The gathering of the mob bosses was a new gig to Opal. Sure, she had stabbed the previous kingpin of the Red District with an electric knife—three dozen times—for his lack of manners. But why did she need to attend these boring meetings with men who bickered more than the prostitutes at the Macabre?
She lifted her booted feet onto the marble table, knowing full well that the man across from her, Garl, was trying to sneak a peek under her mini skirt. A naughty smirk stretched her lips.
I didn’t wear any underwear today. He should end up stuttering right…about…now… As she thought that, Garl’s cat-like, silver eyes bulged in their sockets. He cleared his meaty throat multiple times and tried to tear his attention away from the tiny gap Opal made for his pleasant viewing experience.
Men are so dumb.
“Get a hold of yourself, Garl,” Falhar, the basilisk in his mid-forties snapped from the head of the table. “Opal is not the only fuckable alabaster in Green.”
According to Opal’s second-in-command, Falhar was the one in charge of running the Black District. A guy like that, with muscles bulging every which way under that tight-fitting grey suit, was a prize to behold. Too bad he was married to some chick who had bigger breasts than Opal. They had to be fake.
She peered at her cleavage. Should I get something done to grow these babies?
Another man in his forties, Nine, wore sunglasses indoors. Opal guessed he was a flare. It had to be a subconscious thing for his kind. They liked to hide their pretty eyeballs from view. It made Opal trust him even less. He wasn’t alabaster-beautiful, either. His nose was too long, brows too bushy, and when he talked, it highlighted his overbite. Her research told her that he was her biggest rival for territory. Only a few blocks separated his gang’s dealings from hers. The asshole also had the nerve to try out some kind of new drug in her district, addicting over twenty people to it in less than a week.
She glared at him, seeing Nine smirking in return. Bastard.
Nine looked to the head of the table and raised his nasal voice, “Falhar, we all know why we’re here. Let’s get on with the damn meeting!”
Opal lifted her hand into the air and fluttered her false eyelashes for effect. “Unlike Nine, I have no idea why this meeting is taking place. Care to share?” She stared directly at Falhar. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Garl was in the middle of attempting another sneak peek at her goods. She rolled her eyes and lowered her legs. The faster she got this meeting over and done with, the better.
“As most of you already know, Hamer was killed this week. We are here to figure out how to distribute his territory without sparking a war between our gangs,” Falhar replied.
Opal raised a brow. “The fat guy is dead? Who got him?”
“Don’t you know anything other than how to stab someone?” Nine asked.
She shot out of her seat, slamming her palms against the table. “Try saying that when my knife is shoved up your ass!”
“Sit. Down.” Falhar sucked in a deep breath and released it through his mouth. “I want to get this out of the way as fast as possible. So, shut the hell up and focus. Both of you!”
“I don’t see why Opal should be here at all,” Garl said, folding his bulky arms on the table. “My territory and Nine’s are the ones surrounding Hamer’s. We could split it down the middle and be done with it.”
“Ha!” Opal flipped him the middle finger. “I am not giving up territory to you. Split it four ways. I want the eastern part. It’s next to the Willmott Bridge, which means there is money to be made.”
“Extorting people for money now?” Nine chuckled. “Your list is getting more predictable.”
“Could you two stop your bickering?” Falhar shouted.
The double doors to the meeting room burst open. A single woman with long black hair, relaxed demeanour, and confident walk strode in.
Past the intruder, Opal saw the security guards lying on the floor, unconscious.
Who is this chick? She didn’t even make a noise.
Falhar’s entire body tensed. When Opal looked around at the other men in the room, they were equally as nervous.
“What brings you here?” Nine asked.
The woman arrived at the edge of the table and threw an envelope at the centre of it. “This is the building I want you to protect. There is someone there who has to stay safe no matter what. Understood?”
Opal snorted. “Why should we listen to you?”
The woman didn’t reply. She turned on her heel and sashayed out of the room like she owned the damn place.
Opal’s upper lip curved. “Who the fuck was that? And why did you all tuck your dicks in the second she came in?”
“Do you know why Hamer is not here today?” Falhar asked her.
“Because he was an idiot?” she replied smartly.
His blue eyes narrowed on her. “That woman killed him. He had fifty modded guarding him at the time. Like a ghost, she appeared, killed him, and vanished because he didn’t do what she’d asked.”
“You’re kidding…” Opal mumbled.
“As much as I hate to admit it,” Nine began with a grimace, “she is more dangerous than all of us put together. Best we do what she wants.”
Falhar and Garl nodded.
Opal eyed the envelope the mystery woman left behind and opened it. In it was a single photo of a rundown apartment complex somewhere in the Green District. “This has to be a joke…”