Inked in Darkness

Prologue

STONE

I wasn’t always violent.

Actually, I was hardly ever violent.

Life to me was a high I sought on a regular basis. I was just a junkie always looking for that first fix all over again. The one that was mind altering and addictive, but recently my tolerance might as well be a shocking dose of Narcan.

Basically, life has become as dull and as unadventurous as watching a river run dry. That is until today.

Until my thumbs pressed down against the Adam’s Apple of the man beneath me. I watch his eyes glaze over as the life slowly leaves him, my vision tunneled and clouded red.

He squirms, kicking his legs, but that fight soon becomes a death twitch. The last electric current of his nerve cells flitting by.

When his final breath leaves him, my fingers slowly unfurl from around his neck, and I crawl off him.

Letting loose a heavy sigh, I collapse against the studio chair behind me. A strong palm falls to my shoulder and urges me to look up. Tony stares down at me with an approving gaze and I can’t help the sardonic chuckle that rumbles up my chest. It escapes my lips as I shake my head.

“I owe you one.” Tony mutters, extending his hand to help me up.

I push to my feet and swipe a palm down my face, wiping at the sweat that’s formed along my brow.

“What the fuck, Tony?” I breathe, staring at the dead body beside us. “I came to give a tattoo and now, I’m leaving a murderer.”

He combs a hand through his salt and pepper hair before scratching at his trimmed beard.

“Hey, don’t think twice about what you’ve done, kid. You saved my life.”

“What was he even doing here?”

That was probably a dumb question. It’s obvious that Tony Porcelli is the don of the Italian Mafia here in Brooklyn, but he’d never say it out loud.

Instead, he reaches down and searches the young man’s pockets before snatching the gun that was just pointed between his eyes moments ago.

He flips it over in his hands, examining it as if the guy’s name would be in bright, bold letters along the grip.

“Better question is how the fuck did this bastard get in my house?”

I nod, gnawing my lower lip as I turn toward my equipment and start packing it up.

I’ve only known Tony for a few years now, and our relationship barely extends past professional, but when I saw the glint of that gun, I fell into autopilot. This was not on my bingo card for this year.

“Do I call the cops?” I finally ask, closing my travel case and praying to a God who doesn’t exist that the answer is no.

“Fucking hell, Kid. Cops? No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call my brother. He’ll take care of the body. All I need you to do is to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut and never tell a soul.”

He pulls a band of cash out of his pocket and tosses it my way. I catch it with one hand and pinch my lips.

“Not a soul.” I agree.

“Now, get the fuck outa here.” He sighs, nodding toward the door.

Without a second thought, I leave. Out the door and up the stairs of his multi-million-dollar duplex.