Lethal Submission (A Mafia Romance)

Chapter One

My grandma always said I was the bad child out of my five siblings. I’m too wild, too violent, too fucking angry to do what she thinks a ‘good’ daughter should. If only she could see me now, her heart would give out just from the sheer horror at the sight of me on my knees in a dirty alleyway. The hand coiled around my dark hair yanks my head forward.

“Suck my thick cock, whore, or I’ll tell everyone what your sister did.”

I look up at the poor schmuck in front of me. Thomas Taylor. I’ve known him for years and frankly, I should’ve killed him the moment I met him. But because my oldest sister is, was, best friends with his wife, I left him alone. Had I realized he was going to be another slimy cockroach, I wouldn’t have. Nearly three months ago, Simone, my sister, murdered his wife. It was a long time coming if you ask me. The whole family knew Bristol was no good for Simone. Simone just had to learn for herself and learn, she did. We thought it was all over. Somehow, Thomas learned of Simone’s crime and made the stupid decision to show up at my brother’s club tonight.

“Well,” I say, pulling on Thomas’ belt buckle. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Thomas’ bloodshot eyes gleam with a look of triumphant. Men never cease to amaze me with their endless stupidity. Thomas knows who I am. He knows I’m dangerous yet he’s happily letting me this close to his crotch. As if he believes he’s somehow protected from my wrath. He’s not the first man to do so and he won’t be the last. Despite my reputation, men let me get close all because I have a pretty face. Like I said, stupid.

The stench of alcohol invades my nose as Thomas sways on his feet. He groans into the late night/early morning air as I fish out his diminutive dick. I barely contain my urge to laugh. He thinks he’s thick. How cute. Another groan leaves Thomas’ throat as I pump my hand over his menial shaft. My other hand takes hold of the blade attached to my thigh. Thomas throws his head back and that’s when I strike. I bury my blade in his balls. Thomas’ body freezes, a gurgling sound coming from his mouth. He’s struggling to breathe. That shouldn’t make me so giddy, but it does. When he first showed up at the club, demanding I service him in exchange for his silence, I wanted to slit his throat then. I’m glad I waited until now, the shock on his face is worth it.

I rip my knife free from his skin and stand. Thomas startles. He can’t speak. He can’t run away. He can’t do anything except watch in horror as I fill his body with holes. I lose count of how many times I slash his skin open. Years of pent-up rage blinding me.

“I’m so sick of men like you,” I spit, stabbing him over and over again. “You think you can do whatever you want, and women just have to take it. Accept it.”

He opens his mouth, barely standing on his feet at this point. But the only sound he can make is that of a dying pig.

“Hate to break it to you, Mr. Taylor, but women?” I yank my knife free and let him fall to my feet. “Women are done accepting trash like you.”

A high goes through me as I watch him take his last breath. Killing is in my DNA. It’s a vital part of me. My entire family could kill with their bare hands. Most of them already have. There’s a rumor going around the city that the McBride clan is possessed by violent demons. They’re not far off. I wouldn’t say we’re possessed but rather that we’re born with a bloodthirsty demon already inside us. But our demons are not the same. Mine was fortified by my past. Reborn in my pain and suffering.

Droplets of blood drip off my knife, hitting Thomas’ body beneath me. I lean down to search his pockets. Besides his wallet, a few condoms, and his phone, they’re empty. No evidence of Bristol’s murder. I’ll have to have my little sister hack the phone and wipe it.

Pulling out my phone, I shoot a text to my friend Leland.

Need a cleaning behind the club.

I could go in and ask him myself, but the thought of being around all those people again makes me want to trade places with Thomas. Usually, I’m all too happy to pretend to be the social butterfly but I think I’ve hit my quota for the night.

The metal door bursts open, releasing a dull roar of the club music. Leland’s bulky frame darkens the alley. His cold, tawny eyes bounce between me and Thomas’ corpse.

“You’ve been busy,” my oldest friend says.

We’ve known each other since freshman year. We’re practically the same person, just in different models.

I shrug in response. “Handle him?”

Leland lets the door fall closed behind him. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Thank you. Did you finish the Wollinger job?” I ask, referring to the first victim of the night.

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Of course. Mrs. Wollinger was pleased.”

The way he says has me reading in between the lines. Leland is a manwhore. Sometimes the work we do requires us to get down and dirty with targets, but the clients who hire us? Only one of us gets into all that and it’s not me. I don’t even really fuck the targets anymore. For a while, the whole sex before murder spiel was nice. Fun even, but it’s old news now. I can have more fun and less drama with my drawer full of toys.

“Slut.”

Leland gives me a charming smirk, but it does nothing for me. I had my taste in high school, I don’t need a double dip.

“You love me anyway, Vivi.”

“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, wiping my knife clean.

“Going home?”

“Yeah, I’m done for the night. You?”

“Once I take care of this,” he replies, pointing at Thomas. “What did he do, anyway? Isn’t he Bristol’s husband?”

“Tried to blackmail me. He knew about Simone.”

Leland’s face falls into understanding. He looks down at Thomas, kicking his lifeless body. “Asshole.”

