he’s also my father’s oldest friend.

I kicked the door closed as I entered, surprised that Kill, Ky, and Keaton were already seated with their fathers behind them.

“What’s going on? Do we have another task?” I asked, looking pointedly at my dad. “I fucking hope so, because I’m in the killing kind of mood.”

Dad leaned over, pressing the palms of his hands against his executive style mahogany desk. “Just a quick one before you’re back on the road.” I watch as he reaches for a Brazilian cigar from the humidor and places it between his teeth. “Figured you might need the distraction.”





After folding all of my new clothes and putting them away in the small dresser that’s hidden in the closet, I flop back onto the bed and look around the small room. There’s nothing to it but a bed and a marble door that leads to the closet. I’m at the back of the RV, though, so the entire back wall is glass. I’m guessing it’s tinted, so people can’t see in; only, I can see out. The bed is my favorite—wide enough to fit five people comfortably and plush enough to liquefy your day into dreams. I have to admit, even being around all of the extravagance of the mansion and the riches of the atmosphere, I’m still taken aback by this RV. I originally came from money, so I know wealth when I see it, and this is wealth. These boys are rich, and every single person who performs in Midnight Mayhem oozes lavishness. I see it. This isn’t a normal carnival type vibe. There are no ex-cons or drunks. These people aren’t on the road to run away from something or someone; they’re on the road to chase people for the fuck of it. They’re here to make the mundane feel exotic, if only for a couple hours.

Sighing, I pick up the new phone Delila bought and set up for me and open up a Google search. I’ve been thinking about Delila and how I feel about her and Rose. Whether or not I should confide in them with what happened back on the yacht with the neon masked rapist. I want to. I feel dirty and violated from what he did to me, while knowing it could have been much worse. But another part of me doesn’t really know if I can trust anyone to confide in yet. No matter how close Rose and I are becoming, I’m still not comfortable enough to talk about it. I’ll deal with it in on my own, and then allow people in when I’m ready.

I type the club into my iPhone and grab the number from the search results before dialing Rich. Like both Delila and King said, I have agreed to be a part of this now, so there’s no going back.

“Rich, it’s me, Dove.”

Rich sighs. “Jesus, Dove. I’ve aged fifty years since you’ve been gone.”

“Well, we can’t have that. You’re already old as shit,” I joke, chuckling at myself.

He grunts. “I see you’ve expanded your vocabulary a little more.”

I lie back on my bed, my hand resting over my belly. I want to know how long I’ve been gone, but I don’t want to freak him out by openly asking it. “So, how’s the bar been since I’ve been gone?”

“Too busy. This last week has been busy. When are you coming back?”

One week. Okay, so twenty-two girls only equaled one week. Hearing Rich’s voice has calmed me to an extent. I feel like my life is twisting and turning, and I can’t quite grasp onto the things that are happening. Now I have to give him the news. “Ah, not anytime soon. I have been dragged into some…” I freeze, racking my brain for an excuse. “Family drama…” That’s the best I got.

“Family?” he asks, shocked. “Thought you didn’t have any.”

“Oh, I don’t, not really. This is not my birth family. One of my foster homes.” I know he wants to ask more questions, so I quickly cut him off. “I’m going to try to come home for a visit soon, but can you do me a favor?” I chew on my lip nervously. He doesn’t answer, but that’s nothing new with Rich. “Can you empty my room and sell everything?”

“What!” he yells. “What do you mean?”

I sigh, rolling to my belly. I loved living with Rich and helping him out with his girls, but I know that this is the right thing to do. I can’t be living there to help pay the rent, and I can’t go back to empty my room anytime soon. I know he will want someone in there soon to help pay the mortgage and take care of the girls. “I’m living here now. I can’t explain much, but can you please do this for me? Let the girls choose whatever they want. I know Angela wanted my iPad. She can have that. Sell the rest and donate the money to…” I pause, thinking over my next words. “Survivors of sexual abuse.”

Rich sighs. “All right, little lady. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Rich!” I spend the next five minutes going back and forth with him, catching up on the drama. He finally lets me go, and I hang up, rubbing my warm ear.