Drug Lord Read online

  Drug Lord

  Mila DeRosa

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Meet Mila

  Join the VIP club

  Also by Mila DeRosa

  Copyright © 2019 by Mila DeRosa

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For the love of my life

  Chapter 1

  “Remember, don’t make eye contact or else you’ll end up in a gutter.”

  Bryn sucked in a breath as she slid the tray loaded with drinks from the bar. Not making eye contact was the easy part—balancing glasses filled to the brim and weaving her way through the crowded room was more of a challenge.

  Not upending the tray before she took her first step was an accomplishment. One handed may have been the preferred carrying technique, but with the weight of her load, there was no way that was going to happen.

  “Oh, and Bryn.” Sally flashed her a sympathetic smile. “It’d help if you breathe.” No doubt, she experienced a similar sense of dread on her first time entering the VIP section of the nightclub.

  Open and exposed for all to see, as if royalty on display—to be admired—Reeves Walker, and his partners in crime, seemed oblivious to those around them.

  There was no questioning Highfliers had filled the club’s legal quota of guests for the evening and doubled it. But that was on someone else’s head, all Bryn had to do was pick a path to her destination and hope her tray wasn’t sent flying by an uncoordinated dance move.

  A few women dripped from the mostly male group. Perfectly made up faces and manicured finger nails, complimented designer clothes and sexy stiletto heels, like a trade mark, set those of the in-crowd apart from the clingers on.

  Reeves Walker, like the show-stopping centerpiece was seated in the midst of the elite. White leather low line modular sofas, sleek and every bit as stylish as those seated upon it lined the walls, giving the vibe of seclusion and intimacy, in the busy club.

  Designer labels weren’t exclusive to the women. The fit of a well-cut Armani suit emphasized what she could only imagine to be a ripped body many women had delighted in running their hands over. She didn’t have to be close to Reeves to imagine he smelt as expensive as he looked, splashed with a heady fragrance to compliment his charm.

  He’d not long been settled with his four most regular buddies when the women began to descend. A slight nod of his head was enough of an invitation to step over the threshold and into the cream. Reeves Walker the delectable cherry on top.

  Laced with poison, Bryn couldn’t imagine why a woman with any common sense would willingly risk the allure, but over the past two weeks of working the bar she’d witnessed the game over again. Acceptance into the circle meant a ticket to his bed. His reputation wasn’t rumor. Practically every night he left with a different woman. Bryn doubted he was being hospitable, ensuring they arrived home safe. He was a free agent to entertain whoever he pleased, but what she couldn’t understand was the willingness of women who frequented the club in hope of becoming the next notch on his belt. Surely even they realized that Reeves Walker was the master player, and he lined them up like pawns.

  The only alteration she wished he’d make to his practice was that he sat in a position other than the one he occupied, so he was more easily accessible when waited upon.

  No sooner had she spied an opening in the crowd, making delivery of the drinks a possibility, it filled by a couple too caught up in each other to realize they were a hindrance.

  Just my luck. There was no longer an easy way of serving him first, at least, not without putting the tray down on the table in front of him.

  Bryn weighed up her options, risk spilling a full tray of drinks into the club owners lap, or set it down and smear his precious glass topped table—the perfect surface for cutting and lining up cocaine. Not a grain of dust need be missed when snorting from the polished black top, not to mention the ego trip as consumers watched themselves ingest the powdery substance in its reflection.

  She knew drugs, almost as intimately as the Lord and every trick in his book, having been exposed to a scene many would class as a disadvantage. Bryn saw it as a constant reminder of what she’d never become. Employed to serve drinks in a drug lords club wasn’t the worse she could do. The money she worked for was earned, even if it was dished out by the hands of one who put his needs before the safety of others.

  Super model good looks with chiseled jaw and rich as dark chocolate hair she’d enjoy nothing more than to rake her fingers through. He was the prize most women came to Highfliers in hope of winning. Not Bryn. A tough guy she could handle, even one so good-looking, it was the reptilian ice interior that was incapable of fulfilling her needs.

  She needed this job, so her next move was important. Another glance confirmed there to be no easy way to get around the mobs, so the glass table top it was.

  Keeping her line of sight at shoe level, she slid her way between two women, who were clearly absorbed in the men seated on their opposite side, and set the tray down.

  A gasp from the woman to her left, despite the blaring music, caused attention like a spotlight on a solo act.

  Bryn glanced up, jade green eyes, as mesmerizing as any drug he offered, met her gaze and held. Her lips parted and before giving any thought as to whom she was addressing, she smiled. “Seems you already had a shower, I didn’t think you’d appreciate a sticky mess in your lap.” Alternative meanings popped into her head as soon as the words escaped her mouth. She diverted her eyes, remembering Sally’s caution only moments earlier, but not before witnessing a smile tease the corner of his lips.

