CHAPTER TWO
Theo
This motherfucker thinks he’s slick. I don’t care who his brother is.
He fucked with the wrong one.
Mitch knows the rules. He was born into this shit the same as I was.
What I’m about to do could fuel a war, but I don’t give a fuck. The message I send has to be clear. Nobody fucks with the Bolero Crime Family and walks away breathing.
He glances back over his shoulder, sensing that he’s being followed, but not by whom. He’s too drunk and fucked up at this point to truly notice, anyway.
I’ve been following the dumb bastard all night. Watching him go from bar to bar, consuming too much alcohol. Snorting cocaine and anything else he can crush.
He’s a loser and has only survived this long because of his last name, but it can no longer protect him.
I’m no longer interested in the truce between our families.
Not when he doesn’t abide by the contract.
I’m going to enjoy watching him take his last breath.
I’m good at what I do. Became a made man on my tenth birthday.
My father put a gun in my hand and told me to make him proud, and I did. He put me to work as a soldier. I had to earn my spot like the rest of his men.
Working my way up the ranks taught me everything. How to survive. To work smart, not hard. To never make decisions based on emotions. Emotions are for the weak.
I flick my cigarette to the ground, snuff it out, and tuck it in my pocket.
Rule number one. Never leave any evidence. Not physical or digital. My cell is back at my apartment. I’m dressed like a common thug. Black hoodie and mask that covers my head and face. Protects my identity. Black leather gloves that hide the tattoos on my hands.
Even if a camera captures my image, there’s nothing to identify me. No proof. I blend into the shadows on nights like these. Nights when I hunt.
Killing is an art.
Mitch’s body is going to be my canvas and his blood my paint.
My brush––my knife.
The dumb fuck stumbles down an alley fumbling with his zipper to take a piss.
He leans against the back of a building for support and pisses on his own shoes.
Like I said. He’s pathetic.
An embarrassment.
I slam his head against the dark concrete.
“What the fuck?” He rubs a hand over his bleeding nose as he turns around.
I pull off my mask and stuff it in my pocket. I want him to look me in the eye when he takes his last breath.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“Cassie’s a whore.”
“This isn’t about that cunt. This is about Amber.”
“I-I didn’t know she was one of yours.”
“Wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t. You’re a real piece of fucking shit, you know that.”
I shove him against the building, my forearm cutting off his airway. He tries to pull my arm away, but he’s no match.
Not that he ever has been. I took one look at Amber and it was like seeing my sister for the first time after she was taken.
I may be a lot of things, but I don’t hurt women.
“Whatever you did to her, I’m about to make it a hundred times more painful for you.”
Pulling out my knife, I see the faces of the men my father and I took out. It’s their screams I hear as I draw my arm back and plunge the knife into his gut as a preview for what is to come.
I twist the knife and I hear someone grunt in pain. The sound comes from behind me.
We’re not alone.
There’s a chick.
Fuck.
Our eyes meet. Her mouth gapes open and I can’t help but smile at the bewildered expression she wears. Innocent as a newborn kitten. All wide eyed full of wonder.
Then she throws something at me and runs.
I should go after her, but first I have a job to finish.
A man crawls out from the dumpster.
“I don’t want any trouble, man.”
“Want to make some money?”
He nods, all too eager.
“Good.” I pull out a wad of cash. And throw it at him.
I stare at the bag of cat food, debating on what to do with it. A normal person would have left it where it landed when that chick threw it. I’ve never claimed to be normal.
“When did you get a cat?” Shaw questions as he helps himself to breakfast.
“I didn’t.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he sniffs his forkful of eggs.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that cat food is an excellent source of protein?”
“Really?” he frowns.
“No. You dumb fuck.” I chuckle.
“So what’s with the bag?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You sure you haven’t hit your head or some shit?”
“Debatable. What do you know about Mercy’s Angels?”
“The animal shelter?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You’re in a real pleasant mood today,” he grumbles and goes back for more eggs as I sip my coffee and stare at the bag. “Why do you want to know about the shelter?”
More like who works there. I don’t answer him. “Nothing. Was thinking about getting a dog.”
“You know they eat dog food and not cat food, right?”
“Whatever,” I mutter and pull out my phone and type in the shelter. I scroll through their pictures, but they don’t show anything but the animals.
“Holy shit,” Shaw shouts, spitting eggs onto the table.
“What?”
“Mitch is dead.”
“Oh that. Yeah, I know.”
“Did you see what was done to that lousy sack of shit?”
“No. What’s it say?”
“Someone cut off his dick and shoved it down his throat. Says some homeless guy came forward and said it was a bald guy in a suit. Do you think it was an inside job?” He stares at me or at my lack of a reaction.
I shrug and sip my coffee.
“Shit, man. What’d he do?”
“Roughed up Amber.”
“She okay?”
“Caruso stitched her up. She will be out of the rotation for at least two weeks. Had to send a message.”
“Better hope his brother doesn’t retaliate.”
“Fuck Boomer. Mitch was a shit for brains woman beating loser. I fucking did him a favor.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Cassie’s back in town.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Nope. Just sharing information. You know she’s going to show up at some point and make a scene.”
“She can try, but I don’t give a fuck about that cunt.” Cassie is the woman I was supposed to marry. My father arranged it. But my father is gone, and she’s a traitorous bitch. I haven’t called it off yet, but I will. Soon as she shows her face.
Shaw licks his lips. “No doubt.”
“Need you to go by Lincon’s and pick up.”
“Cool. I’ll meet up with you after.”
“Put it in the safe at the club. I’ll be there later.” I grab the bag of cat food and rip off the address.
“I’ve got to ask, man. What’s with the cat food?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You’re being weird as fuck.”
I scrub a palm over the back of my neck. “There was a girl last night.”
