2. Devon
Chapter two
Devon
W ith well trained precision, the moment the door swings open, I’ve fired my Glock and shot dickhead number one between the eyes.
It’s just too easy sometimes.
Dickhead number two is a different story.
He shoots, his aim off because of my ‘tada’ act, and the bullet merely scrapes my shoulder before I fire two rounds, one into his arm, causing him to drop his gun, and the second in his leg, so the fucker can’t run.
Then he cries out like a whiney fucking cat is being strangled.
“Shut the fuck up!” I boom, storming towards him and kicking his weapon across the room where it slams to a stop against a pew end.
“P-please don’t k-kill me,” he fucking begs, and I sneer at the nerve of him.
“Who the fuck sent you?!”
“I-I can’t s-say.”
I shoot his other leg, and this time I don’t just hear his cries, but a whimper behind me from the sweet little blonde mouse still in the confessional.
Fuck.
I’ve never seen a woman so sweet yet so made to be a man’s plaything before. It could be her plump pink lips that has me imagining them wrapped around my cock. Or maybe her satin smooth skin that flushes so brightly there’s no mistaking her arousal. Or perhaps those big doe like eyes, so blue yet so dark from her nearly blown irises, giving away her lust.
As the man before me tries and fails to drag himself in the other direction, I refocus on him and put the little mouse to the back of my mind until later.
“You fond of your tiny cock?” I hiss, taking a few steps closer to loom over the ratty looking fucker. “Because it’ll be my next target.”
“P-please Mr Marx. I had no choice. He said he’d kill my family if I don’t do this.”
“Boo-fucking-who,” I snap. “Give me his name.” I aim my gun.
“I don’t know it!” the man rushes out, holding up his only uninjured hand. “I’ve never met him. Only spoken to him on the phone. But he calls himself Mr V.”
“And what were his orders? Word for fucking word!”
“K-kill Devon Marx at the St Catherine’s Church on Tuesday evening or else my sister and her three kids will die.”
Taking a moment, I study the guy who’s probably a low income earner given his basic clothes and lack of dental hygiene. Could even be as close to homelessness as one can be before it actually happens.
I may not know him, but I don’t think he’s lying.
“Your name?” I demand, and he starts sobbing.
“Phillip Randall.”
Nodding, I lower to my haunches and lean in close. “I’ll make sure your sister and her kids remain safe.”
Relief washes over his features only to rush away a moment later when I press the muzzle of my gun to his head, and pull the trigger.
The shot is so fucking loud, echoing in the space, and it takes a moment for my hearing to return.
That’s when my men finally fucking burst through the doors with their guns raised.
“The fuck happened?” Finn snaps, charging towards me as the others fan out .
“What the fuck does it look like?” I ask my best mate, who is my second in command as I straighten and shove my gun back into the waistband of my pants.
“Ahh, Dev?”
The question comes from Miles, one of my soldiers, and I turn to find him hovering by the open door of the confessional. And then to her.
Those big blue eyes are round with what’s most likely disbelief, and a shit ton of fear, my little mouse clearly in shock over what she just witnessed.
The blare of a phone ringing stiffens us all since none of us ever have our sound on our ringtones, and we look around to find the source.
“It’s coming from the dead guy.” Finn points down to Phillip Randall’s lifeless body.
Bending down, I search his jacket to find the source and see the name “Mr V” flashing across the screen.
Fuck. It’s the man that ordered my hit.
“Check Father Peters,” I bark to whoever, pointing over to the pew closest to the confessional where I noticed him hiding.
Well, I hope the ball he was curled in under the seat was him hiding, otherwise he’s either injured or dead, and I can’t fucking comprehend the possibility that he got killed instead of me.
Two of my men move towards the pew Father Peters is under, while I hit answer on the phone speaker and wait.
“You’re a hard man to kill.”
My eyes meet Finn’s, and he steps closer to listen.
“Wanna tell me who the fuck has broken one of our most sacred fucking rules?” I snap, and the man chuckles.
“And what rule is that? Daring to go against a Marx family member?”
“No. The fucking rule where churches are sacred ground and we don’t bring our wars to them!”
“Well since I don’t live by the rules put in place by made men, I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
A low deep growl reverberates in my chest, and a flash of heat rushes over me as I fight to keep calm.
I want to point out that I’m not a made man since I’m not Sicilian, or residing in America, but that lesson will have to wait for a later fucking date.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Again, he chuckles. “Someone you shouldn’t have fucked with.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down very fucking much,” I point out, and Mr V clucks his tongue.
“No, I don’t suppose it does. Maybe you should stop fucking with other people’s lives.”
Fuck. That still doesn’t narrow it down.
“And you most definitely shouldn’t kill people’s loved ones,” the man says darkly, and again, it still doesn’t narrow it down.
This shit comes with the territory of being a part of Victoria’s most ruthless crime family. People die. It’s as simple as that.
If they fuck with us, or run with those who are the truest forms of the scum that walks this earth, then yeah, they are gonna find themselves fucking dead by a Marx hand.
“You sound like nothing more than a coward if you are blackmailing other people into doing your dirty work for you.” I point out and he scoffs.
“Looks like you’re a coward too then, since blackmailing people is one of your specialties.”
