THE WISEGUY

  PIPER STONE

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Afterword

  Books of the Savage Empire Series

  Books of the Ruthless Empire Series

  Books of the Tainted Regime Series

  Books of the Carnal Sins Series

  Books of the Kings of Corruption Series

  Books of the Sinners and Saints Series

  Books of the Benedetti Empire Series

  Books of the Merciless Kings Series

  Books of the Mafia Masters Series

  Books of the Edge of Darkness Series

  Books of the Dark Overture Series

  Books of the Club Darkness Series

  More Mafia and Billionaire Romances by Piper Stone

  Books of the Missoula Bad Boys Series

  Books of the Montana Bad Boys Series

  Books of the Eagle Force Series

  Books of the Dangerous Business Series

  Books of the Dark Wolves Series

  Books of the Alpha Dynasty Series

  Books of the Alpha Beasts Series

  More Stormy Night Books by Piper Stone

  About Piper Stone

  Copyright © 2024 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Stone, Piper

  The Wiseguy

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  CHAPTER 1

  “You should never trust a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Because the only thing the wolf will ever want to do is break you.”

  —Rachel E. Carter

  Maddox

  Forbidden.

  There were about a dozen reasons that word continued to drift through my thoughts and had since I’d stepped foot in this goddamned city.

  New York.

  The fucking danger capital of the world. At least in my mind. The only damn good thing about the crowded city was the food, which I’d had my share of. However, I couldn’t wait to get out of the place, the people making my skin crawl.

  Tonight was no exception.

  I was on edge, scanning the ugly bar, itching to use my weapon on someone. Maybe because my testosterone had surged, my balls aching. Still, I could smell danger all around me, my extensive training providing a sixth sense for such things. Unfortunately, I couldn’t put my finger on why.

  Confronting danger was always a priority in a world where men pretended to be kings.

  The statement had been something I’d remembered from years before, long before I’d become the Wiseguy for one of the most notorious and powerful crime syndicates east of the Mississippi. I was the enforcer, a man both feared and respected by men within our organization as well as within the ranks of our enemies.

  Threats were a way of life, no matter how legitimate certain aspects of our operation had become. And they were never to be taken lightly. That’s why I’d been tasked with coming to New York. To keep the peace.

  To keep anyone from destroying our operation in any manner.

  To annihilate anyone who tried.

  Given I had no regrets for anything I’d done in my career, killing some asshole who dared try to hurt such a precious commodity would be easy. And enjoyable.

  A smirk crossed my face as I swirled the drink in front of me.

  I relished being called the Boogeyman, taking my job seriously. I also valued the friendship I shared with the Kingpin of the Thibodeaux family, the man I considered my brother. There wasn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for Arman, including taking a bullet for him. I’d done that on more than one occasion. I’d also hunted for him, scouring cities to locate assholes who dared get in our way or betray us.

  Those were easy deeds to handle, bloodshed certainly not something I shied away from. I was a lethal man after all, my methods of eliminating problems making me legendary.

  As if that mattered.

  However, the request he’d asked me to handle personally was… difficult as fuck. And why? Because it involved a beautiful woman, one I couldn’t have, the single woman considered forbidden. But dear God, my thoughts weren’t just impure, they were downright sadistic. Tying her to my bed would just be the beginning of defiling her. I certainly understood the ramifications of what I was thinking, let alone if I acted on the fact my cock suddenly had a mind of its own.

  Get a grip, dickhead.

  She was fucking off limits, the epitome of forbidden.

  Arman would likely cut my dick off with a dull knife, shoving it down my throat until I choked. I was here to keep watch over his most precious possession of all.

  I tossed back the cheap liquor, the biting taste sliding down my throat doing little more than reminding me that death was a great equalizer. I almost laughed at the thought, yet as the piano player returned from a short break, my entire body stiffened. The truth hit me hard between the eyes. Death meant nothing. What did?

  Uncontrollable lust.

  That’s what I was experiencing, something I’d worked very hard to ignore. I’d succeeded, refusing to think about my desires for even a single second. Granted, I’d filled the majority of my days with work or going to the gym in order to keep my mind on everything else but the reason for my potential demise. Now that was impossible since she was only thirty feet away. Thank God for the darkness of the club or my needs would become impossible to ignore. I’d had over forty years of being able to shield my thoughts and my desires from those lurking in the shadows, determined to bring down the Thibodeaux family.

  Tonight, it seemed as if the armor I’d positioned around myself mentally was tarnished.

  All because I wanted to fuck her, claim her as my own.

  Arman’s only daughter.

  Fuck me.

