Page 7 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

It’s rare to see Papa this formally commanding. Butthat’s how you know he isn’t messing around. This is one hundred percent serious and any violation of his order will land you in an unmarked grave. The corners of my mouth attempt to smirk, the thought of killing gives me great thrill, but I then remind myself, these are our own, and it would be devastating.

No one objects, the room sits silent, and all eyes remain focused on us. He has the ability to command everyone's attention and keep it.

“Good. Now that we have that covered, high-level updates.” Papa snaps his fingers and sits back in his chair, sucking back on his cigar with his eyes on Greta, giving her a curt nod to begin.

“Similar to Nathaniel, I have decided it’s time to step back completely from The Ranch. I’m getting too old to deal with small dicks. Rylee has fully stepped in since the rebuild and I will officially transfer the deed to the house, licenses, and land into her name within the week.” Greta smiles with pride and the room claps, congratulating Rylee while also celebrating Greta. She’s a fucking icon. I wish she would write an autobiography one day, because I would eat that shit up. The things this woman has seen, been through, legendary.

Looking over to Rylee, I give her a quick wink and smile. After the original Ranch was burned down, we helped Greta rebuild her dynasty. In return we took a ten-percent stake in it and the rest is history. It’s one of the businesses I can truly stand behind with pride. It empowers and employs people of all genders and sexualorientation. And it gives them a safe place to conduct business while feeling free.

I’m so excited for Rylee, she has plenty of fresh ideas and plans that she has been implementing and testing out, all the while keeping the legacy in place. Everyone there loves her. They love Greta, but Rylee is bringing The Ranch into this century. It’s such an exciting time. Fuck, if I didn't have this gig lined up or my slaughterhouse, I would have seriously considered working there. Maybe as an enforcer you hear about in Vegas, where they fuck shit up in the backroom and you never see the asshole again. I would have excelled at that job. But alas, here we are. Maybe I can offer my services on the side, I wonder if that would be frowned upon?

Dad interrupts my happy butterflies and rainbows thought with a snide comment directed to Greta. “Next, you can move out of my fucking house.”

“Oh, I won’t be leaving until you move my dead cold body from your side of the bed,” Greta counters casually, waving dad off.

“I can arrange that tonight.”

My mom jumps in to only make things more uncomfortable between the two. “I’ve always said that you two need to fuck your feelings out and move on. This sexual tension is becoming unbearable.”

The room snickers, and Greta smiles then winks at my dad who is holding up his middle finger.

Once the commotion subsides, Papa asks, “Shall we continue?”

The rest of the room speaks, giving a brief overview of their operations, including drugs, politicians, law enforcement, academia, security and legal businesses; primarily all the places we launder our money through. Uncle Thomas clears his throat as he is the last to speak. After spending years under my dad learning the trade, we decided to put him in charge of information gathering because of how well he blends in. The guy was born with very generic exterior qualities, never sticking out. If we suspect a rat or hear rumblings of whispers and secret discussions, we send him in to gather the intel. Uncle Thomas has a small team under him for stakeouts, lookouts, and recon work, which includes Abi, our own version of a man of mystery.

With his hands in his pants pockets, leaning against the wall next to Greta, he speaks, “Sid was kind enough to handle the recent threat we caught.”

I smile proudly, but I would do this shit for fun, regardless.

“Yes, and Blaise is handling the body,” I add, no loose ends. My brother helps, when in the mood, with his version of information gathering and disposal.

Thomas nods in thanks before continuing. “We have our ear to the wall on a few other, minor things. If anything comes of it, you both will be first to know.” Uncle Thomas has to be vague because only Papa and I know of the greater details, which are communicated in person at undisclosed locations each week or as needed if it’s an emergency.

I assume this is why Abi was called out tonight, though we try to keep work out of the bedroom.

“Be sure to keep us apprised should it turn into something grander,” Papa requests. Thomas nods once more, ending his update.

Sitting forward in his seat, Papa places his cigar in the ashtray and then takes a swig of his whiskey. The room watches him. “Great job, everyone. Thank you for your time this evening, and as the rest of this year progresses, you’ll be reporting to my granddaughter more, not me. So get fucking use to it.” And with those final words, the meeting concludes. We stay seated behind the desk and wait for the room to clear. My mom looks back at me, proudly, before following my dad out. Greta is last, with her blinged-out walker, Rogers following behind.

Still in awe of her every single day, I will never not believe, that woman is a fucking legend.

Following the closing of the front door, I rise and do the same with the office door. I trust our people but you can’t help but have a nosey one in the bunch, hiding in the dark and lingering around in hopes of overhearing something they shouldn’t.

It’s human nature.

Papa opens the note I passed him, the one I found on Tash this evening.

Reading it out loud, he says, “We see you when you're sleeping.”He shakes his head. “Yeah, and we will see you too, motherfucker,” he murmurs to himself.

“It was on the hood of my car this time.”

He opens his desk drawer and places it on top of the others we’ve gotten over the past few weeks.

“Why is there blood on this one?” he questions, puzzled.

Blowing out a sigh, I’m not looking forward to delivering this news as I reveal, “It was stapled to Tash’s dead, naked, and carved body.”

His shoulders drop in disbelief. Leaning back, he rakes his tattooed fingers through his silver hair. “Fuck me.”

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