Raw (RAW Family #1)(45)

Placing the bunched tissue on his nose, he answers, “Should I be?”

Honesty. “Yes.”

Nodding, he looks me in the eyes. “Okay. That’s good then. I am scared of you.”

I like this kid. His smart mouth would normally annoy me. But with him, it doesn’t. Unfolding the note, I look down and read.

You want a war, you got one.

I know the answer before I ask, but I feel I have to confirm this. War is a big deal. To some.

“This from Hamid or Frank?”

Frank’s a *. He would never do something like this. His power was handed down from his father. I know for a fact he doesn’t want the position he was given. I mean, he is a mob prince. He’s an Italian mob prince who’s in love with a Russian mob princess. If I were him, I’d f*cking shoot myself.

Michael looks at me through wide eyes and I sigh, “Hamid, you stupid f*cker.”

This is definitely more Hamid’s speed. He works off fear tactics. Which is not unlike myself, but my presence alone instils that in the people around me. I don’t ever have to prove it. And if I do, they usually lose. Their lives, I mean. Hamid is an Iranian, sly f*cking rat. He’d attack you while your back is turned. The guy is power hungry. Fuck drugs. Power is his drug of choice. And one day, it’ll be the death of him.

Narrowing my eyes at my new PA, I ask in interest, “If you had a choice to do something to Hamid without there being any consequences, what would you do?”

Michael’s eyes darken a shade. “I’d take his eye out. With something rusty. And blunt.”

My lips tip up at the side. I knew I liked this kid.

Pulling out my phone, I ignore the message received and call Happy. As soon as he answers, I keep my eyes on Michael and tell my business partner, “We got an issue that needs to be dealt with. Pronto.”

Happy responds, “What’s up?”

“We’re taking the kid off site for…” I smirk, “…training. We need ten men. Armed with something visible. Something big.”

Happy laughs, “Oh shit. Someone’s gonna get f*cked up.”

Smiling, I bite the tip of my tongue. “Hell yeah. You down with that?”

Happy turns serious, “You know I got your back, bro. Always.”

And he does. I don’t know where I’d be without Happy or Julius.

I simply respond, “Ten minutes.”

Placing the corner of my phone in the dip in my chin, I hold it there a moment, lips pursed in thought. Pointing the phone at Michael, I tell him, “Get your face sorted. We start training in ten minutes.”

The look of disbelief on his face is funny. So funny that I chuckle, walk over to him, and clap him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna love it.”

I walk out of my office wearing a grin.





Taking three SUV’s over to the warehouse being used to package Hamid’s gear puts on enough of a show that the man comes out to greet us himself.

Hamid stands at the delivery dock wearing a cocky smirk, black slacks, and a black shirt. His hair spiked in a youthful style, there is nothing about this man that would lead to you guessing his background. His pale skin, green almond-shaped eyes, average height, and black hair shows nothing of his Iranian culture.

As all three cars come to a stop, and all ten visibly-armed men, plus one beaten adolescent exit the vehicles, I swear he begins to sweat.

He should be.

He’ll remember today for as long as he lives.

Waiting for my men to form a line behind me, I click my fingers at Michael, then point to my side. He joins me quickly enough. Happy stands on his free side, forming a protective barrier around my newest employee.

As soon as Hamid sees this, he knows he’s made a mistake. His eyes flash, then narrow in confusion, then widen as he swallows hard.

We approach the nervous man. He greets us, “Salam, Twitch. Happy. To what do I owe this pleasure?” His thick accent a reminder that he’s only lived in Australia a few short years.

This pisses me off. My eye twitches as I grit my teeth and say in dead calm, “You declared war. And beat my personal assistant, making him late for his first day. I think you know exactly why I’m here, Hamid. You dare greet us with the Persian word for peace?”

Yeah, that’s right, f*ckhead. I know what salam means.

Hamid’s smile falls. “I did not realize he was an employee of yours. The boy—”

Michael cuts him off, “Actually, boss, it’s the first thing I told him.”

And I want to burst into laughter at the look of discomfit on Hamid’s face. Truly, I’m not as angry as I could be, but this man needs a lesson in what happens when you f*ck with me and mine.

You have to be prepared for war should you declare it.

“Is this true?” I ask Hamid.

Glaring at Michael, he answers, “I thought the boy was lying to get out of work. I also believed you were poaching my men, starting with this one.” His fingers motion in Michael’s direction. “Obviously, I was wrong. I apologize.”

Nodding, I gesture to the warehouse. “I think we need to talk about more than just that. Don’t you?”

Not trusting my calm tone, his eyes narrow on me for only a moment before he smiles, “Of course. Please come in.”