Page 39 of Hades

“Who is that?” surprised he’d spoken aloud.

His guy peered through the windscreen and chortled in that way that always irritated Hades. Asshat needed to sort out his sinuses before he did it for him with a 9MM.

“You ain’t heard of Morgana Denby, Prez? She’s a walkin’ blowjob. Bitch is a club bunny, she goes around ‘em all.”

What? The ice princess was a whore? Slick anger squeezed his insides. The irrational sensation burned. But then his man went on. “Don’t know about who the blondie bitch is.”

Ah. He was talking of the other woman Hades hadn’t even given a look to.

A car horn blared behind him, he put it in gear and began to pull away, taking a right to where he needed to be. But at the last second, he gave one last look to the two women. The blonde dressed in a sunshine buttery yellow dress holding his attention.

A nasty lust deeper than the fucking ocean punched him in the temple. And the urge to turn back was monstrous in his head. He had his pick of bitches back at the club. Women turned up at his doors every night looking to party and willing to open her wet thighs for him. He had the choice of the club sluts to dig his nasty, hungry cock into and yet, for a split second he was blindsided by a college girl. The goodness shining out of her like a fucking beacon to mankind that she was probably a boring fuck and better left alone.

What did a good girl know about satisfying the appetites of a man?

“Had a few college bitches.” His companion chirped. Hades increased his speed. Disturbed with his own thoughts. He listened with half an ear. He couldn’t imagine what women this guy got since he was no looker.

Maybe he fucked them in the dark and gave them a bag for their head.

“All that math and science makes ‘em hungry for a fat cock, Prez. Some like it real violent like, get me? Had one kinky bitch who—”

Hades tuned out the noise, switching his focus from pussy onto what was important. The sensation in his head was unwelcome and he didn’t enjoy the feeling of floating.

It reminded him of that night he came face to face with one of his father’s other bastards.

Oh, he hadn’t realized who the fuck he was at the time, didn’t recognize him, his father’s unholy dick had dipped in countless whores over the years, siblings were scattered far and wide as that priest could spread his nastiness.

Maybe it was DNA that made Hades blood pound in his ears with recognization of his own kin, but it was days later he pieced together the odd feeling for what it was. Not to mention it had been like looking at Xavier back from the dead. It was that same damn dizzying sensation of his bones not belonging to his own skin, only it had nothing to do with family and all to do with ownership.

The pickup went according to plan, they drove back to his digs with more than half a million of the white shit carefully packaged in steel containers insulated heavily to help them pass through customs at the docks. Once he reached his warehouse, greeted by several of his men and groupies already enjoying themselves, he strode to his office, letting the others see to his strict orders by cutting up the merchandise and getting it distributed to the dealers in the next few hours. Within the week the whole lot would be sold and passed along the chain. He had dealers in casinos, outside schools, in nightclubs, at every outdoor event, gigs and private parties and then the high rollers with the bigger egos who paid for bricks of the shit because they could afford it, who were in the kind of jobs that placed them in powerful seats. No one would ever suspect surgeons or social workers of liking to party with the white snow.

Unwrapping a foil packet out of his inner pocket, Hades scrubbed fingers first through his hair before laying it out on his table and went through the motion of cutting up the cocaine into three neat lines. His OCD was not happy until it was perfectly symmetrical and then he leaned down and inhaled all three lines one after the other, the instant effect hitting his brain until he felt like he was detached from his own skull and the woozy feeling settled in.

It wasn’t a regular occurrence for him to snort drugs, but to ensure he’d bought quality goods he tested each batch, he wanted to know if he was being ripped off, and like any chef, he tasted his own merchandise for seasoning. It appeared a good consignment this month, they’d tried to swindle him a few months back by mixing it with too much filler shit. One hard conversation later and a pair of dead drug-messengers his point was made.

“You know theSoulsgot a big bash tonight?” Asked T-bone later that night when Hades was relaxing with a beer, feet up on his desk, contemplating his next job.

He cast a brow up. “And you think this interests me? Maybe I should put on a tie and invite myself.” He went on drolly.

T-bone cackled. “Yeah, funny, can’t see ‘em opening the door to ya. Nah. Woudn’t it be good to stick it to ‘em by getting our gear inside their compound. We’re already moving it through their land.”

It was something Hades considered but dismissed it in the same vain. While he longed for the day he could rid the earth of the golden boy, thumbing his nose at Rider with a few bricks of blow wasn’t the way to do it. A man like that you had to cut him off at the knees or watch him rise time and again.

You can’t beat an enemy until you knew his weakness. If it took a lifetime he would find Rider’s.

Hades could wait. He was a patient man when it was needed.

The following evening was one of those nights that everything seemed to fall into place. Fresh from a climax inside a woman he didn’t recall her name, Hades was heading home from across town. He was in the supply and demand business and some of his customers had particular … questionable requirements. While this had proven difficult in the beginning, Hades was an old hat at adapting to his environment and supplying whatever the deviant pricks requested for the exact value, and while it wasn’t his favorite chore to transport three bound and gagged women, he didn’t trust any of his men to do it without sampling the product first. Fucking assholes couldn’t keep their dicks caged even for a minute.

The CEO of a well-known cable TV brand was happy with his product and Hades was pleased with his payment. Trafficking woman across the border had become lucrative in the past year. It wasn’t a conscious decision of his to get back to his pimp days and nor was it long term goal, but while it brought it the money he would supply and reap the benefits. As it stood now he had five men permanently across the border, they waited for word from him on the requirements of what women were needed and then they ferried his order.

It was a living, breathing happy meal. Toy included.

The illegal nature never troubled him, even with the begging and pleading to set them free. It didn’t register on any moral scope, loosely or otherwise. He’d long accepted he was not a normal man who did normal things. He was more likely to laugh in the face of such despair. He was more likely to be turned on from the agony of them being caged and shuffled like chess pieces than to experience an ounce of sympathy.

Oh, well, he was fine with it.

He was not normal when all thoughts were on how to better his life even at the expense of someone innocent. It didn’t register he was doing something wrong, not when all he’d ever known was to fight for every scrap and piece of his life.

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