  Zoe Thibodeaux was stunning in every way, her long raven hair shimmering in the lights the only decent thing about the joint where she was working a gig. She’d left a mafia princess, a young girl with big dreams. She’d return to her hometown as a woman, which didn’t bode well for curtailing my thoughts.

  Or my raging desires.

  As she eased onto the stool in front of the aging baby grand, I took another sip of my drink, holding the cheap liquor in my mouth. Watching. Forever watching her. The week I’d spent guarding her had allowed me to study her every move, her lovely nuances something I hadn’t noticed before. Sure, she’d been nothing a kid to me before she’d left, a girl I’d tried to remember with pigtails and a coloring book in her hand.

  Now, that was impossible.

  I’d noticed how sultry her laugh had become, how she ate her food gingerly, and when she loved something, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She was serious about almost everything, walking quickly from building to building while attending classes. Shit. I’d stood outside her dorm as rain had pelted my skin, using the excuse of remaining her bodyguard when all I’d wanted was to catch another glimpse of her.

  The word possessive came to mind.

  Or maybe I should use the term obsessive.

  In my depraved mind, she belonged to me.

  My actions had shifted from bodyguard to stalker, including hiding from her as Arman had requested. Shit. This needed to end. Thank God, his fucking flight was due in tomorrow. I’d lose my mind if I was forced to stay another day.

  I laughed and threw back the rest of my drink, almost slamming the dense tumbler on the bar. As soon as she started to play, I took a deep breath, instantly mesmerized as I’d been before. She had no idea what the music did to me, luring the beast from deep inside out into the open. I was forced to shift my cock, trying to keep it from being pinched in my zipper. The throb remained, the tightness in my balls becoming critical.

  At least this was her last set. She’d return to her dorm, sliding under the covers and I’d retire to the hotel where I’d spend another sleepless night, up at the crack of dawn to use their worthless gym. At least I could burn off some testosterone.

  Or so I hoped.

  I’d be leaving in two days, just after Arman and Raven arrived for her graduation. Then I’d collect my shit before the three of them returned.

  She was such an amazing performer, but the way she was feeling the music on this night was entirely different than the last concert she’d been required to perform at her college. Then she’d been
graded for her final exam, choosing to wear black as she handled the classical concerto with professionalism.

  On this night she allowed her emotions to show, her body movements adding to the passion of the selected piece. While the male customers leered at her, licking their chops as if they had a chance with her, no one was appreciative of her talent.

  And I wanted to crush all of them like the fucking cockroaches they were.

  As her fingers tickled the ivories, I leaned my head against the wall, trying to shove aside the sexual images that had formed the moment I’d laid eyes on her after almost five years. Unfortunately, they continued to pulse in my mind’s eye, refusing to allow me any peace.

  Her naked body under a shower of water.

  Cupping her full breasts in my hands, squeezing her nipples until she cried out in pleasurable pain.

  Licking her sweet nectar as she writhed underneath me, calling out my name as ecstasy rolled through her.

  Driving my throbbing cock deep into her tight channel, filling her with my seed.

  I fisted the glass once again, only this time I heard a slight crack as the tumbler succumbed to the pressure. Moments later, I opened my eyes, realizing more time had passed than I’d realized. Almost instantly, I lost my cool as I noticed some guy hanging around the stage. While in his hands were flowers, blood-red roses to be exact, I sensed the very danger that had kept me alive during various assassination attempts over the years. Christ. The asshole was swaying, obviously drunk. That he’d gotten the flowers at this time of night was the reason for my concern.

  Still, making a scene wasn’t necessary until it was, even if the hackles on the back of my neck were raised.

  Inching closer, I continued to stay in the shadows even though it was all I could do not to wrap my hand around the offending asshole’s throat. The last thing I needed was for some unknown drunk to trip my wires, alerting Zoe to my presence. Arman had been clear about reminding me she was not to learn I’d been sent to watch her.

  The fact I was here wasn’t unusual given children and wives were considered the single weaknesses of powerful men such as Arman. However, the timing was. The seemingly out of the blue request had raised a red flag, yet my best friend had simply shrugged off my concerns. That had pushed me to an edge that usually meant someone would face my wrath. Maybe tonight it would be the dude with the gray hair attempting to lay his filthy paws on the beautiful princess.

  Almost nothing about Zoe surprised me at this point, including her tenacious attitude, the rebellious woman reminding me of the perfect combination of her mother and father. Yet as I moved closer, I could smell her fear. That did surprise me. She’d just ended the short set, now standing and facing the man offering her flowers.

