8. Dante
CHAPTER 8
DANTE
I pull my Ferrari into the self-parking lot of a restaurant down the block from the nightclub, Fire and Ice. It’s off the beaten path, so there isn’t a whole lot of foot traffic around the place. It’s also overgrown with weeds, and there’s a chain link fence around the dilapidated building.
All good for me.
I get out of the car, the hot air damn near smothering me as I walk in the direction of the club. I’ve been down here before, so I know exactly how to navigate the area as a ghost.
It’s pretty deserted on this side of the Strip. None of the big money is down here. It’s all at the other end.
Also good for me.
Nobody gives a shit about the places around here. They only exist for derelicts and criminals.
Hell, the cops barely come down here.
I skirt around some unwieldy bushes and take a quick look around before hopping the fence. I don’t love doing hits during the day, but this is the only way to stop the scumbag from snatching any more innocent young girls.
He’s expecting to auction them off tonight, and the only way to prevent the sales from taking place is to pop a cap in his brain.
Five-million dollars.
That’s what I was paid to terminate him.
Hell, I’d do it for nothing to rid the world of this piece of shit.
The money was already wired to my account by the requestor who goes by an alias.
We all do.
The requestor knows I’m not on the job right now, so he upped my price to sweeten the deal for me.
But I only had to see the name of the target and I was all in.
Miguel Rivas is an infamous sex trafficker who operates between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. He imports kidnapped women on vacation in Mexico and harbors them in LA until the auctions are scheduled here in Vegas. He’s got a lot of guys on his payroll, but they’d scatter like cockroaches if the big fish suddenly gets his head cut off.
And that’s exactly what I plan to do to him.
I pull open the back door slowly so it doesn’t make a sound. I step inside, taking in the darkness and the damp, dank air. This club is a front, and the auctions are all held in the lower level, leaving the main floor pretty much empty, save for a few tables and chairs.
I wrinkle my nose. Smells like fucking sewage.
From what I know, Miguel is only in town for a few days to handle the sales. He’ll be on his way back to LA as soon as the cash from the sales hits his offshore accounts.
Or, so he thinks.
I pull out my gun from the waistband of my pants and hold it in my outstretched hand.
Tingles shoot out to the tips of my fingers, and I swear I get a cock jolt from the thought of pulling the trigger.
It really has been way too long…
I creep down a narrow hallway toward a sliver of light.
I can hear a thick Spanish accent coming from one of the rooms. I strain my ears to identify the number of voices, but there’s only one distinct one I detect. He must be on the phone.
Making his deals.
Ruining lives.
Fucknut.
But, I’m here.
Now, you die.
I slide along the wall, moving stealthily toward my target when a shadow flickers in front of my eyes.
If I’d have blinked, I’d have missed it.
So I stop and wait until it moves again.
This time I don’t lose a second before I fire off a few shots and hear a body drop to the floor like a bag of cement.
The silencer on my gun keeps Miguel blissfully ignorant for the time being, but I can’t waste any more time. Who knows how many more minions he’s got roaming the place?
That was rhetorical.
I don’t really plan to hang around and do a body count.
The sound of Miguel’s sinister laughter makes my skin crawl, and for the briefest second, my mind trips back to that night…
The one that confirmed my career choice.
The one that convinced me to dispose of bottom-dwelling pieces of trash like Miguel.
The one that never ceases to bring out the darkness I keep buried down deep.
My jaw twitches, and I wait for silence before I kick out my leg to bust open the door.
When it comes, I crash through the rotting wood frame
I wait until realization seeps into his fat face. He’s clearly living large in his new digs out in California.
“You know who I am?” I hiss at him as I step inside the door. The place reeks of cheap cologne, cigarettes, and weed.
“No.” His eyes widen when he sees my gun. “There is no money here.”
“I don’t want money,” I say. “I’ve already been paid.”
“What do you want?” he demands. “And how did you get?—?”
I nod my head toward the door. “You need to invest in better security. I took out one of your guys in the dark, for fuck’s sake. I may as well have been blindfolded and I still got him.”
He narrows his eyes. “You won’t get away with this. My men?—”
“I will fuck your men up,” I growl, stalking toward him. Right now, I am completely violating the job requirements. You never speak to the target. You just blow their skulls open.
Period.
But rage floods my insides, and I remember the screaming and the cries for help.
And I just can’t help myself.
I shove him backward so that he falls into his chair, and get close enough to his face that I can smell his stank breath. My gut twists but it only eggs me on. “You’re a disgusting bastard who deserves to be skinned alive for all of the travesties you’ve committed against innocent young women.” My lips curl into a sneer. “But I don’t have time for that. I only have time to shoot you in the fucking head. My loss is your gain, fuckhead.” I point my gun at his forehead and his eyes widen in fear. “It’ll be fast.”
“P-please don’t kill me,” he whimpers like a little bitch. “I’ll give you anything you want…everything! Name your price!”
“You can’t possibly pay enough money for the wrongs that have been done by you and every other cocksucker out there who steals lives,” I hiss, my breath hitching. Every time I stare one of these bastards in the face, I see him .
The man who destroyed so many lives and turned me into the killer I am today.
It was so long ago, but the chilling memory is so clear in my mind.
I had one job to do, to watch over my cousin, Emilia, and keep her safe.
But I lost my focus and she ended up dead at the hand of a guy just like Miguel.
I couldn’t stop him and failed my family and myself.
My pulse throbs against my throat as I clutch my gun.
So, as my own form of self-soothing, I take as much pleasure as I can in eradicating the planet of the others who are just as despicable, just as deadly, and just as evil.
“Burn in hell, cocksucker,” I mutter.
“Not so fast, ese ,” another slimy voice from behind me says. “Drop the gun and back away from him.” I hear his gun cock and Miguel yells to him.
“Don’t shoot, you idiot! If you miss, I’m fucking dead!”
My lips curl upward as I slowly turn to look at the person stupid enough to interrupt my hit. “So, you work for Miguel,” I say to the peon with the gun. “You know what he does and you’re okay with that?”
The guy shrugs. “Pay’s good.”
“Yeah, I bet. You got a daughter or a sister?”
“I have both,” he says.
“You love ’em?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“That’s real nice,” I say. “You wanna know something that really irks the shit outta me, ese ?” I ask.
He shrugs again.
“People who get in my fucking way!”
I fire off two shots at ese and then point the gun back at Miguel as he crumbles to the floor. A dry chuckle escapes my lips. “See? I told you. Your security sucks.” I bring the gun back toward Miguel, and with a jerk of my wrist, I pop a cap in his balls. He screams, clutching himself and tumbling off of the chair.
I snicker and then stomp on his bloody groin for good measure.
“I told you I didn’t have time to skin you, but I made time to shoot off your diseased cock.” I look down at my watch. “Shit, Miguel. I’ve gotta go. I wanted you to feel just a little bit of the hell all of the women you’ve snatched have experienced. And even though it will never come close, I want you to remember this pain for the rest of your life.” I point the gun at his temple and squeeze the trigger.
“All two seconds of it,” I grunt, kicking him in the head and shooting him three more times in the head and chest for good measure.
I stare at him, feeling the familiar flood of emotion ravage me. My heart thumps hard against my chest, beads of perspiration popping up along the back of my neck.
“Rest in hell, bitches,” I mutter as I step over the jackass sprawled across the doorframe as I walk out of the building.
I take a few deep breaths as I step outside, feeling a sudden surge of purpose. My fingers still tingle from firing my gun. The adrenaline high has my heart racing and my temples throbbing.
I’m back to my murderous self, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment.
I really do need to shoot shit more often.
Best damn therapy ever.