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“Stay.” She smiled. “We can play.”
Her tone left no doubt that she wasn’t talking about pool. As I shot her a look, my mind turned to the red halter top clinging to my petite office assistant, and a mass of blonde hair with gentle curls. And huge, green eyes that were always laughing at me.
“I’m working.” I sidestepped the woman, and headed for the door.
“We’d have fun, big guy. The hot and sweaty kind.”
I waved a hand without looking back.
“I like fun,” Lenny called out.
I heard the woman snort. “No, thanks.”
I loaded Lenny into the back of my Suburban. It didn’t take long to drop him off at the New Orleans lockup.
Soon, I was headed back to the Warehouse District. To home.
It was nice to be back after several days away, chasing the scum of the Earth. My hands flexed on the wheel. After seeing the worst of what humanity could do, it was nice to get back to my daughter and my brothers. Daisy’s smile went a long way to making me feel clean.
I’d sure as hell come a long way from where I’d been born. If I hadn’t found my brothers, I could have ended up being the one tracked down by bounty hunters.
I’d been born in a small town in St. Bernard parish. My parents had both been bayou rats, with a liking for white powder. One day, after a rip-roaring argument, my daddy had shot my mom and killed her. He’d gone to jail, and I’d gone into the system.
I’d ended up in some good foster homes, and some shitty ones. Nineteen in total. Eventually, as a sullen teen who’d taken no bullshit, I had ended up in the home of the Tuckers.
The couple had not been nice people. They’d sold the story that they took in wayward boys that no one else wanted to deal with. In reality, Harvey Tucker liked beating boys, while his wife preferred verbal abuse.
You’re nothing, boy. Trash.
You’re a blight on society. You deserve nothing.
No one cares about you, boy. No one ever will.
My hands flexed on the steering wheel again. One good thing had come of being in the Tuckers’ home. I’d met my brothers.
The five of us had bonded, escaping the Tuckers after joining together to stop Harvey Tucker’s savage beating of our brother, Reath.
They weren’t my brothers by blood, but by choice. We’d run away together, and when we could, we’d changed our surnames to Fury. The one thing that had fueled us. Driven us. It had kept us surviving.
We’d all vowed to make a good life for ourselves.
And we had.
We owned a whole block in the Warehouse District, and we all ran our own successful businesses.
Yeah, we’d come a long way from the shitty childhood we’d escaped.
I parked in front of my office. The brick building had large windows with just my name, Colton Fury, etched on the glass.
I slid out. My converted warehouse sat behind the office, and connected with the family home my brothers and I had renovated as a central space for all of us. Daisy lived there with Lola, our godsend of a housekeeper. She took care of Daisy when I was away.
Dante and Reath both had adjoining warehouses. Dante’s nightclub and restaurants were down the block. Reath ran a security company a few doors down from my office. Beauden ran his gym—Hard Burn—and lived in the apartment above it.
And Kavner had built a slick office tower on the corner to house his billion-dollar businesses. He lived in the penthouse apartment.
I slid my hands into my pockets. Yeah, the Fury brothers had made it.
I pushed open the office door and music hit me. It was something bright and poppy, which made me wince.
