Chapter 2
Pip
A few years later
I kicked my feet as I sat on the crossbeam at the top of the warehouse. My rifle was in hand, ready to jump into action, should I need it. There was still some time before people showed up.
While this place wasn’t as special to me as the old warehouse we’d originally met in, the one I lost in a fire after a fun night with a torch and several dead bodies, it still held a familiarity for me. I’d been here enough times to know all the best hiding spots.
Rel had mentioned things might get dicey today. He wanted to have me here to watch his back.
It was an offer I couldn't turn down.
Not because I needed the money. More because I was bored out of my goddamn mind.
Everything in life had become monotonous. It was the same over and over again.
Where had the fun in killing gone?
Where had my bloodlust taken off to?
I could take my time, and it would feel as quick as if I just put a bullet in someone. Whereas I used to enjoy every minute I got to hurt someone else, now all I wanted to do was get it over with to see if I could find the next high.
Drugs were never my thing. I'd seen what they did to people. I didn't want to let myself go down that path. Same with drinking, though I did indulge every now and then with a sip or two.
But my focus had always been on the physical. The sweat that would come after a great workout. The physical exertion that fighting brought.
And then there was the peace that settled over my mind any time I got to take a life.
The bloodier the death, the better I felt.
For years, I had built a reputation around it. Everyone knew to call me if they needed a job done and they wanted to leave a mess behind. All I needed to know was who, when, where, and how dirty I could make it.
I was kind of hoping that I'd get a shot at someone today. It wouldn't alleviate this buzzing under my skin, but maybe it would feel better to help out an old friend.
After all, Pharrell and I went back years. We had known each other because of a mutual contact, a man who now sat six feet under thanks to a bullet I put in his brain when he tried to double cross me.
I never held his actions against Rel, though. He was just as angry when he heard the man attempted to off me.
I was the best in the business. Losing me would hurt Rel just as much.
That asshole didn't understand that. All he saw was a loose end to his madness. He'd been trying to cover up his trail before the police came after him.
Which was bullshit.
I never left a trail behind. People didn't know it was me unless I wanted them to.
And the cops? I mentally scoffed. They never saw me coming or leaving. Even if they had, they wouldn't be able to find me.
I was untraceable, a ghost, the nightmare that made you wake up and wonder if it was real or not.
Men trickled into the warehouse, bringing me back to the job. They talked about whatever boring crap they had going on. I could tell they were curious as to why they got called in. More and more of them showed up, all of them just as fucking clueless.
And then I saw him.
My Henny.
Rel's actual right-hand man now. Because what Rel had also told me when he said I needed to come in for this job was that his wife was dead.
Good riddance. She never liked me. Which was fine because I wasn't that fond of her either.
Not for anything in particular. Just her vibes were off.
I took a lot of stock in how someone made me feel. And Stasia Lyon was not the good fuzzy warm feeling. The first time I met her, I almost hissed to keep the bitch away.
Henny did though. Made me comfy—not the hissing part. Keep up.
That man had me all twisted up inside. He made the buzzing under my skin bearable. I wanted to be near him all the time, but I couldn't.
It didn't make any sense for me to always be around him. I was never one to stick around. I traveled all over, taking jobs wherever I could and stashing money away like I was a dragon hoarding gold.
Staring at him now, though, I wondered if maybe it was finally time to be still for a while. Would sticking around and supporting Rel be that bad? He was as close to a friend as I allowed. And he always paid me on time.
Besides, I had enough money to keep me going for a while, even if he was late on payment for some reason. The man was grieving.
Not the woman he'd lost, but the safety he knew. The life he thought was good wasn’t.
Even though the two didn't have a romantic thing going on, they were best friends. It's why I never told Rel that she was a piece of shit. Why I never complained when she would scoff at me or whisper snide remarks.
Lost in my own thoughts, I missed the moment Rel walked in.
Silence descended, which brought me back to the present real fast. A still room full of men was a dangerous one. Or in this case, an obedient one.
He instructed everyone to put their weapons to the side, then went about giving a speech on how things were changing. I brought my eye up to the scope and scanned the room, taking note of who was physically reacting to his words. You could interpret a lot with body language.
I was the master of reading it.
More than a few men were going to be a problem from what I could see. The way they kept giving one another subtle looks. The clenching of their firsts. I’d bet a fuck ton of money on them attempting to take a stand.
When one in particular stepped forward and spoke out of turn, I decided it was time to make my presence known. I shot him dead between the eyes.
Kill shot, baby.
As his body collapsed, several pairs of eyes turned my way. I didn't dare move from my position because I needed to be ready should someone else try to step outta line. They might not have had their weapons on them, but men in danger did stupid shit. I'd seen it many times.
Rel wrapped up the meeting and took some people away for deeper interrogations. Once he was gone and the coast was clear, I made my way down. It was time to get to business.
There was no room for error. No chance of things being calm.
Rel had to rebuild his business to find who was loyal and who wasn't. Since these were his men, the people he’d grown to trust, I knew he’d need someone else to help. That would be my reasoning for sticking around.
Not the fact that I was finally ready to make Henny mine. Enough time had passed. He’d had his freedom. Now he’d have me.
Rel wouldn't turn down my help. While he’d been wrong about his wife’s allegiance, he was still an intelligent guy. Plus, he knew I didn't have a secret agenda.
Money was one of my biggest motivators, not power. Well, money and Henny.
Oh, and murder. Can’t forget the murder.
I kept to the main area while shit went down. It gave me the chance to keep watch over the men waiting. I was also close enough to be backup should they need me.
When I saw the last of the men coming out of the room looking properly scared, I decided it was time for me to join the fun. I burst into the space, throwing the door open quickly.
