Page 17 of Precious Legacy

Not even the issues at The Laundromat can dampen my mood, and that was a bitter pill to swallow at four o’clock in the morning. It’s something I need to address later. For now, I’m just going to revel in the fact I’ve just knocked out a brick in Alanis’ metaphorical wall. Eventually, she’s going to cave, and I can’t wait for that moment.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but her hatred just spurs me on. This push and pull we’ve got going on is a fucking turn on, and despite what she may claim, we’re definitely not over.She just needs to be reminded—over and over—of that. And if she needs convincing, my dick’s up for the challenge.

“So, what d’ya think?” Haldon asks as he gives me the grand tour of the empty factory building.

I snap out of my little daydream and focus on our footsteps clicking against the concrete. The sound echoes through the vast open space, the tempo bringing a subtle calmness over the expansive room.

I take in the peeling paint and rusty pipes, wrinkling my nose at the stench that clings to the spray painted walls. Rotten garbage is strewn across the ground, decorated with the heavy sprinkling of cigarette butts and discarded needles. Despite the state of the venue, I can already envision the potential. The carnage, the blood and sweat, and hopefully, tears. The place could do with a decent clean up first though, that’s for sure. But then again, it’s only going to get destroyed in the chaos anyway, so what’s the fucking point?

“Yeah, this could work,” I tell my best friend, slapping his shoulder.

“Good,” he laughs. “Because the other one was in worse condition.”

“Worse than this?” Alvaro asks, blowing out a low whistle as he takes in the state of the interior. “That’s a bold statement.”

Haldon rolls his eyes, shoving Alvaro playfully. “When are you thinking about opening, Ro?”

“A month,” I murmur, narrowing my eyes on the balcony that overlooks the floor. It’s high enough to see the entire layout below, but it’s set back, giving plenty of room to provide a VIP section. The factory floor itself isn’t in too poor of a condition. Once we get some cleaners in to take out the bulk of the trash and discarded furniture, this place will look a hell of a lot better. All it needs is a bar, some seating and tidying up of the changing areas, and I’ve got myself a venue.

A smile curls my lips at the potential of this place. With a few good men supplied by Alvaro and some decent liquor provided by Haldon, we’re going to have a profitable business on our hands.

“A month is long enough to get a guest list together,” Haldon comments in agreement.

I nod in acknowledgment. Since I’ve only just returned to the city, I’m relying on his connections to get this fight club seen by the right people; gamblers and fighters alike. The rest will fall into place, so for now we don’t need to worry about cleaning money or getting drugs through the door. If it happens, then so be it. But we’re going to focus on the fights until it runs itself.

The sound of footsteps joining us has me spinning around, abruptly cutting off our conversation. A relieved sigh escapes me when I see it’s only my Uncle Cillian. Since my chat with my dad the other day, I was wondering when he would make an appearance. He’s difficult to get ahold of on the best of days, so I’m surprised to see him so soon. Then again, he always shows up when you least expect him to. It’s what makes him good at what he does.

Cillian O’Sullivan is a ghost. Well… most of the time. His talent is finding out information you never knew you needed and exposing information that you do. He flies under the radar unsuspectingly, which is surprising considering his appearance. He always looks like he’s about to attend a motorcycle rally, dressed in his typical leather jacket and dark jeans, with tattoos covering most of his skin. Yet even though he looks like a thug, he still manages to get the job done undetected.

For the past twenty years, he’s been a valuable asset to The Five, and now it’s my turn to ask for my uncle’s services.

“About time,” I remark, giving him a fist bump.

“Is that all you’ve got for your uncle?” He barks a laugh. “Come here!”

Before I can step out of his reach, he yanks me in by my suit collar, his thick arms suffocating me in a hug.

That’s the other thing about my uncle. Despite his appearance, he’s every bit the hugger.

Me? Not so much.

“Your dad said you needed me?” Cillian drawls, offering both Haldon and Varo a nod of acknowledgement.

“Yeah,” I reply, clearing the dust from my throat. “I’m having issues with The Laundromat.”

“Issues?” He quirks a brow.

“We paid them a visit,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to where my best friends are pointing at the rafters and discussing some shit about decor and layout. “Someone was skimming from the profits, which I had handled, but now the shop’s been closed down.”

I don’t really care about the business closing. If anything, the host is the one losing money and not me—but the fact I paid a visit only a few days ago and now the cops are crawling all over the place is making me question the loyalty of others.

Uncle Trigger left the dens to me so he could… fuck, I don’t even know. But it’s my job to ensure that the city knows who’s handling shit and what happens if you don’t comply. The owner of The Laundromat will be bankrupt—if he isn’t already—while this inconvenience won’t even dentourbank account.

Still, I need to find out what happened, and I know Cillian is just the man to investigate that for me.

“Cops?” Cillian asks, pulling out a cigarette from his jacket before lighting it.

“All over the place,” I reply swiftly.

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