Page 81 of Pretty Pink Poison
“No. It was his app first and we’re doing the same damn thing. Plus, that fucker isn’t in our territory. He’s over on the East Coast.”
“So what?” I knew what. It meant we were meddling with syndicate and mob territories we didn’t own. Yuri had too much money now to not be involved with them in some capacity. The sale of the app was supposed to stay easy, but I couldn’t get over the admissions he’d made once I owned it especially when I found he was working on creating a new one.
“So, you know the cartel’s going to have a problem with it. And Jameson?”
“Knight, you can kiss my ass,” I grumbled because I’d take his head on a damn platter too.
“You’re itching for a fight,” Ezra said, but Jameson met my glare with a look of mischief.
“You want to go a round? I don’t mind giving a good beating.”
“I’m still waiting for you to give one to that man on the East Coast after he stole your wife.” It was a low blow, but maybe a part of me hoped he would act on it. Jameson was always a little too charming and a little too gracious when I wanted him to be vicious like the rest of us. He had a damn syndicate in the Midwest to run, and he knew as well as I did that there came a time to be merciless rather than merciful.
Jameson sat back in one of the leather wing chairs, and I saw how a fury finally sparked in his gaze. He sucked on his teeth before he responded quietly, “Careful, Bane. I won’t fight a man for a woman that’s not worth fighting for, but she’s still the mother of my child, and I’ll go to war for my child any fucking day.”
Ezra interjected, “We know that, Jameson. Of course. We all love Franny.” He gave me a look, “What the fuck, man?”
“I never mean any harm to Franny,” I grumbled. “That’s a given, you asshole,” I told Jameson. Of course he had to take the fun out of our bickering by mentioning his daughter.
“Well, then. I think we move on from the topic of my dead ex-wife considering I don’t need Franny waltzing in here like she randomly does.”
“Her and Bianca both.” I slumped into my chair, frustrated I couldn’t take my bad mood out on anyone in particular.
“Does Pink like that you call her by her formal name still?” Jameson inquired.
“I don’t care if she does or doesn’t. It’s who she is to me.”
“Interesting. Bianca has a nice ring to it.”
“Do you get off on pissing me off?” I flexed my hand and my gaze flicked to the skulls on my shelf. His would fit nicely up there, I swear to God.
“Only sometimes.” He followed my gaze. “Your skull collection could really help med students if you donated it, you know?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Of course he wanted to bring up the fact that he was a surgeon on top of being a part of the syndicate.
“I’m just saying, it’s morbid in here. I’d rather a resident learn about cranial anatomy than have to stare at them every time I come here.”
“Don’t come here then,” I shot back.
“I figured I had to since your brothers seem to think you’re going to start a damn war over a blog post.”
“It’s actually an entry to our Oracles,” I corrected him like he was wrong. He wasn’t really. None of them were. I was going to start a war, but it wasn’t over the entry I was about to show them.
Instead, it was over an entry from Bianca on the night she slit her wrists.
I hadn’t forgotten what this idiot had done, how he’d crafted his app to succeed in dismantling others’ psyches, and I wasn’t going to let it go. It took a little time to identify exactly what Yuri was doing with the app he sold me, but I’d been diligent. He wasn’t just a startup company gone viral. He scavenged the web for open-source AI, feeding it prompts and letting it interact with people on autopilot. That’s how Bianca got caught in its trap—and how he systematically found women to prey on.
“Read the entry Yuri wrote and tell me what you want to do.” I turned the screen toward him.
Rafe sat next to Ezra giving me an inquisitive look. “You’re on edge.”
“And you’re not at all,” I said in an accusatory tone. “I don’t exactly have a cakewalk happening here with Dimitri and Olive and Jameson running the Midwest wing of the syndicate and stirring up problems with the Irish.”
“You know Father can handle it.”
“Like he’s handling anything right now?” I tilted my head and waited for Ezra and Rafe to agree that our father had checked out. “He’s been overseas for months. Probably drinking on a beach.”
“Wish I was doing that too.” Ezra chuckled.