“A girl.”
“In the alley. Mitch. She saw me.”
“And you just let her walk away? Fuck, T. Did she go to the cops?”
“No idea.”
“And you’re just now telling me this? You’re not sloppy. You don’t leave a witness. What did she look like? Young? Old? In between? Did she live in the area or was she with the homeless guy?” He paces the length of my breakfast bar. “Fuck. Why didn’t you send Bruno?”
“This was personal.”
“Because he fucked Cassie?”
“This wasn’t about that bitch. Told you he roughed up Amber.”
“Yeah, but that’s usually a fine or being banned from the club.”
“You got a problem with how I run this family?”
“No. Of course not, but this chick could be a problem.”
“And if she is, I’ll handle it.”
“What if she took a video or something?”
“She didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she was feeding cats.” I smile and tuck the address into my pocket.
“The animal shelter?”
“I’ve got this.” I pat his shoulder and dust imaginary lint from his jacket.
“That’s what worries me.”
I drive down 17th Street looking for the animal shelter.
It sits at the end of the block with its own parking lot and a fenced-in lot.
I don’t have a plan. But Shaw is right about one thing.
If this chick can identify me, she’s a complication, and I don’t do complicated or problems. I create solutions or I terminate any obstacle that stands between me and my money.
I’ve got too many people counting on me.
Like my little sister. The tuition for her private school is thirty-five grand a semester.
While that’s nothing for some people, it’s not nothing to sneeze at either.
When our father went to prison, I stepped into his shoes, becoming the head of the Bolero Crime Family.
We run this city other than the scraps of territory my father allowed the Medici brothers.
I’m done playing nice. Done sharing. Those sleazy pricks have been nothing but trouble.
They don’t care who they hurt.
All they do is fucking take shit they didn’t earn.
Nothing happens on our turf without me knowing about it.
My role became permanent two years ago when my father was taken out in a prison riot.
Someone paid off a guard, and Pops was history, and so is the guard.
I gutted him slowly. Watched the light fade out of his eyes as he took his dying breath.
My gut tells me they were behind it.
That fucking guard wouldn’t give a name. He was loyal till the end, and all that loyalty bought him was a long and painful ride to hell.
Everyone knows you don’t fuck with our family and live to talk about it.
Which is why I don’t understand why I care about this chick.
I could have chased her down and scared the shit out of her or worse, but I didn’t.
There was something intriguing about the way she stared at me.
She wasn’t exactly afraid of me. Stupid on her part, but at least she had enough self-preservation to run.
Now I have to determine if she’s going to be a problem.
I pull into a spot down the street and park my G-Wagon.
She might not even work here. She could have just adopted one of their cats, for all I know.
I barely got a look at her in the grand scheme of things.
I don’t even know if I’ll recognize her if I see her again.
That’s a lie. I can’t stop thinking about her in that stupid-looking sweater she was wearing.
Like some goody goody out to save the world.
What the fuck was she thinking being in a dark alley late at night alone?
She could have been murdered. Hell, I could have killed her and dumped her body parts in the river.
There are worse things than a quick death.
My mind flashes to my twin sister, Francesca. She was in college when she was kidnapped by an enemy of our father. They held her for days. Gang raped and tortured her. Cut off all of her hair. Tattooed her. Burned her. Beat her.
In the end, my father and I did far worse to them.
They deserved it and then some.
We got Fran back, but she’s never been the same.
She’s scared of her own damn shadow. Refuses to leave the house. Refuses to see anyone.
Not even me or Shaw.
She doesn’t talk to anyone.
Blames herself for our Pop going to prison for murdering those pieces of shit.
I only regret that I didn’t make their deaths slower.
I’m not a good guy. I don’t give second chances. I can’t afford to. Not in this lifetime.
It’s a dog eat dog world and I’m fucking starving. Rabid. Craving something I can’t even taste yet.
I shut off my car and shake off thoughts of my sister who might as well be dead she’s such a fucking ghost.
I don’t even know why I’m here. What I’m hoping to find.
Before I know what I’m even doing, I’m exiting my car.
Winter’s unforgiving wind nips at my face.
My facial hair is not doing a damn thing to protect my skin from the vicious bite of the frigid air.
Flipping the collar of my jacket up is pointless.
I light up a cigarette and pull on my leather gloves.
I dart across the street and observe the animal rescue. There’s someone sitting outside with the dogs. I don’t need to see her face to know it’s her. The chick from the alley.
“Good boy, Smiley.,” she coos at one of the dogs, scratching him under his chin.
I flick my cigarette to the ground, snubbing it out with my boot as I glance over at her, but she doesn’t look up.
Her long brown hair with streaks of blond going through it shields her face from my view.
I stick my cigarette in my pocket and continue down the street, ducking into a peddler’s mall.
One of those places where people rent booths and sell used shit that no one really wants.
“Come on in and take a look. Everything is priced to sell,” an elderly man greets me.
I bet it is. I lift my chin in his direction and walk down the first row of booths, hating the musty smell of all this old junk. Now that I’ve found her, I can’t help but wonder who she is.
If she’s told anyone about what she saw. If she’s planning to or is she hoping to forget…
Closing my eyes, I try to remember her face. The shocked expression she wore when our eyes met. The curiosity her gaze held for those brief seconds when it felt as if time was standing still for the two of us. Like something shifted in the universe.
Shaw would call me crazy if I told him I don’t know if I want to hunt her down to silence her or to kiss her pretty bow-shaped lips. One detail I can’t forget is the pink sweater with red hearts on it she was wearing.
Some real cutesy girlie shit.
Something my little sister Jillian would love.
I open my eyes and glance at the booth in front of me that’s full of dog and cat beds.
The universe has a funny way of answering questions, even when you haven’t even asked.