Chap. 37: She Belongs To Him

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• Katie's club outfit above & Lane's reaction to seeing her wear it after he told her not to below •

•  Katie's club outfit above & Lane's reaction to seeing her wear it after he told her not to below •

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On the way to the club, Lane didn't have Katie ride with him. He was agitated that she had spoke so spitefully to him and then gave him orders. In Lane's position as the biggest crime lord of all Washington State, gives the orders but never takes them. If it had been anyone else, even one the three Prince's, that had spoke to him with so much spite and demand over his authority, he would have busted their mouth with one quick punch to keep them in line. But his feelings for her overrode his usual punishment, never wanting to hurt Katie in any way. Especially physically.

She'll get over it. Lane tells himself as he watches the Cadillac pull up to the front of the club, I'll sit her down and explain it to her later when we get back to the cabin. By then, she will have warmed back up to me.

Lane steps out of the black Cadillac, nodding to Axel to park. The crime lord walks in, pulling his coat to make it straighter as he walks into Lion's Bar. He walks towards the back of the club, seeing Barclay's girls flirt with customers as they drink their liquor. The crime lord shakes his head at the sight, flashes of his past reminiscing in his head.

The three Prince's are all gathered around a table in the back, playing cards. Lane walks past the three men whom are individually the three Prince's second in command. None of them even glance at the crime lord as he walks past them. The three Prince's all put their cards down and rise to their feet. They are all dressed up in nicer clothing than they had been when they executed Haugen. They all shake hands with Lane, their symbolic rings on their left hand pinky's.

"Nice to see you again, my friend." Leith Barclay uses his sweet charm on his superior. "I miss our little gatherings."

Lane smirks, looking off. "Stop bullshitting me, Barclay. Tell me exactly what it is that you want."

"What happened to Fairfield?" Ronan McGuinness blurts out, glaring at the Scot. "You never get to the point, Leith."

"Fairfield was our largest launderer, distributer, and manufacturer...and now he's dead." Barclay intertwines his thick fingers, his Scottish accent light. "No disrespect, my friend, but I'd like to know why we're getting less money now."

Lebedev gives Lane a look, one that tells him that he had tried to explain it to the other two before. But Lane was needed for further confirmation. The crime lord nods.

"I checked my books on Lebedev's money laundering...McGuinness's manufacturing of cocaine, weed, heroin, etc. with Fairfield distributing it to the high end country clubs...Barclay's distributing of prostitutes...and I found an error." Lane sits back in his seat, his elbows on the head of the rounded cushioned booth. "Someone has been stealing from me."

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