by Katsura and Yuramei
Genre: yaoi, gangster, humour
Authors: Katsura, Yuramei
Cover art: Yuramei
Editor: P.M. Leckie
First published: June 2014
ISBN-10: 1499764294 / ISBN-13: 978-1499764291
Only the scorned have enough fury to craft the perfect Hell.
The dust has settled after the disastrous bank job, so it's time for the Everdirge reprobates to divide up the loot.
There's just one snag: One of the bags appears to be missing.
Accusations and mistrust abound while Judas and Fergus try to figure out what happened to their money.
But in the meantime, Mikhail has rather more pressing problems to deal with...
Scottish chancer, Judas MacGregor, returns along with his band of no-hopers in this, the sequel to A Pack of Jokers.
More violence, comedy and mayhem — not to mention a healthy dose of smut — in another Illustrated Yaoi prose novel from Katsura & Yuramei.
This book was previously published in 2011 under the title of Big Deal Vol. 2: Lesson in Betrayal. This is an extensively reworked and re-edited version..
When trying to avoid something, like say for instance, to lose weight, one cut out chocolate to get into that size ten sooner, it’s never wise to assume that to sample some of the sweet confectionery would not cause a desire for more.
Mikhail Majewski was the owner of a successful brothel and for most his life lived under the impression that there was no such thing as love. Then straight out of the blue it seemed, he fell head over his fancy heels for Fergus Campbell, a local gangster who also happened to be married. That Fergus was already taken didn’t bother Mikhail as although many men claim their marriage to be over whilst in the midst of starting an affair, for Fergus, this age old excuse was actually true. He was hitched to a neurotic young alcoholic named Hugo. A needy little psychopath with a penchant for meddling.
Perhaps bizarrely, Mikhail had a hand in the rescue of the relationship between Fergus and his husband. The brothel keeper found love to be such a stressful state of being and knew that Hugo needed Fergus more, so keeping them together just seemed like the right thing to do.
As he stood outside of Fergus’s club, The Flying Garter, he told himself over and over again, he was only there as a friendly gesture. He would see how Fergus was, ask politely after Hugo and then he would leave.
He lifted his chin, took a deep breath, then hastily pulled an ornate little mirror from out of his pocket. He checked his features before he applied some powder to his already perfectly made up face. Mikhail wore as much make up as some woman did and his platinum blond hair was arranged in angelic curls around his face. Today, much like all days, he was dressed from top to toe in white. Even his high heeled boots were white, the gold buckles on the side of them an echo of the many gold chains that he wore and the multitude of pale jewelled rings on his fingers.
A few tentative steps brought him towards the door of the establishment, where Rasputin, Fergus’s bodyguard and doorman, opened it without his needing to knock. A club owned by a Campbell would obviously have security cameras trained on the entrance. So had Fergus observed Mikhail’s cautious arrival? He dearly hoped not. Rasputin was a fearsome looking individual with a long scar that ran up one cheek and straight though a rather milky looking, useless eye. However, Mikhail had met him before and was not so taken aback by his appearance.
“Come on in, Mr Majewski.” The brutish sounding man held the door ajar to let him pass and Mikhail walked into the club with as much confidence as he could muster. His heels clicked sharply on the dark wood of the floor, creating an assertive echo that in no way reflected how he actually felt.
Fergus sat at the bar with a newspaper in his hands, a coffee by his side. No steam rose from the cup so it appeared that he’d let his drink go cold. Mikhail stared at him, battling with the urge to walk back outside and climb into his limo, never to return. Although he was without a doubt a violent man, Fergus was extremely handsome. He had dark collar length hair, grey eyes and naturally tan skin. A small amount of perfectly sculpted stubble accentuated his strong chin and framed his attractive mouth. He wore a crisp white shirt and Mikhail let out a helpless sigh as he allowed his gaze to wander over the toned muscles which showed through the cotton.
Perhaps overhearing the audible appreciation, Fergus turned his head a fraction. His eyes widened in recognition, then he turned fully, a warm smile on his lips. “Mikhail!” He got up from his seat. Mikhail had the sudden compulsion to embrace him, but such an open display of affection in a public place was unlikely to go down well.