  Swiping a cardboard coaster from the stack on her tray, she set it down on the pristine surface and placed his scotch on top. The order in which the drinks had been positioned so they made it to their rightful owner, no longer made sense. Since breaking the eye contact rule, she was certain her position as a waitress was currently up for grabs. A few mixed up drinks could do her no more damage so she dished them out as quickly as possible.

  Before turning away, she stole another glance at Reeves. He was watching her, green eyes piercing the outer layer and she clenched to her core under his scrutiny. It wasn’t any wonder staff weren’t permitted to look him in the eye. This man possessed the ability to be the undoing of even the toughest of dealers; she’d be like a midnight snack to him.

  She shuddered. Sexy he may be, but the cruel dangerous reputation was enough to chill the warmth from her blood. With her head held high, and the deliberate sway of her hips with each step she took, Bryn walked over to where Sally stood watching her. “If I finish the night, do I still get paid?” She placed the tray on top of the bar and folded her arms across her chest.

  If Sally weren’t her mentor, Bryn would’ve been intimidated under her constant watch.

  With head tipped back, Sally let out a loud burst of laughter. “When his Lordship has a hard time fighting back a smile, from what was the most average delivery of drinks I’ve ever seen, I’d say you might have earned yourself immunity.”

  “But I looked him in the ey
e.”

  Sally picked up the tray from the bar and wiped it clean with a damp cloth. “You call that looking him in the eye?” She shook her head. “Honey, you all but ogled him.” Laughter followed as she handed the tray back to Bryn. “My bet is, before the night is through, you’ll be Reeves Walker’s requested waitress.” She turned to walk away, then stopped. “And, Bryn, that’s exactly where you want to be.” She winked, before attending to a waiting customer.

  * * *

  Reeves Walker liked what he saw. Slick as a panther’s coat, black leather pants clung to the new waitresses hips to reveal a tight package obviously not shy of a workout.

  Highfliers was one of six nightclubs he owned. He hired people to make the simple decisions, and paid them well to get it right. Whoever added this beauty to the payroll deserved a raise. Sex appeal overshadowed lousy waitressing skills even he was willing to overlook.

  Eyes as warm as toffee locked with his. The defiance she tried to conceal amused him, as if any part of her life experienced was comparative to his own. Not shy to challenge him, she was the only employee he’d encountered who dare strip him bare with a look not unlike that he dished out.

  Intrigued, he had no intention of giving her the sack on account of smudging the surface of his glass top table intended for cutting and lining up coke. The heady high she inflicted from one gaze was enough for him to second guess his need for a hit to satisfy him tonight, but he dismissed the thought moments after it sprung to mind.

  She was a waitress for Christ sakes. He glanced around at the women he had on offer. Those not paid to serve him, but those who did so for wanting him.

  Not one of them made him reel as she had. Natural beauty more appealing than the painted up plastic he was used to.

  Familiar eyes framed by a face he didn’t recognize. If she’d been a part of the crowd before becoming a member of staff he would have noticed and, no doubt, invited her to accompany him back to his bed after closing.

  He snatched his glass from the table and downed its contents in one go. His desire for entertainment diminished. The heat of quality liquor warmed him, as the pick of the bunch would have warmed his bed for the night, if that were his intention.

  Emotional connections were not something he entertained with the women he took to bed. They served their purpose on one occasion, and even then they often overstayed their welcome. The torture of the morning coffee ritual was something he endured out of obligation—good for business. Even though he had the reputation of a satyr, every last one of them lingered, in hope they were capable of breaking through the barrier to steal his heart.

  Detachment was his way. It was the only way he had ever known and so far it was working for him. He had no intention of changing that for the sake of anyone. Some might call him selfish, but he saw it more as being true. He had no room in his life for the disruptions that came of having a permanent presence getting in the way of things. He’d been alone for too long to let a woman step in and turn his world into a whirlwind, especially one who was of his staff. It’d end up far too complicated. He paid people to clean up the mess in his life, not to create it.

  Music pumped from the stage, making it impossible to hear the conversation around him. Small talk and pick up lines didn’t spark his interest, so his thoughts diverted to more pressing matters.

  Doug, his business partner and the only person Reeves trusted, sat on the sofa at the end closest to the bar. Recently married, he and his wife were still in the honeymoon phase. Limbs wrapped around limbs, seemingly oblivious to the fact they were in a public place. Kylie had been a club goer when they met. The difference being, the moment he laid eyes on her Doug swore, if he were lucky enough to pull her, he’d never let her go. And he hadn’t.

  All he needed was Doug to get cold feet and pull the pin on their operation and he’d be screwed. Relying on others wasn’t the way he liked to conduct business, but he’d made an exception for his friend who was more like a brother—the closest to family Reeves had.

  Catching Sally’s attention he signaled for another drink, and was only too pleased when she sent the new waitress to deliver it to him.

  The sway was back as she made her way over. So close, he breathed in her scent—crisp and cool, as was she—as she leaned around him to switch his empty glass with a full one.

