Chapter 3 #2
Silently, I studied the fucker, watching him squirm.
Hands at his sides, he shifted from foot to foot, his thumbs and forefingers tapping a steady beat.
Four years older than me, he was eighteen when he assaulted a girl at a family gathering and tried to blame it on me.
I beat the shit out of him and knocked out his two front teeth, forcing him to have them replaced with implants.
After that, he made sure to steer clear of me.
“Either you’re as dumb as the first day you sucked your mother’s tits, or you think my brother is?
” When Lorenzo mentioned Tony had accompanied the driver delivering Hector’s consignment, I knew he’d not only played us, he’d cut a deal with someone to sell the white powder.
His first mistake was allowing Hector to threaten Lorenzo.
His second was assuming that crying ambush would make me feel pity.
He dragged a hand down his face, his eyes darting around the room, a telltale sign of his anxiety. “Fuck, man, I should’ve been–”
“Honest?”
Emin moved closer to him and that somehow gave my cousin the inspiration to be a overenthusiastic idiot.
“I’m not under the Rossi empire anymore, Remo.” Tony puffed out his chest, squaring his shoulders as if his scrawny frame could intimidate me. “I have friends in higher places now, so you can quit being all important because I no longer give a shit and I’m not about to kiss yours or Lorenzo’s ass.”
My hand snapped out so quickly the fucker barely had time to evade it before I grasped his neck and faceplanted him to the table.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?
” I seethed, pressing his cheek to the solid wood hard enough to turn his skin an unhealthy red.
“I will rip your fucking cock out your mouth and have you re-ingest it, just to taste what a useless fucking dick you are.”
Emin pulled out a gun and aimed it at me. “Let him go.”
Slowly, my head lifted, my eyes skating upward from my struggling cousin to the Armenian fucker. Silence descended on the room. The dons and underbosses who knew me, drifted toward us, their expressions a mix of curiosity and shock, no doubt waiting to see how this would play out.
“I said, let him go.” Emin jerked the gun forward.
Head titled, my quiet chuckle stilled my cousin’s squirms, widened the older man’s eyes and had some of the others take a step back.
“His greed threatened my brother’s life and anyone who knows me, knows I don’t take lightly to that,” I growled, giving my free hand a subtle shake to let Verità, I kept hidden in my sleeve, slide into my palm.
Surprised, Emin’s eyes jumped from my face to the large blade and back. “What about my brother, you bastard?” The show of confidence didn’t fool me, I detected the underlying fear in his words.
I shrugged. “Not my problem. He should’ve known better than to offer us young girls.”
“What?” Emin looked confused for a moment, his gun dipping lightly.
“Hmm.” I grinned. “Looks like my cousin didn’t give you all the details, did he?” I let go of Tony’s neck.
He jolted upright, coughing relentlessly to get his breathing under control. “Jesus, fuck, Remo!” he rasped, massaging his neck. “You almost killed–”
“What is he talking about, Tony?” Emin asked, cutting off his rant.
“We…um…he…” he began then trailed off.
“Speak!” Emin barked.
Nodding, Tony took a deep breath. “Everyone knows the Rossi coke is unmatched this side of the state lines. Superior product, no adulterants, mind-blowing euphoria and fuck all come down. Your brother wanted to get his hands on their product for distribution in Europe. Instead of cash, he offered them young girls as payment.”
The Rossi’s were old money. Sovereigns of crime, from laundering fortunes through legitimate businesses and classy casinos, distributors in military grade weapons to high-end drug merchants but we never touched human trafficking, not even with a fingertip.
Emin muttered something in his language. It didn’t take genius to figure out he was cursing his brother.
“Why don’t you tell him who introduced his brother to us, Tony?” My words pulled Emin’s quizzical look.
Tony swallowed, his expression going from pussface to vomit green, knowing his game was up. “You have to understand, Emin, I–”
“Who!” the older man bellowed.
“Someone told your brother I was related to the Rossi’s, he came looking for me at a club.