“You know what else is my specialty? Chasing fuckheads like you to the ends of the earth until you’re begging for mercy, only to die by my hand.”
“Maybe,” he hisses, “but until then, you’d better keep looking over your shoulder, Devon .” He draws out my name like it’s a foul taste on his tongue. “Oh, and to make it interesting, just so you can have a taste of your own medicine, I think I’ll start killing people you care about before I get to you.” He chuckles through the line. “You know, just for the hell of it.”
“Nice try, arsehole. You’ll never get close enough. ”
“Oh really? What about your little blonde side piece still trembling in the confession booth? I bet I can get to her.”
My wide eyes dart to the little mouse trembling with fear, her arms wrapped over her chest as she stares at the slate floor, before I shoot them back to Finn.
Fuck.
He can see us.
“And the things I’d do before I kill her,” he continues. “I’ll even record it and send you the video once I’m done. I might even insist she keep those sexy fucking heels on.”
My eyes mimic Finn’s, wide shock before I mouth, ‘cameras’.
Realisation crosses Finn’s expression, and he steps away, probably to find Dominick, who’s not only really fucking talented with a gun and knife, but is a hacking wizard.
“She’s not my girl,” I snap, trying to keep this fucker talking in the hopes he gives something about himself away.
“Isn’t she? Then why save her and not Father Peters? You dived into that booth on her like your very existence depends on hers.”
“She is nothing but an innocent woman that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I point out.
“Oh how unfortunate for her,” Mr V says empathetically before his tone fills with nothing but hate as he yells. “It looks like she’s just another bystander that becomes collateral damage in everything you fucking touch!”
The line goes dead then, and for a long tense moment, there’s not a sound to be heard in the church.
What the fuck just happened here?
My gaze drops to Phillip Randall as I remember the promise I gave him. Not that he deserves to get a promise, but his sister and her three children don’t deserve to suffer.
“Lenny!” I bark, dragging my gaze from Phillip to find our shortest soldier, but just as fierce as everyone else, charging my way. “Do an ID check on both of them,” I order, and as he nears I lower my voice to a whisper in case Mr V has audio feed into the church. “Find out who their families are and send a crew to do a welfare check. We may need to provide them protection as well.”
“Yes, boss.”
I roll my eyes. “Cut the shit, Lenny. How many times do we have to go over this? You’re not in the police force anymore. Just use my fucking name.”
He smirks, nodding. “Yes, boss.”
He doesn’t even flinch at my glare, the fucker not scared of anything. Not even me.
I’m not sure I like that.
“Cameras and audio are down,” Dom calls from the doorway as he hurries in with Finn, and even though it’s a relief to know the arsehole that ordered my hit tonight can no longer see or hear us, it doesn’t fucking ease my tension, because what the fuck! Someone tried to kill me on sacred fucking ground!
“I want everything you can find on these two,” I bark at both Dom and Finn as they stop before me. “Go through their phones, computers, contacts, fucking everything and find me Mr V!”
“On it.” Dom nods, before dropping to search Phillip’s body.
“Now tell me why the fuck you took so long to get in here from the street?” I snap at Finn.
“I already told you on the fucking phone. We couldn’t get out of the car.”
“Why? Because your hair would frizz in the rain?” I snap, and Finn smirks.
“Besides that.” The fucker chuckles before turning serious. “We couldn’t unlock the doors. We were locked in, and since the windows are bulletproof, Lenny had to slash through the back seat and smash his way into the trunk to break us out.”
“The fuck. Why wouldn’t the doors unlock?”
“Fucked if I know. Both cars were locked down.”
Fuck. This doesn’t make sense. How could that happen?
“Get the others and do a sweep of the vehicles. Mr fucking V knew we would be here. He’s been tracking us somehow. The vehicles have obviously been compromised.”
Finn nods. “I agree. Want me to ask Conrad to send some cars?”
I don’t particularly want to involve my cousins but since they are at the top of the food chain here in Melbourne, if I don’t, it’ll probably end up biting me in the arse if I don’t fill them in.
“Fuck it, yeah. Call Connie.”
Finn chuckles. “He’s gonna kick your arse if you keep calling him that.”
I shrug. “I’d like to see him fucking try.”
Conrad is one of eighteen spawned by the head of our family, Ewan Marx. My old man Leon, Ewan’s brother, doesn’t exactly see eye to eye with his older brother’s ruling, mainly because my dad prefers to cause chaos wherever he goes, and Ewan demands compliance and adherence to strict rules. Rules which some of his own children fail to comply with.
“You’re still in the Lord’s house, Devon.”
Father Peters’ voice draws my gaze from Finn, and I take in the old guy looking more frail than I’ve ever seen him, yet the scowl in his expression remains firm.
“Apologies Father.” I offer for my bad language. “Are you alright?”
He waves me off. “Just a bump on my head. Nothing serious.”
That’s a fucking relief.
Even as I think that, Father Peters wavers on his feet, and Miles hurries forward to catch him.
“Shit. Call the doc. Get him over here,” I demand and Finn hurries to do that.
The hurried click of heels on the stone floor of the church draws my attention to see blonde hair fanning out behind the slender body of the little mouse I’d been enjoying the company of in the confessional as she tries to flee.
“Miles,” I bark, gaining his attention. “Stop her.”