  Eyes narrowed, she made a conscious effort not to look at him, but failed when he reached out and grasped her by one wrist. He expected intimidation to be evident in her expression, but the look in her eyes held an edge of something he couldn’t quite place. Warning, perhaps. Was she daring him to make a move?

  “You’re new?” The first thing out of his mouth wasn’t going to win him points on intellect.

  She arched one eyebrow and she glanced down at her wrist he still had hold of.

  There was no doubt, it was going to take time, this one was in need of some taming. “What’s your name?”

  “Bryn.”

  That was it? Deadpan stare and pissed off tone, the delivery of her name offered in much the same way as he offered women a cup of coffee the morning after—out of obligation.

  Chapter 2

  Reeves’ cocky manner still had her riled up the next morning, as she lay back ready to be plucked and primed by Jodie. The benefits of having a beauty therapist for a best friend went beyond the normal boundaries of friendship. Bryn’s appearance became of the utmost importance to someone else, and another thing she didn’t have to think about.

  “Honestly, Jodie, you should have heard the way he spoke to me, like I’d fall over backwards wanting him as all the other women in that establishment do.” She winced as Jodie ripped a wax strip from her bikini line.

  “Well, you have to admit, they have good reason. The guy is ridiculously sexy. I certainly wouldn’t object to him owning me.”

  “Reeves Walker doesn’t own his women, he claims them and discards them just as quickly. I’ve never seen him entertain the same one twice.”

  “There’s a challenge for you.”

  The warm wax smeared on her skin was as inviting as the tearing of hairs from the follicle was dreaded. No matter how many times the process was repeated, it never failed to cause her pain. “You’ve got to be joking, I’m not interested in being added to his long list of bedded women. That’s really not my style, you should know that.”

  “Okay, then what is your style?”

  Bryn shrugged, not wanting to discuss her love life, or lack of it, any further.

  “I’ll tell you what it is—non-existent, that’s what. The only one you have to blame for that is yourself.”

  “And, you are the only one who has a problem with it. Perhaps you should shift your focus to your own love-life and worry a little less about mine.” It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the fuss Jodie made over her, it was nice to know she cared, but she didn’t need the likes of Reeves Walker to mess up her life. He was a constant reminder of what she didn’t want, and nothing Jodie said would convince her otherwise. Yes, he was sexy, but getting caught up with him would be like doing dealings with the devil himself.

  Besides, lying low wouldn’t be an option if she got mixed up with a hotshot drug lord as Reeves. Even the media were keen to keep him on their radar. Becoming his man-bag certainly wasn’t the way to keep a near non-existent profile and to blend in with the world she wanted out of. There was one reason she was still a part of it, and one reason only—to keep her enemies close.

  “All I’m saying is it’d do you some good to loosen up and—” Jodie paused before tearing the wax from her in one swift movement intended to minimize pain, but with little success.

  “Ouch. Are you almost done?” Bryn pressed up and glanced down to see for herself.

  “Finished,” she announced as she turned to tidy up her workbench.

  Bryn sat the rest of the way up, and swung her legs over the edge of the treatment table. “So, how are things with Josh? You given him the flick yet?” There was no point hiding her
open disdain for the boy who’d broken her best friends heart all the way into adulthood. Strong and outgoing in so many ways, Bryn couldn’t understand why Jodie would allow him to treat her like a wastrel.

  “Please don’t start on the you deserve better speech. I don’t need to hear it right now.” When she turned, Bryn noticed her eyes pooled with tears and her bottom lip trembled.

  Outwardly expressing emotion wasn’t something Bryn knew what to do with, having grown up in a household where tears were for the weak, and the weak were punished. She’d developed a thick skin, and avoided emotional situations where possible, but to see Jodie vulnerable was the exception.

  “Oh, Jode, what’s going on? Talk to me.” She slid to a stand and wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug.

  “I screwed up. He’s never going to forgive me.” The sound of a sob caught in her throat, as she tried to suck in a breath between her words, layered with a truth Bryn didn’t doubt.

  Nothing Jodie had done could even begin to compare with the evil that dripped from the good-for-nothing she’d been caught up with for too long, Bryn was sure, but Jodie didn’t need to hear that. All she needed was someone to comfort her in hope that eventually she would wake up and see the destruction he left in his path.

  Bryn tightened her embrace around Jodie’s shaking body. In some ways she couldn’t bare the thought of what could possibly be so wrong. Josh had done some terrible things in the past, but never had Jodie broken down like this in front of her before.

  “What’d he do to you?” She rubbed her back and spoke into her hair. “We’ll work this out.”

  “He warned me. Over and over, he warned. He’s never been any different. I knew that.”

  The short bursts of partial sentences were hard to piece together, as though corner pieces of a puzzle. Letting it out was better than bottling it up, even if she was speaking in riddles, so Bryn didn’t interrupt her babble.