The meeting room in his townhouse was empty now save for Shark and Schwartz. All his men had left. Lucien was at the desk, downing another tumbler of scotch. He knew his capacity for drinking was like his ability to have sex; nearly insatiable.
Shark stretched his thin arms over his head and yawned wearily.
His lank golden hair hung in a limp ponytail, although his hair had begun to recede frighteningly.
Schwartz sat in one of the leather armchairs near the French windows overlooking the city, his long legs elegantly crossed, studying Lucien through half-closed eyes.
'What's up mate?', Finally he asked, bluntly. 'Cos that ain't water. Though you've been putting away the stuff like it was.'
He rose to his feet, a tall, lean man, his long dirty blonde hair flopping onto his forehead. With a characteristic impatient yet graceful gesture, he raked his hand through his hair, frowning in concern as he watched Lucien.
Shark continued to sit, although his restlessness had stilled. He knew that Lucien was distracted but he was content to wait it out.
Although Shark pretended bravado, he was in awe of Lucien, had been from the age of ten and would never dare to cross him.
He owed Lucien.
He worshipped Lucien.
Shark had had a traumatic childhood and unfortunately, the scars had never faded.
Shark as he was called because of his prominent, pointed teeth, was born William Robert Baxter. By the time he turned four, he was being sexually abused by his alcoholic father on a continuous basis, his mother had run away from the perverted Baxter Sr. a long time ago. Living as they did in a locality where dr*gs and whoring were common, no one cared to help the rather ugly little boy. His father was known to be an ugly customer to deal with.
The only friend Shark had was Lucien Delano, he with the royal sounding name, born to a whore who all but ignored his existence. Since her life depended on figuring out where to get the cash for her next fix, the two unwanted boys automatically gravitated toward each other.
More often than not, it was Lucien with the cold blue eyes and the strong fists who protected his little friend on many an occasion.
And the one who saved Shark from his father's cruelty.
On entering the house one afternoon unexpectedly to meet his friend, Lucien had been shocked and enraged to see the little Shark, his trousers around his ankles, crying silently as his father methodically humped him.
It had been the fourteen-year-old Lucien who had flung himself at the older man, a mass of muscle even in those days and he had pounded his friend's father senseless. In a murderous rage, Lucien had been about to drive a knife into the older man's chest, only the piteous sobbing of his terrified little friend had prevented him.
But the warning had served its purpose.
Baxter Sr. had never dared to touch his son after that.
They had grown up in the same seedy locality, where Lucien's mother sold her body to pay for her habit. The two friends often slept on the streets and grew up to be dreaded musclemen. Lucien's reputation of being ruthless, grew after he murdered his mother's pimp when he was still in his teens. He had arrived on the scene when his mother's pimp was methodically raping young Delano's three-year-old half-sister. Of course, young Lucien had leaped at the man and killed him with his bare hands, which had only fetched him a stint in a juvenile home.
And the irony was, when he emerged from the home, his little half-sister had disappeared. He had never been able to trace her.
A well-meaning juvenile court had placed him in foster care but he managed to evade them and soon, along with his loyal aide, Shark, Lucien took to a lucrative life of crime. At first, it was hustling for other mob bosses and fighting in underground Fight clubs but when he had learned the tricks for himself, he branched off and became a big name in the illegal arms business. People respected him for his cold, almost calculating ruthlessness. Schwartz who had joined them later, became a fast friend and solidly put his faith in the other two, particularly in Lucien.
Although Shark was the one who had insisted on having a finger in the sex trade and handled the women, a side of the business that both Lucien and Schwartz avoided, Shark would wet his pants if Lucien merely frowned at him.
Only Handsome James Schwartz had the gall to challenge and question Lucien.
Now he walked up to the shorter but more muscular Lucien who stood, watching him narrow-eyed. Schwartz shrugged his shoulders and said,
'Look mate, I know you. And I've never seen you so stressed out. I know it's not just Dmitri, damn the fu*ker. So what is it?'
For a long moment, Lucien held his gaze. Then turning away, he gulped his scotch and said gruffly,
'F*ck you, Schwartz. I'm staying here in the townhouse for a couple of weeks. I need to sleep. Maybe get a pussy or two to help me relax. I'm getting a couple of those club whores. Care to join me?'
Schwartz stared at him, incredulity writ large on his face.
The look of disbelief on Shark's face was almost comical.
"Bro,' he said, uncharacteristically questioning his friend, 'You've just returned from ...You got such a nice piece of hot pussy at home waiting for you, young and wet...'
He never completed the sentence, for with a roar, Lucien flung the tumbler to the ground, smashing it to smithereens as he lunged at Shark.
He had gripped the smaller man by the collar and had lifted the struggling man a few inches off the ground before Schwartz was able to free the choking, red-faced Shark.
'You do not speak of her like that!' growled Lucien.
Breathing heavily, his wide powerful shoulders straining under the shirt, as he had cast off his dinner jacket a long while ago, he looked dangerous and for a horrible moment, Shark remembered the day Lucien had stood over his father, preparing to plunge a knife into him.
'Don't you bloody dare, you son of a ***ch!' Lucien snarled, trying to shake off Schwartz's restraining arms which were like iron bands holding him back.
With an oath, he freed himself and strode unsteadily to the bar to pour himself another shot.
Adjusting his clothes Schwartz stood, observing him keenly.
Shark stumbled to the door, his head hanging, rubbing his neck.
Schwartz remained, studying Lucien for a while longer. He said nothing, but soon he joined the shaken smaller man and left Lucien alone to his drunken rage and brooding.