Slay Tricksters and Silent Skeletons (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #17)

Prologue

Bento

My stomach was growling so loudly, I was surprised the people around me didn’t look up in search of a thunderstorm.

It was cloudy, so it was definitely possible.

But nope. I was just starving. It’d been two days since I’d eaten anything, and I was ready to do just about anything for a meal.

I hadn’t resorted to selling my body for cash yet, but it wouldn’t be much longer before I did. I was getting desperate.

As a street kid, pickpocketing and stealing was all I knew.

I didn’t have an education. Everything I knew, I was self-taught or taught by some of the other homeless people.

School was a laughable idea. I’d never been.

I was born in some back alley beside a dumpster, and I’d been left there like yesterday’s garbage.

A small group of homeless people had taken me in and kept me fed, stealing formula and jugs of water until I was old enough to eat finger foods.

I had no documentation listing me as a United States resident, which put me in even more danger as I got older.

If law enforcement got their hands on me now, I’d be deported to a country I’d never been to.

To a place that spoke a language I wasn’t familiar with.

My skin tone might have been brown, but I didn’t know my heritage.

I didn’t know my mother or my father. I was only named Bento Perez because of the woman that had taken care of me while I’d been a baby had been Hispanic herself.

She’d passed away before I was a year old, but everyone just kept calling me by the name she’d given me.

I had no idea if my parents were alive, and the older I got, the less I cared. The fuck did I want with someone who’d abandoned me?

My stomach rumbled again, and I sighed, looking around for someone I could easily pickpocket. Someone who also might have some cash. Cards did me no good. They could be traced. But cash? Cash was a free-for-all.

I almost missed the Hispanic man standing beside an expensive Maserati. He was talking to another man, and they seemed to be pretty deep in conversation. Taking my opening, I moved forward and just as I was about to walk past, I reached for his back pocket—

I squeaked in alarm when a hand suddenly wrapped around my bony wrist, and within a split second, I was being shoved face first against the side of the expensive Maserati. My nose bounced off the passenger door, and I groaned when it began to throb.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, kid?

” the one I hadn’t been trying to pickpocket asked.

He leaned a broad shoulder against the SUV and crossed his arms over his chest, the black sleeves of his t-shirt straining around his massive biceps.

He arched a dark brow at me when I remained silent, trying to think of a way out of this, though I wasn’t sure it was possible.

I’d never been caught before. “You got a death wish or something?”

My stomach rumbled again. I huffed in aggravation. “No. I’m just fucking hungry,” I griped.

“Do you know who I am?” the one I had been trying to pickpocket asked, spinning me around to face him. He still hadn’t let go of my wrist, and now that we were facing each other, I could see the gun peeking out from beneath his jacket. My empty stomach dropped right to the pavement.

Fuck.

I’d dug myself a goddamn deep hole this time.

I swallowed thickly. “I, uh, no,” I stammered.

The other man made a tsking noise, drawing my eyes to him. “You ever heard of Rico Martinez?” the man asked me. My face paled. Slowly, I turned back to look at the man in front of me. “You’re lucky you’re not being hauled off to be tossed somewhere, kid. You could have died just now.”

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to drop bodies,” Rico warned me. My blood ran so cold, I shivered despite the summer heat. He ran his eyes over me. “When’s the last time you ate?”

I shrugged. “Like two days ago. Look, I’m sorry. This won’t happen again. I swear it.”

Rico snorted. “I know it won’t because I’m not giving you the choice to even contemplate it.

” I was going to be sick. I had nothing but stomach acid to puke, but I was on the verge of spewing it.

Rico Martinez was a notorious crime boss and head of the Martinez crime family.

He was dangerous as fuck, and I’d just pissed him off.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I was about to die.

Reaching around me, he opened the back passenger door, then yanked me around to face the backseat. “Get in, kid.”

I shook my head, my teeth beginning to chatter. “Really, no,” I rushed out. “I swear. I won’t do this again. I’ll figure something out. I f-fucking swear.”

Rico sighed, the sound impatient and annoyed, and then, I was being manhandled into the backseat. Rico slid in beside me, and then the door was shutting, and the back locks were engaging. I was sweating profusely now, my teeth chattering so hard, I was surprised I didn’t bite my tongue.