We got talking and then he asked if I wanted to taste his girls.
After, he suggested I set up a meet with Lorenzo.
I told him not to take any girls with him, he didn’t listen.
The second he offered up the girls, he was told to get lost. He made the mistake of pulling a gun on Lorenzo and…
” he trailed off, his eyes darting to my face.
“You cunning bastard.” Emin slapped him across the face, hard enough to make his body jolt sideways, opening the cut on his lip and forcing him to grab the table to keep from losing his balance.
“I’m sorry, Emin, I’ll make it up to you.” Tony dabbed at the blood on his lips. “I got this deal all lined up for you.” He pointed to the guns on the table.
Bloodlust ignited inside me, decimating that last sliver of control. “You slimy peace of shit,” I sneered, pulling both their attention.
Tony barely noticed the machete before it fell to his hand holding the table. I closed my eyes, savoring the harmonious melody of bone shattering as his hand parted clean off at the wrist.
“What the fuck?” Tony’s scream merged with startled curses and howls of laughter from the others. Dropping to his knees, he clutched his bleeding wrist to his chest, his upper body rocking back and forth as if it would help in some way.
“That’s for stealing from us.”
“You sick fuck.” Tears rolling down his cheeks, he glanced around while his agonized sobs echoed through a room filled with vindictive men who wouldn’t bother helping him, not if I was still there.
Hearing the commotion, Gian ran to my side, his gun drawn, his face taut with concern until he noticed Tony and his eyes shifted to the dripping machete I held at my side.
His jaw flexed and his lips pursed into what I’d almost consider a pout.
“I missed all the fun?” he accused, watching Tony slowly rise.
Gian’s bloodlust might rival my own, he had yet to learn how to control it.
A humorless smile tugged at one corner of my mouth. “Not yet.”
Tony froze mid-motion, hunched over his ruined wrist, blood dripping steadily between his fingers.
His head jerked up, face slick with tears and sweat, lips trembling around a snarl he didn’t have the strength to hold.
“Not yet?” he rasped. “You cut my fucking hand off. What more do you want, you psycho?”
I let the machete rest against my shoulder, studying him like he was something I’d already decided to break. “Your head.”
The color drained from his face. For a second he searched the room for someone to help maybe or tell him I was exaggerating. “You’re kidding right?” He shot upright, stepping back on unsteady legs. “We’re fucking family, Remo. You can’t kill me.”
Slowly, I neared him, shoes sliding through the blood pooling around him. “Says who?”
Emin was quicker on the take and jumped back a second before Tony heard the whisper of the machete flying up.
Unfortunately, it was too late. The machete came down in a precise arc, the impact reverberating up through my shoulder as steel bit into the side of Tony’s neck.
Bone resisted for a split second before ripping under the force.
Blood burst outward in a violent spray, hot and thick, coating my face, my throat, the front of my shirt.
His scream cut off mid-sound as the blade finished its path.
His head tore free in a savage snap, eyes wide with undisguised horror, it spun once before smacking the stone and rolling across the floor. One of the dons yelped and jumped aside a second too late, dark red splashing across his shoes and up the hem of his trousers.
“Fuck, Remo,” he griped, trying to assess the damage of his expensive Italian leathers.
I chuckled, enjoying the slide of blood down my jaw before it dripped from my chin.
“And that’s for almost costing my brother and Rayden their lives,” I said to Tony’s headless body, slowly toppling forward until the stump of his neck hit the floor.
The fountain of crimson following in its wake sent a thrill down my spine.
Nothing beat the pleasure of taking someone’s life.
“Trust you to talk to a dead body, Remo.” Someone laughed behind me.
Curses in different languages surrounded me as Emin’s dazed eyes darted between me and Tony’s twitching body.
“Too nauseating for you?” I wiped my chin on my arm.
He shook his head. “I’ve killed, never in this fashion though. I’m a bullet to the head type of man.”
I smirked. “Just so you know, I don’t forgive, nor do I forget. And he is…well…was family.”
