Chapter 80 Mercer
Dominic lifted his glass. “My cousin has found religion.”
“And I've found my limits,” Damien replied coldly.
Mercer glanced toward the dancers, then back to Damien. “You understand what you’re asking?”
“I do.”
“You want him arrested without witnesses, he will be charged quietly then moved to a facility where he can’t speak to anyone. No lawyers, no chance at deals.”
“Yes.”
Mercer leaned back. “That requires a story.”
Dominic chuckled. “There’s always a story.”
Mercer continued, “Traffic stop in Nevada. Drugs, weapons, resisting arrest. He disappears into the system under a different docket number.”
“And his connections?” Damien asked.
Mercer’s mouth tightened. “We cut them.”
Damien studied him. “How much?”
Mercer didn’t flinch. “Enough that you won’t see his face again.”
Dominic leaned closer to Damien. “You see? I told you he was useful.”
Damien ignored him. “When?”
“Tomorrow night,” Mercer said. “You’ll observe. You don’t touch him. You don’t speak to him.”
“I need to know he’s locked away.”
“You’ll see him transferred.”
A dancer approached their table, draping herself over Dominic’s shoulder. Dominic slipped a bill into her hand without looking. She smiled and moved away.
Mercer watched the exchange. “Your family lives dangerously.”
Damien’s jaw tightened. “Danger found us first.”
Silence stretched between them. The music boomed below, drowning out the world.
Mercer spoke again. “You could have handled this yourself. Why bring me into it?”
Damien’s fingers curled slowly around the edge of the table. “Because I don’t want blood on my hands when I return home.”
Mercer raised an eyebrow. “Home?”
“To my wife.”
Something shifted in Mercer’s expression. “You’re doing this for her.”
“Yes.”
Dominic scoffed softly. “Love makes men predictable.”
Damien turned to him. “And fear makes men weak. Which are you?”
Dominic laughed. “Still sharp.”
Mercer cleared his throat. “There is one condition.”
Damien looked back at him. “Name it.”
“You stay out of police business after this. Raymond is ours. No interference.”
Damien nodded once. “Agreed.”
Mercer stood. “Then it’s settled.”
Dominic rose as well, placing a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “I told you I would keep my side of the favor.”
Mercer adjusted his jacket. “I’ll send you the location. Midnight tomorrow.”
He turned and disappeared down the stairs, swallowed by music and bodies. Damien remained seated for a moment, staring at the glass table.
The dancers’ laughter sounded distant now, unreal.
Dominic poured himself another drink. “You’re walking a thin line, cousin.”
“I know.”
“You think this will keep you clean?”
Damien stood. “No. But it keeps her safe.”
Dominic did not let Damien leave right away.
Instead, he snapped his fingers once, sharply, and the velvet curtains at the far end of the private lounge were drawn back.
Six women stepped forward.
They moved in a line, slow and deliberate, like a display arranged for inspection.
They were dressed only in lace and silk—black, red, ivory—fabric clinging to their skin like smoke. Their hair fell in glossy waves down bare shoulders. Their expressions were carefully trained: sultry, obedient, distant.
Each of them stood tall, hands folded in front of her body, eyes lowered until Dominic gestured. “These,” Dominic said lazily, spreading his arms, “are my newest investments.”
Damien’s gaze hardened.
The music from downstairs throbbed through the floor, the bass vibrating under their feet. The scent of perfume and alcohol hung thick in the air.
Dominic walked in front of the women, circling them like merchandise. “Fresh. Clean. Loyal. I trained them myself.”
Damien didn’t respond.
Dominic stopped in front of the third girl in line—a brunette with nervous eyes and trembling fingers. He lifted her chin with two fingers.
“Show him,” Dominic ordered. “Let my cousin see your skills.”
The girl swallowed.
She stepped forward slowly, heels clicking against the marble floor. The music seemed to grow louder as she approached Damien, her hips swaying in time with the beat. She turned her back to him first, moving with practiced curves, then faced him again, her movements controlled but uncertain.
She lowered herself onto his lap.
Her body pressed against him, warm and shaking. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, beginning the slow rhythm she had clearly been taught—rolling her hips, leaning close, her breath brushing his jaw.
Damien’s entire body went rigid.
“This is not part of the agreement,” he said sharply, pushing his chair back.
The girl gasped as he stood abruptly, stumbling forward when the weight beneath her vanished. She nearly fell before catching herself on the table.
Damien remained standing, towering now, his eyes locked on Dominic.
Dominic exhaled a lazy stream of smoke from the thick cigarette between his fingers. “Sit down, cousin. You look offended.”
“I said I would stay,” Damien replied coldly. “I said I would see your girls. I did not agree to touch them.”
Dominic studied him for a moment, then waved his hand. “Enough. Out.”
The girls scattered instantly, disappearing behind the curtains like ghosts. Dominic dropped into his chair and pulled a heavy ledger book from beneath the table. He slammed it open.
“Business, then.”
Damien sat again, his jaw clenched. Dominic flipped pages. “The club is profitable. The dancers bring in more than expected and the arms shipments are steady.”
Damien skimmed the figures. “You’re making a fortune from flesh and fire.”
Dominic smiled. “Both sell.”
He leaned forward. “But I need more carriers. Girls who won’t ask questions.”
His eyes lifted slowly to Damien’s face. Expectation filled the space between them.
Damien inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “Two,” he said. “I’ll give you two. Then my first debt is paid.”
Dominic smirked. “Only two?”
“You’ll take it,” Damien replied calmly. “Or you’ll find someone else.”
A long silence passed. Then Dominic laughed. “Always bargaining. Fine. Two girls. One month.”
He raised his glass. “You always bring the best.”
Damien didn’t answer. He lifted his own glass and drank, already thinking of Jasmine, already calculating how to keep this filth far from her world.
Dominic stood and snapped his fingers. “Gustavo.”
Gustavo appeared instantly. “Take him back. Bring him again tomorrow night to the location where he meets Mercer, I'll be there as well”
Damien rose without another word.
As he followed Gustavo toward the exit, the music swallowed him again—the dancers, the smoke, the violence of it all.
And somewhere far away, in a quiet house, Jasmine slept. That thought was the only thing keeping him upright.