I scoff a laugh. “I’m heading out.”

“Text me and let me know you’re home safe.”

I give him a nod and walk out of the alley. My red sports car is just across the street. Even at four am, the streets of Sin City are littered with people. Drunks mostly, but that’s to be expected in a state where last call doesn’t exist. I watch as people pass by the alley opening. No one is peering hard enough through the dark to catch my presence. I wonder what they’d think about the body at the end of this strip of concrete. Would they scatter and run? Would they quiver in my shadow after what I’ve done? Call the cops? Not that it would matter if they did, Chief Angelo is in my brother’s pocket. He’s not going to give a shit if I dropped another body. In fact, he’d probably give me a gold star. I’m out here doing God’s work. Sure, sometimes I’m paid to take out the men I do, others I do it because I feel like it. But trust me when I say that every man who’s fallen by my hand deserved it.

Stopping at the mouth of the alley, I button my coat. Just because I can get away with murder doesn’t mean I need to go around drawing attention to myself. Once my bloodstained dress is covered, I move into the light. There’s a flurry of catcalls as I weave through the crowd and walk to my car.

“Jesus,” an older man whispers as I pass him. His hand clutches a large bottle hidden in a paper bag. “You’re a pretty one.”

I smile at him. “Thanks.”

He gives me a wink, throwing his hand back and chugging his drink. The man is tall and lanky. Excitement lights up his eyes as if my talking to him has made his whole night. I chuckle. It’s always the older ones who get so flustered when I talk to them. The young bucks are still dumb enough to think calling a woman a ‘hot piece of ass’ is a compliment. I don’t even bother thanking them. Why be polite when they were clearly never taught to be more than animals? I keep walking, not sticking around to further the conversation. The older generation may be a little more gentlemanly but they’re still men. Give them the wrong idea and they start thinking it’s theirs to take. No one knows that better than me.

I climb into the driver’s seat of my car and turn the ignition. Before pulling away from the curb, I press the button on my steering wheel to call my sister. I figure she should know that Thomas somehow figured out what happened to Bristol. Sucks I have to interrupt her honeymoon with this news though. The chittering of the dial tone fills the space as I point my car towards my apartment.

“Hello?”

“Hey Simone.”

“Hi. Why are you calling me so late?”

Well, let’s just get right to it, I guess. Simone and I used to be close. She was my rock during high school. Then she was almost killed in a car accident with her fiancée. She survived but she was really messed up. In more ways than one. After the car accident, she couldn’t have children and that really fucked with her. It was her lifelong dream. She’s always been the hopeless romantic of the family. Her and my dad had that in common, the dreamer in them. But after that day, she was never the same. Our relationship has been strained since. Mainly because she thinks I should be looking for love and settling down. Popping out a few kids for my mom to dote on now that my father is gone. But she forgets. Love and marriage aren’t in the cards for me. That dream of mine died a long time ago. Right around the time I killed for the first time. After what I went through, I knew the world needed something more from me than to be a mother and wife. They need my bloodlust. My insatiable need for revenge. They need me to be the monster for them.

“It’s early,” I say, realizing the silence has stretched too long. “I just wanted to let you know Thomas Taylor stopped by the club.”

Simone falls silent. There’s elevator music playing. An old Beach Boys song, I think? But it’s not in English whatever song it is.

“What did he want?” Simone’s voice is infused with panic.

“He knows what you did.”

“Fuck.”

“I feigned innocence at first.”

“At first? What do you mean at first?”

“He said if I sucked his dick, he’d keep his mouth shut.”

When I don’t elaborate, Simone prods me. “What happened after that?”

“I took him into the back alleyway and got on my knees.” I pause, unable to resist the dramatic flair. It’s always been annoying to her. Even though I think she’s trying to work on our relationship, I’m still gonna fuck with her. It’s what little sisters are for. “But then, I stabbed him in the dick and a few other places—he’s dead.”

“You did what?”

She sounds surprised that I killed someone.

“Don’t victim shame me. He had it coming. Practically asked for it if you ask me.”

That should be a law. Any man who propositions a lady should be prepared to take a shiv to the dick.

“Do you know who he worked for, Vivi?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t care. Body is handled. You should check and make sure he didn’t tell anyone else.”

With that I hang up. I know exactly who Thomas worked for – the Volkov family, a ruthless Russian mafia clan. They”ve been in business with my brother for years, but I”ve never come face to face with them. Rumors say they”re power-hungry and violent, even killing their own father for control. But I”m not worried. Thomas Taylor isn’t a man worth missing. I doubt the Volkov brothers will notice his absence. Even if they do, I’m not afraid of them. There’s nothing they can do to me that someone else hasn’t already tried. Men more powerful than the Volkovs have tried to take me out and failed. The thought of the brothers coming after me sends a thrill of adrenaline coursing through my veins. A twisted part of me relishes the idea of flaying them open, tearing apart their flesh and exposing their insides for all to see. I’ll waste no time reveling in the screams and pleas of mercy of the three Russian princes. If only they were dumb enough.