  While she took them at first, I gathered from the look on her face that she was concerned enough about the gesture to place them immediately on the top of the piano. Whatever she’d said to him obviously annoyed the son of a bitch by his crude facial expression but fortunately for him, he turned and walked away.

  Much to Zoe’s relief.

  She waited, pressing her hand against her chest before walking off the stage in the opposite direction toward the small employee locker room that I’d already checked out. I waited for a full five minutes for her to return. When she didn’t, I sensed she’d slipped out the back door, possibly to avoid the asshole who’d bothered her.

  I yanked out three twenties from my wallet, tossing them on the bar before pushing my way through the crowd toward the exit, running toward the subway. As soon as I noticed her heading down the flights of stairs, I realized the same guy was following her, even glancing over his shoulder before he moved behind her.

  The street wasn’t deserted yet one of the man reasons I loathed New York was that no one would care if she was accosted, looking the other way instead of getting involved.

  That was all I could take. I raced forward, snapping my hand around the man’s jacket, yanking him backward by several feet.

  After issuing a punch, I expected him to stay down on the sidewalk where I’d explain to him that following pretty young girls wasn’t in his best interest. When the fucker made the mistake of struggling to his feet, even taking two swings at me, I had to grin. He actually believed in his inebriated state that he could best me.

  I grabbed him by the throat, driving him across the sidewalk, slamming his body against the wall. His breathing was rancid, like a brewery mixed with a French whorehouse. Men with no self-respect pissed me off almost as much as those I considered treacherous bastards.

  “What… do you want?” he asked gruffly.

  Instead of answering right away, I reached my hand into his jacket pocket, easily finding his wallet.

  “You’re robbing me? Just don’t kill me.”

  I released my hold from his neck while I yanked out his driver’s license. “Lucas Marciano.” After reading off his name, I purposely dropped his wallet on the cracked sidewalk before yanking the Glock into my hand and pressing it against his temple. “Now, I’m giving you a choice. You can either walk away from here and live to see another day or attempt to follow that young woman any further. It’s entirely up to you. I’m a fair man.”

  “I wasn’t doing nothing. I swear to fucking God.”

  While there was a slight slur to his words, the fact he knew exactly what I was referring to irritated the piss out of me. “You have three seconds to decide.” When his eyes barely registered I was speaking to him, I shoved my other arm into his throat, cutting off his air supply. “Two seconds.”

  He coughed, doing his best to nod.

  I drove my arm against his vocal cords, cocking my head and sneering at him. I could easily snap his neck if I wanted, but I wasn’t here to cause any more of a scene than necessary. When I released my hold, he tumbled to his feet.

  “I know your name and where you live, Mr. Marciano. I’m giving you a piece of advice and I suggest you take it. Stay away from pretty young women and you just might make it to your next birthday. If not, I will be back. And next time, I won’t be so nice since I’ll be forced to dole out punishment.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  I drove the barrel of my weapon under his chin, using every ounce of control not to fire off a single shot. Allowing things to get messy would only add to my workload.

  “You can call me the Boogeyman.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Two months later…

  Maddox

  Fucking July heat.

  New Orleans was broiling, sweat beading across my forehead. Maybe because I was dressed in a goddamned suit. Even the air conditioning in my pricey sports car couldn’t keep up with the relentless heat. Just before I was about to exit my vehicle, my phone rang and I answered without looking, ready to bark at the person on the other end.

  “Maddox.”

  “She’s home.” Arman Thibodeaux’s voice was distinctive as usual, but today the tone held a sense of relief. “She landed safely. Just got in an hour ago.”

  He’d insisted his only daughter return from New York, which would likely be a bone of contention for the stunning young woman with a brazen attitude and a mind of her own. “You finally convinced her to return.” I’d been surprised she hadn’t returned with her father. I doubted her decision to remain in the city longer had been met with Arman’s full approval. Granted, the girl did have him wrapped around her finger and always had.

  “No. I insisted she come home for the summer at minimum. Pick up a dozen roses. Will ya? No, make that two dozen. And they need to be red.”

  Red roses. I loathed the flower more now than ever. Especially the color, but for him, I’d make an exception.

  I shook my head, Arman’s request driving a smile to my face. He was my boss, considered the most powerful man in New Orleans. The ruthless syndicate leader known as the Kingpin was also my best friend.

  And I was his Wiseguy.

  He rarely asked for favors, preferring to handle his business and personal needs himself. This made number two for the day, the first being to hunt down a rat who’d dared steal from the organization. That one had been easy, the smarmy dude’s inability to keep his trap shut the very reason it had taken me all of one hour and four minutes to track his sorry ass to his on-again, off-again girlfriend’s place just outside of the city.