The Tyrant Billionaire

Chapter 10: Gangs business

As the night deepened, the bar slowly came to life.

The air was thick with smoke, the scent of expensive liquor, and the rhythmic pulse of music. A crowd, enticed by the promise of a night of pleasure, filled the place with energy and anticipation. Amidst this throng, Hardy's gaze was drawn to a striking figure in red, surrounded by a cluster of men.

These men, dressed in sharp suits with polished shoes, presented themselves as refined, but Hardy saw through their facade. He knew their intentions were simple—they all wanted the same thing: to take the alluring woman in front of them to bed.

Marissa, however, handled their advances with a practiced ease. She had an uncanny ability to charm and disarm, to make each man feel like he was the only one who mattered. She was, after all, the star attraction of the nightclub, and she played her role perfectly.

Sensing Hardy's eyes on her, Marissa glanced his way. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and she offered him a playful, knowing smile before turning her attention back to her eager admirers.

"She's dangerous," Hardy thought to himself, a mix of admiration and caution flickering in his eyes.

Elsewhere, on the south side of the city, another nightclub pulsed with a different kind of energy.

This club was a world apart from the Bunny Bar. Here, the music was louder, the dancing more frenetic, and the air was heavy with the scent of excess. In the dim corners, patrons engaged in all manner of illicit activities, including open drug use.

This was a place where rules were more suggestions than mandates—a true den of vice.

Dani entered the club with Burstein, his expression filled with disdain as he surveyed the chaos around him. "This place is a circus," he muttered under his breath.

In a secluded VIP area, Dani met with Nemesio, a notorious gang leader with a reputation as ruthless as it was violent. Nemesio was in his forties, short but solidly built, with a hardened expression that spoke of a life spent on the streets. Known to many as "The Squid," Nemesio had clawed his way up from a petty thief to a gang boss through sheer aggression and cunning.

Nemesio took a long, indulgent snort from the line of powder on the table in front of him, savoring the moment before turning his attention to Dani. "Didn't expect to see you here, Dani," he said with a smirk. "Last I heard, you were stepping on my turf, undercutting my coke trade."

Dani offered a nonchalant smile. "That was small-time, Nemesio. I'm here with a much bigger proposal. Interested?"

Nemesio's curiosity was piqued. "What kind of proposal?"

Dani leaned in closer, his voice low. "The Austrians have the best territory—prime real estate, wealthy clients. They killed some of our guys recently, and I'm planning on hitting back. I've already got the Irish on board, and we're looking to carve up the Austrian territory. You want in?"

Nemesio leaned back, a calculating look in his eyes. "The Irish agreed to this?"

Dani nodded. "They're on board."

"And what's my cut?"

"Thirty percent," Dani replied smoothly.

Nemesio scoffed. "No way. I want sixty."

Dani remained calm. "The Irish are stronger than you, Nemesio. They get forty percent."

In truth, Dani was playing both sides. He had promised the Irish sixty percent as well. But deception was part of the game, and he played it well.

Nemesio frowned. "The Irish? They've only got two hundred guys. I can rally a thousand Mexicans if I need to."

Dani knew that Nemesio's numbers were inflated, mostly made up of petty criminals and desperate smugglers, far less organized or formidable than the Irish. But he played along, pretending to consider. "Fine, sixty percent it is, but you'll need to pull your weight."

Nemesio grinned, satisfied. "Deal. When do we start?"

"I'll let you know when the time is right," Dani replied.

As Dani and Burstein left the nightclub, Dani took a deep breath of the cool night air, shaking his head in disgust. "What a bunch of fools," he muttered.

Burstein turned to him. "I've got the Russians and Poles ready to join us. The French are hesitant; their leader's out of town."

Dani smirked. "The French are small potatoes. If they don't want in, it's no loss. We've got ??enough muscle with the others."

"When do we move?" Burstein asked.

"Not yet," Dani said. "I've still got meetings with a couple of city councilmen and the police chief. We'll need their cooperation when things heat up. But in the meantime, let's stir the pot a little, make things interesting."

Early the next morning, Hardy drove over to meet Sean and Reid , ready to begin another day's work. They headed to the warehouse to pick up their shipments, just as they had done the day before.

Today was the weekly accounting day. After Sean calculated the day's takings, Hardy double-checked the figures to ensure everything was accurate.

"Didn't know you were good with numbers, Jon," Sean remarked, surprised.

Hardy shrugged. "Had to learn back in the day. Comes in handy."

They tallied the day's haul—a cool $20,000—and headed to the main office to settle accounts. It was Hardy's first time at the headquarters, and he was struck by how much it resembled a legitimate business operation.

After turning in the day's earnings, Hardy reviewed their profits. "How do we usually split this?" he asked.

"Bill gets forty percent, and the rest gets split between me and Reid ," Sean explained.

Hardy nodded. "How about we cut Bill in for a share? Fair's fair, right?"

Sean and Reid both agreed, and they decided to divide the profits evenly—each taking a twenty-five percent share.

Hardy knew the value of keeping his team happy and motivated. A little generosity now could pay dividends in loyalty and effort down the line.

With the day's work done, they returned to the nightclub, maintaining their routine.

A few days later, word spread quickly of a robbery at Tuscany Tavern, an old Italian bar on Melrose Street. The place had been hit hard; two men had walked in, ordered drinks, and then suddenly opened fire, sending patrons scrambling for cover.

The thieves grabbed what cash they could and were gone in a flash. Dante, the owner, tried to stand up to them, warning them they were on Austrian turf. For his trouble, he got a bullet in the leg.

News of the attack rattled the neighborhood. The next day, the tavern was nearly empty, the fear of violence driving customers away. Whispers spread, questioning the Austrian gang's ability to protect their turf.

As Hardy and Sean delivered supplies to another bar, one of the owners pulled Hardy aside. "You're with the Austrians, right? You guys gonna keep us safe?"

Hardy nodded, giving the man a reassuring smile. "We've got it under control. Don't worry."

But inside, he knew the situation was growing more dangerous by the day.

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