“Stop freaking out,” Rico snapped, irritated. “I’m not fucking killing you, kid. I’m going to give you a job where you get three meals a day, room and board, and a decent fucking paycheck. Chill the fuck out.”

“I… what?” I finally blurted, not understanding. But hey, he’d shocked me so damn well, my chattering stopped, so that was a plus. I was no longer at risk of losing my tongue.

“You’re getting off the streets,” the other man said as he slid into the front passenger seat.

The driver got in on the driver’s side, and then, just like that, we were pulling off from the curb.

Turning to face me, the man smiled at me, but it was unnerving and made my gut twist with anxiety.

There was something cold and cruel about his smile, even if he was trying to be friendly.

“I’m Alfonzo, Rico’s second in command.”

“The man you’ll be answering to and who will be training you for your new position is my personal bodyguard, Niran Chun.

He will get you everything you need, including shoes, clothes, and toiletries.

” Rico turned to look at me, his dark eyes cold and unnerving.

“I don’t normally help people, kid, so consider yourself lucky. ”

Alfonzo snorted. “Not all that lucky. Niran is going to chew him up and spit him out.”

“That’s what his job is,” Rico deadpanned, shooting an annoyed look at Alfonzo.

I fidgeted and shifted nervously in my seat. “What is my job?” I questioned, my anxiety spiking again.

“You’ll be part of my security,” Rico told me. “How old are you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Seventeen? Eighteen? I don’t have a birth certificate. I was found beside some back-alley dumpster when I was a baby.”

“Where is your mother?” Rico asked, frowning now.

I shrugged again. “I don’t know that either.”

He hummed, and silence filled the car. I didn’t open my mouth again, not wanting to piss off Rico and make him decide to put a bullet in my skull instead of offering me something halfway decent.

This was more than I could ever ask for.

And even though he hadn’t given me any choice in the matter, I was grateful to him anyway.

When we got to Rico’s huge home, I gaped and actually choked on my own spit.

Rico ignored my dramatics and pushed open his door before standing aside, gesturing for me to get out and get a move on.

I scrambled out of the car, watching as a handsome Asian man stepped outside dressed in black slacks, a black button down, and shoes so shiny, I could see the reflection of the sky on them.

“I assume things went well?” the man asked.

Rico nodded, then pushed me toward him. “Niran, this is Bento.” I’d been forced to give my name on the ride over. “He’s seventeen or eighteen. No one knows, not even him. No family. He’s our newest security guard. Train him well, but take today to get him fed and settled in.”

Niran took me in with cold, empty eyes, then nodded once.

Reaching out, he gripped my shoulder and steered me up the steps and into the huge, beautiful home.

Everything was sparkling clean and tastefully decorated.

Everyone knew who Rico Martinez was, and they also knew just how rich and powerful he was.

But holy fuck, I hadn’t known he was really rolling in the dough. Not like this.

“What is your last name?” Niran asked me.

“Perez,” I answered, still looking around the place in dumb-struck awe. “Does Rico live here by himself?”

“No,” Niran answered, leading me into the kitchen. “His security guards are here, as well as his most trusted friends. You’ll see Alfonzo around quite a bit.” Releasing me, he pointed to a stool at the island in the center of the kitchen. “Sit. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

With that, he turned away from me and began digging through the fridge, pulling out the ingredients for a sandwich. He moved like a dancer—light, quick, and silent. So silent. And even though he was cold and standoffish, there was something about him that immediately drew me in.

I just really, really hoped I didn’t end up developing a crush on my fucking boss. That would just be fucking great—not. I was as gay as they came, and I, unfortunately, was a goddamn master at forming stupidly quick attachments to people.

Thank you, abandonment issues. Never fucking let me down.

“Eat,” Niran ordered, setting a plate in front of me with two sandwiches.

He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge next, setting that beside the plate.

“After you eat, I’ll take you to your new quarters.

You’ll shower, and there will already be training clothes waiting for you, which is what you will wear until I find time to sit down and order clothes and shoes for you. ”

I nodded, too busy scarfing down my sandwich to verbally answer him. Niran leaned against the counter opposite me and pulled out his phone, typing rapidly on the expensive device.

Yeah… I was going to grow a crush on him. I could already sense it.

Fuck me. At this point, I was just a recipe for disaster.