Page 28

“To the Yacht Club.” I glanced out over the water beneath the bridge we were currently passing over, which was the only way on and off Vert Island. It had a toll system that kept most of the poorer population in the city away from the estates and the people who owned them.

“Why?” Ridge demanded.

“You’ll see, boy. Now sit back and shut up.” I sent him a pointed look, and he grunted, falling against the seat too hard. He curled his arms around Saint and yanked him along for the ride, and Saint gasped in surprise.

“Stop moving so much,” Ridge growled out. “You’re making my boner worse.”

I snorted in amusement and focused on the road. The Yacht Club was at the end of Church Street in the city, past a public library.

From the front, the club didn’t look like much. It was housed in a steel building dominated by massive windows on both floors. Off to one side was a marina for people who pretended they knew about boats. No, it wasn’t the outside that made it special. Inside was a getaway like no other, with excellent service, staff who knew when to look the other way, and a relaxing atmosphere.

I drove to the entrance where a valet met me. I didn’t talk to Ridge or Saint as I slid out of the McLaren, but they knew to follow me. The young man who took the keys from me stared wide eyed at my pet and boy, but he kept his mouth shut.

I led Saint and Ridge through the arched wooden door that was opened for us by another employee and into the wide entryway. To the left was the gaming lounge with poker machines and other gambling, and to the right was a five-star restaurant. The host who met us was a man in his late seventies with a blond comb-over, wearing a crisp white suit. As soon as he saw me, he offered a kind smile.

“Welcome, Mr. Godfrey. How can we accommodate you today?” His name was Jeffrey with a J. I prided myself on learning the employees’ names because it would always benefit us in the end. They knew the ins and outs of our small world full of money almost better than we did, and Jeffrey was particularly helpful in pointing out who I should get to know and who I should stay away from.

I grinned at him and offered my hand, and he took it in a firm shake. “Good morning, Jeffrey. I know it’s early, but me and my boys would like to start with a conversation and a drink. We’ll visit the second floor.”

“Of course, sir. Let me lead you up there and help you secure a good seat.” He went to move, but I shook my head. I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and slipped it into his palm.

“That won’t be necessary today, Jeff. I know exactly where we’ll be sitting.”

Jeffrey merely smiled again and gestured toward the stairs. If he saw the collar Saint was wearing, he didn’t comment on it as we walked past him and toward the steps. As soon as we were on the second floor, my gaze narrowed in on my targets.

Ms. Winters could regularly be found at the Yacht Club with one of her favorite people, Sapphira McKinnon. I’d asked Omri to stake out the club in his free time since the day I’d taken in Saint and had instructed him to call me if they showed up, which he’d done this morning before heading off. While the two women made it their mission not to be predictable, this was one of the few times they were. In terms of safety, the Yacht Club had it all, with security that most establishments would be jealous of, not only in the form of armed guards, but with cameras and other safety measures that kept their VIPs protected. I wasn’t sentimental enough to think all that precaution was purely for the members, though. The safe that held the money from the gambling profits was probably pretty important to the owner.

Ms. Winters and Sapphira had brought their own backup, with three Harlots sitting in a set of leather armchairs at the next table over, along with a couple of discreetly armed Courtesan Hotel security guards that I recognized.

It was easy to see why the two ladies enjoyed being here. The second floor of the Yacht Club made an attempt at a luxurious atmosphere by having a glowing glass bar as a centerpiece, which resembled ice because of the blue illumination beneath it. Black leather chairs and couches surrounded each low table and the lights were kept dim. It reminded me of caves I’d explored in my younger years. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on the sparkling Lake Ontario.

There were a few people in the room enjoying an early drink, including two men I knew as Merit and Creed. They gave me a small nod of acknowledgement as I glanced at them, and I returned it. I didn’t talk to them often because Creed—or Creedence Clearwater as I liked to call him in my head—was a shrink, and I’d always had an aversion to therapists, since my parents had forced me and Gracelyn into marriage counseling before it had come out that she’d cheated on me.

“Dad.” Ridge nudged me and nodded toward the ladies. “That is them, right?”

My mouth curled into a smirk. “Yes.” I strode toward the ladies, ignoring the small, frightened whine that came from Saint. I didn’t look back to see if the boys were following because I knew they would.

As I reached the ladies, the Harlots and guards sitting at the nearby table stood immediately, but both women held up their hands, and their little soldiers returned to their seats. In terms of looks, both were beautiful, even though they were complete opposites. While Ms. Winters was blonde with fair skin and a voluminous body, Sapphira contrasted her with natural curly black hair and a flawless deep obsidian complexion. If I’d been interested in finding a new wife, either one would’ve been worth considering.

Sapphira, for her part, appeared to be more serious than Ms. Winters, with her leather biker jacket and pursed lips, but I knew better. The Southern lady sitting next to her was just as quick to order a hit. Sapphira didn’t hide her weapons, while Ms. Winters was more secretive about it. She liked to pretend she was a courteous lady with manners, but I wouldn’t put it past her to slice a man’s neck herself.

Ms. Winters tilted her head and smiled charmingly. “Mr. Godfrey, it has been far too long since I’ve seen you at the Courtesan Hotel.”

I offered her a charismatic grin of my own and bowed my head slightly. “You’ll have to forgive me, Ms. Winters. I’ve been very busy cleaning up my brother’s mess.”

She nodded in sympathy. “Sometimes family can cause more problems than enemies.”

Sapphira snorted beside her and glanced around me at Saint, eyebrows inching higher. She shot a look at one of her girls—with a septum piercing and plenty of curves—who nodded at her. When Sapphira got an answer to the silent question, she returned her attention to us and waved at Saint. “This is Johnny Godfrey’s son?”

“Do you mind if I sit?” I didn’t wait for them to reply and took the seat beside Ms. Winters. I pointed at the floor beside me. “Pup, right here. Boy, pull up a chair.”

Saint let out another small whine but went to his knees beside my thigh, peeking up at Sapphira with an understandable nervousness, while Ridge grabbed a leather chair from another table before dragging it to the other side of Saint and falling onto it.

“To answer your question, Ms. McKinnon, yes, this is my brother’s son. He’s now my pet.” I smoothed my hand over Saint’s head, smiling tenderly down at him. “And this other young man is my boy.”

Sapphira glowered at me with an accusing stare, pursing her mouth harder. Her patience was clearly running out. Ms. Winters seemed only slightly better contained, but her agitation washed over her face before it quickly smoothed away. They were good friends and rumors said they always backed each other’s decisions. I had to placate not only one, but both of them, or suffer the consequences.

Ms. Winters chuckled. “You have tamed him?”