“Remind me never to cross you,” he mumbled.
“You should.” I winked. His tense expression reminded me of a constricted asshole, and I gave him about five seconds before he’d throw up.
He rushed off in three. “Weak cunt.” I shook my head, wondering how some of these men made it into the world of crime when they clearly couldn’t handle gore.
Me, I lived for it. “Get me a whiskey,” I ordered Gian.
He holstered his gun and headed for the bar while I lit a cigarette and crouched beside Tony’s body. Setting my machete on his back, I took a long drag on the cig, retrieved my phone from my pants pocket and dialed Lorenzo.
He answered on the second ring. “Talk to me.”
“It’s done.”
“What?” I could hear the frown in his voice.
“Tony.”
He paused for a long moment. “How fucking dead are we talking?”
I exhaled smoke through a grin. “The scrape him off the floor kind.”
“Christ, Remo.”
“He signed his death warrant the second he chose to get into that truck.”
“Elio’s going–”
“Who gives a fuck what Elio does,” I bit out.
“He should’ve done a better job raising his son to respect his family.
” After Mother’s death, her brother, Elio, joined the Cartel as opposed to supporting Lorenzo.
Despite crossing over, he’d maintained his distance, choosing not to view us as enemies.
Now, his moral code was about to come crashing down. “The end justifies the means, Renz.”
I could hear him pacing before he said, “get a clean-up crew out there, I’ll handle Elio.”
“You should let me handle the–”
“No,” Lorenzo snapped. “Just get it done.” He cut the call as Gian approached, holding out my whiskey.
My grin wide, I took the drink, tossed it back in one go and handed him the glass.
“Get me another and the clean-up crew.” He reached inside his jacket pocket for his phone.
“Tell them, that should be delivered to his father.” I pointed to Tony’s head, aware I was going to piss off my brother and change the family dynamics with our uncle.
Phone to his ear, Gian walked back to the bar while I cleaned Verità with a pocket square.
“We did good today, partner. Fucker didn’t see you coming.
” I was edging the material into the grooves, making sure to get all the blood out when I felt it.
Eyes on me.
My fingers paused mid-wipe, that stone cold certainty I knew well, descending into my stomach.
Slowly, I lifted my head, scanning the room, allowing that eerie sense of being watched to guide my gaze for a moment.
When no one seemed out of place, I stood, fisting the square and headed for the entrance.
There, I inspected the shadows. Nothing moved.
“You okay, boss?” I turned to find Gian staring at me, his brow ridged in a frown, his fingers clasped around a whiskey glass.
Wordlessly, I dropped the cigarette and while grinding it with a heel, took the drink.
I downed the contents and let out a low laugh.
As crazy as it fucking sounded, I had a stalker.
Me. The ‘give no fucks’ killer, had a stalker.
Who in their insane fucking mind would want to stalk me?
Perhaps someone with balls big enough to try intimidating me.
Revenge was anyone’s game if the players were strategic.
I’d felt the intensity of eyes on me on a few occasions now, but I let it ride, not wanting to believe it.
The first time the sensation crept over me, I was gutting a man in an alley, the second, I was railing a woman on the table in her husband’s office.
That was almost four years ago. Somehow, this person was a persistent fuck, pretty much like me and probably why I found it fascinating.
Then the women I’d fucked began disappearing. Those that sucked my cock, landed in hospital too traumatized to talk and those I fucked, disappeared. Never to be seen or heard from again.
Given my dark persona, I didn’t care but my brother did. Lorenzo cautioned me against drawing attention to myself. He believed someone was trying to set me up. I laughed off the suggestion until the flowers became a frequency I couldn’t ignore.
A tiny niggle at my nape suggested those red eyes I’d witnessed in my dream and my stalker, were connected. How though and why, I still had to figure that out.
Handing the glass to Gian, I went back to Tony’s body, picked up my blade and sheathed it then had a quick chat with one of the dons, giving no further thought to my stalker.