Henny lifted his gun in an instant, pointing it my way, and I grinned, not stopping my stride. My rifle leaned on my shoulder, still easily at hand should I need it.
“What a fun day,” I said. “When can we do it again?”
Rel laughed. It was the same one he'd given me when I told him I wanted to play whack-a-mafia-man with my gun today. I had hoped there would be more to take care of, but getting one shot was good enough for now.
There would be more in the future.
Rel answered me, saying, "Hopefully not for a while, and maybe next time it will be with people not in my employ."
I sighed, acting put out. "Yeah, well, that part sucks. Still, I love a good brain blow. It's so beautiful to watch how they splatter. It's art.”
Blinking rapidly, I held my free hand to my chest as if I were swooning over the idea. Sure, I was hamming it up for them, but at the same time, it was true. I did love a good explosion of the skull.
Nothing like it, really. It reminded me of those Jackson Pollock type paintings, except with brain matter instead of paint.
"That's a bit disgusting," Henny told me, his voice full of disdain.
While I knew he didn't like all the dirty bits of the business, I knew he could hold his own. The way he had raised a gun at me in a blink… yeah there was skill in my man’s history.
I shrugged, taking my rifle to point at the dead ones in the room, no doubt done by Rel.
“Would you rather worry about one of these fuckers trying to slit your throat in the middle of the night? Yeah, didn't think of that. You’re second now, Henny. Have some sense of self-preservation.”
He hated that nickname. It was obvious in the way his cheeks turned pink and his brow dipped.
I fucking loved when he did that. His frustration revved up my desire. It made me want to say something even more outlandish to get a rise out of him.
Rel interrupted the tense moment between us. “Henri, I need to go make a few calls. You handle this. Pip, you’re with me for a bit longer. I’ll pay an hourly rate to have you watch my back until Henri and Jean are done.”
I saluted him, thankful for his lead. I would have absolutely volunteered my services to him as well. This way, it took it off my shoulders.
“You’re speaking my language, Boss. Lead the way.”
It was yet another nickname that irked the men around me. Rel was always boss in front of others. And Henri was Henny. Jean was JJ. That’s just how it was.
I decided that from the minute we met. And it had stuck.
I followed Rel out of the room, tossing one glance over my shoulder to see Henny staring at the bodies with a look of sadness. I bet it was ‘cause he didn't want to take care of cleanup.
It definitely wasn't because he was remorseful over them. For as long as we'd both been at this, I knew he couldn’t possibly be squeamish anymore.
When we reached the office, I couldn't help the way my lip curled, taking in all the decorations lying around.
“You do all this yourself, or did you bring in a prissy bitch to do it for you? Gotta say, it’s not my fave look,” I muttered.
Rel explained that his dead ex-wife had taken care of it all. I dropped into a chair across from the desk and kicked my boots up. My rifle, now leaning by the door, left my hands free, so I tucked them behind my head as I waited for what needed to be said.
Part of me already knew what we were getting into. Rel would only call me along if he needed me for a specific reason.
Sure enough, when he dialed the number and the man on the line answered with “Da?,” I knew what I was here for. I was going to be witness to him explaining to Stasia's family that she was dead.
Henny probably should have been the one to come in, but it was more likely that I would have fun cutting up the dead bodies and making a mess of the interrogation room than actually doing cleanup.
It was just too much fun.
I was a freaky asshole. Sue me.
The conversation quickly devolved into chaos. I heard the moment the man on the other end, Vlad, head of the Russian Bratva and Stasia's uncle started speaking in Russian.
I reached across the desk and snatched the phone, putting it on speaker and muting it at the same time. As he went on, I understood bits and pieces, none of which were good.
He wanted to come after Rel. Wanted to take down the family and anyone who stood aligned with them. He wanted retribution for his niece, and he didn't fucking care how he got it.
I explained all of it once the call was done because I needed him to know. Needed him to understand that he not only had to fix what Stasia had damaged here at home, but he had an adversary coming up against him as well from the outside.
My stay became more complicated.
I couldn't complain though. The idea of getting to take out some of the Bratva men excited me. A few of those assholes had tried to pull one over on me years ago. Thought they could cheat me out of some money.
After I bashed a few heads in and broke some kneecaps, they accepted defeat and wired over the rest of what I was owed.
But I wasn't one to let a grudge go.
I was a petty bitch.
I knew it.
Everyone else did too.
So it would be no surprise to those Russian fuckers if I showed up ready to lay waste to them all. Because it was what I was owed.
It could be ten years from now, and I'd still feel like I needed to get back at them. I wouldn't be settled until they stopped breathing.
Maybe that was part of the reason I felt that itch under my skin. Maybe it was a restlessness because I needed to go down the list of people who'd done me wrong and take out my vengeance.
But that didn't explain why being around Henny made it better.
It was a mystery I couldn't solve. I wasn't really sure if I wanted to either.
Part of my fascination with Henny came from not knowing. It was being close but not close enough.
I also understood that the buzz under my skin was part of what made me so good at my job. The more restless I was, the more I would get the kill done without distraction.
Rel wrapped up his business, and I took off to settle my sleeping arrangements.
I would be living in his home in one of the spare bedrooms because it was easiest. That meant I needed to check out of the hotel I was staying in, gather all the weapons I had stored in my storage units, and put them close to home.
If there was going to be an attack, I needed to have a full-scale armory at hand. Plus, it would be good to get some practice in on the range I knew Rel had built for his men.
I never wanted to get rusty.
The more accurate I was with my shots, the quicker a job could get done, the quicker I could get paid.
It also helped my decision to know that Henny stayed close by. He had a room available to him at Pharrell's house, but he also kept a place in one of the casinos, which meant that he would be in and out of the home that I would be calling mine temporarily.
More face time with Henny? Yeah, I could get used to it.
Question is, would he?