“Hello, Mr Campbell.” He extended his hand.
As Fergus reached to clasp it, his smile diminished and his eyes betrayed a touch of sadness. “Mr Campbell, is it now?” He held Mikhail’s fingers in a gentle grip. “I suppose I really do deserve that. So what can I do for you, Mr Majewski?”
Mikhail looked at him with sorrow. “No please, Fergus… I meant nothing by addressing you as Mr Campbell… I just… I was not so sure that you would want to see me and—”
“Mikhail, please.” Fergus took him firmly by the elbow and led him to the office next to the bar.
As soon as they reached the privacy of the small room, Fergus first closed the door, then he took both of Mikhail’s hands. “Do you know I’ve been frantic with worry about you? Wondering why I didn’t hear from you? You just… you just decided that you were going to leave me to Hugo and never even wondered if that’s what I wanted?” He stared into Mikhail’s eyes.
Mikhail sighed deeply. “It was for the best. Hugo needs you.”
He let go of Mikhail’s hands and began to pace around the room. “He needs me? You really think that he needs me?” He raised his voice by a fraction but was obviously still wary about being overheard. “And what about what I need? Did you consider that when you were making your little plan?”
Arguments had a tendency to leave Mikhail trembling, so he usually tried to avoid them. Perhaps that was one of the reasons which led him not to fight for the love of Fergus. He would have had to stand up to Hugo. Despite having the appearance of an anorexic teenager, Hugo still managed to instil fear in most people who had anything to do with him.
Mikhail walked over to the desk and sat down. “I didn’t have a plan,” he said softly. “It is not that I thought, oh yes they are better off together, it’s just… what would give me the right to put my feelings over Hugo’s?”
“Fuck Hugo’s feelings!” Fergus was a thug, the fact was undeniable. But normally he’d modified his language for Mikhail. Only once did he let this pretence slip — in a damp cottage in the middle of nowhere after he’d been shot in the arm by a fugitive bank robber. “I’m going to be honest with you. Honest and selfish. I don’t give a shit about Hugo. He can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned. It’s you I want. Don’t you see that? I don’t sleep around. I was faithful to him and intended to stay that way. That’s until you came along.”
He crouched in front of Mikhail and took both of his hands again. “Don’t you see that? Or did you think what we had was just sex?”
“No!” Mikhail had to admit that the sex had been amazing and regardless of the current situation, if he was being as honest as Fergus was, the thought of how beautifully their bodies fitted together was never far from his mind. But their relationship had been more than that. And again, with honesty, it still was. Mikhail loved the man who kneeled before him. He loved him so much that he’d hated to give him up. To leave Fergus with Hugo seemed like the right thing to do, but now, with Fergus only inches away, he regretted the decision to attempt to live without him. Never make love with him again. Never feel the touch of his powerful hands as they would brush over his trembling thighs.
“Then if you accept that it wasn’t just sex, you must know how I feel about you. How these days without you have seemed like years. I answer my phone and I only want to hear that sweet accent of yours. I always walk home past your place, even though it adds ages to my journey and I have a perfectly good car. I walk so that I have the slim chance of seeing you again. Please, Mikhail.” Their eyes met. “I’ve never been good with words or expressing how I feel, but you must… you must know that I…”
He struggled to finish his sentence.
I love you, Mikhail.
Was that what he wanted to say?
Mikhail reached up and smoothed his fingers tenderly across Fergus’s lips and it was as though he could feel the words on his fingertips. The phrase that Fergus could not form as audible was tangible enough to be touched and felt.
“I know you do…” he whispered as he slipped from the chair and into Fergus’s arms. They embraced, their mouths so close, the breath between them mingled and entwined in the way that Mikhail wanted their bodies to be. He felt intoxicated and this only increased when Fergus leaned closer to bring their lips together in a soft kiss.
That was the taste of chocolate that would knock Mikhail from his diet forever.