Vegas Duncan Novels & Stories

Instead, I pour him a drink and ask Duncan if he would like one, too. “Oh, no thank you, Your Majesty,” he says. “My father is a priest in the temple. He always taught me to avoid alcohol.” “Yes, I’m sure he did,” I mumbled, thinking he probably told him to avoid all kinds of fun as well. “What temple?” Commander Vember asks, and I assume he’s making small talk which will slow down our work. “Oh, I come from a small pack near the west coast. Not much ever happens there.” Duncan gives a little chuckle and keeps writing.

I muttered entering my Lamborghini Duncan entered the car and drove off, my mind was on My Cherie, what if Gray is right, I swear to kill that dickhead if I ever find out he's playing games with me "Boss I have some information you might like to hear," Duncan said "What?" "It's about Douglas, he's planning something" "I thought I gave Gray that order" "Yes boss, but I followed Gray to do the investigation but at some point, Gray left to do something while I continued" "So what did you find out?" "Douglas is planning on expanding Miss Cherie's company, he wants to give her that as a birthday gift and also buy her trust, he's planning on getting back into Miss Cherie's life"

"Is that really all this is to you?" "It has to be," Duncan said quietly, his voice dropping into a solemn tone. "For your sake." He turned away from me, walking toward the glass table to grab his phone and jacket. "Where are you going?" I asked, a sudden, cold panic seizing my chest as I watched him sling his jacket over his shoulder. "I have to travel tonight," Duncan replied without looking back at me. "A friend of mine is sick in the hospital two hours out. I need to go see him."

"Duncan." His name is a flame setting every nerve in my body ablaze. I've touched myself to that name. I've fantasized about it. Now Duncan Willis is inches away, his lips hovering near mine, saying his name, his warm, cinnamon breath caressing my cheeks, and his spicy cologne filling my lungs. I swallow. "Duncan...yeah, right," I say stupidly as I lift my right hand and extend it to him, ready to shake. "I'm Kimbra."

The sun was already setting, and I was on the phone with Tony, receiving information and handing out orders in one car while Dante rode with Marcus in the other car. As soon as we reached the villa estate, we were welcomed by the hosts. “Don,” Travis Duncan stepped forward. He was a bald 50-year old man who had more wealth than his cowardly nature would imply. He was a mob boss, one of the capos in this territory who worshiped the ground I walked on, and who knew exactly the consequences of not doing so. After all, I had killed his own boss once and installed him as the head of the mob which he was once second-in-command to.

Duncan Duncan, in his invisibility form, walked into his room in the middle of the night and gently shut the door behind him before turning visible. "That's a nice ass you got there." Her voice was icy cold. Duncan flinched and spun, meeting the angry eyes of his beta. "And the dangling thing too." She shrugged and then wore a scowl immediately. "I have been waiting for the past how many hours and here you are sneaking in naked from your fuck fest?"

He put the document away, full attention fixed on George. “What is it you want to discuss?” “I heard you're acquainted with Mr. Neil Young.” A proud smile crossed Duncan's face. Neil Young was the country's best private investigator. Unlike other investigators, he didn't accept clients he doesn't feel like working for, even if you're an elite. Duncan however, considered himself an exception because they go way back, past college and high school. If not for social boundaries, he'd have considered them best friends. But alas, a peacock can only flock in the direction of its kind.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Duncan MacLeod. One of the most connected people in the hockey world. Not a player, not a coach, but something in between. The guy who made deals happen, who knew everyone's secrets, who could get you anything you wanted for the right price. We had history. Not good history. But history nonetheless. "I need information," I said. "Don't you always," Duncan said. "And here I thought you called just to chat. Catch up on old times. Reminisce about that time in—"

"I just don't want you to talk me out of it, you know? That Duncan guy is dangerous and if Magnus is associated in any way with him, that means Mom and us could be roped in too by extension. I just want to make sure he's dealt with and he only comes on this big operation every 13th." "This is a really extreme way to make sure though." Lars laughed. "Well, for what it's worth, we did the right thing. Thanks, Len." Admittedly, Len did agree they did the right thing. Duncan Penderghast's serial killings were so gruesome that he made several headlines about it. Started out by murdering his own family, Duncan branched out his shotgun infatuation into several more cases throughout United States. T

Damian didn’t move. Vega sighed, poured himself a scotch, and took a leisurely sip. “You’ve become sentimental. It’s disappointing.” “You’re mistaking love for weakness,” Damian replied coolly. “Don’t.” Vega’s eyes gleamed. “Love. A dangerous thing for a man like you.” Damian said nothing. Vega continued, swirling the ice in his glass. “I want Cavendish Hotels. You knew that already.” Damian’s jaw tightened. “Not happening.”