2. #2
“She is,” Magner tells me. “Mentally shaken, of course, but she’s being cared for.”
I nod, then clear my throat.
“You okay, Ledger?” Aras asks.
I flash a smile at him as I work on pushing aside the fragments of my past from my head. “Yeah,” I assure him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Alright.” He gives me a look that tells me he gets it , which I truly appreciate.
“So, Jedediah…” He all but spits the name.
“The asshole has now opened his own legal boxing institution, proclaiming to have realized the true meaning behind his love for boxing. He’s also hired a network of people who come into my arenas during fight nights and influence not only my audience, but also my boxers to shift their focus from underground boxing to something that ‘actually matters’.
” His expression darkens, so much so that any trace of his laidback demeanor from earlier seems like a fluke compared to the molten hatred I now see in his eyes.
“You see, Dorran; I have this policy…” he starts, then cocks his head to the side as he stares at the envelope in my hand.
“I don’t like getting my hands dirty, or else I’d have ended this dickhead myself.
But I’m a man of my word, so you’ll have to promise me to cause just as much pain to him as he has to my employee, and to me by trying to put an end to my business. ”
I grin. “I’m sure Solo didn’t recommend me to you simply for my good looks.”
Aras chuckles. “Oh no, he didn’t.” He meets my gaze, and I see that same thrill shining through them that is currently flowing through my body. Too long – it’s been too fucking long since I’ve got a taste of victory; have felt a pulse stumble and diminish under my fingers.
The thought zaps a slight shiver out of me, making Aras grin.
“I want his entire ‘team’ of do-gooders to know exactly what happens when you mess with me,” he tells me. “Make it hurt, Ledger.”
I lean back in my chair and widen my legs a little. “You can count on it.” I pull out a photo from inside the envelope and study it.
Jedediah has a typical boxer’s build: lean, tall, hands large enough to squash a head like a damn watermelon. Long, black hair that he ties behind his back, and eyes so dark they appear hollow.
I can’t wait to make this fucker bleed until he’s nothing but a corpse in the ground.
“I’m surprised he agreed to come to the gala. I’m pretty sure he knows you’re aware of all the crap he’s been pulling behind your back. Why’s he willing to risk his neck by entering your turf, then?” I place the photo and envelope back on the table before grabbing the second one.
KILL #2
SELINA RUSSEL
32. brAND OWNER.
PHYSICAL OVERVIEW INSIDE.
“I told him I wanted to celebrate him and his achievement tonight, and perhaps start things anew,” Aras states.
“The idiot thought I’d seen God’s light or some shit and agreed to attend the gala with his wife.
” He points at the envelope in my hands.
“Selina Russel. She owns some vegan makeup brand I don’t care enough to remember the name of.
She’s been advocating her husband’s new endeavor a little too loudly to the press.
Letting her live would mean giving her the freedom of accusing me of her husband’s death, and possibly causing a scandal.
So, she’ll have to go. As collateral, but she’ll have to go nonetheless. ”
“Fair.” I pull out her photo and glance at it.
She’s tall, blonde, and has that effortlessly photogenic face you see so frequently on the internet. Makes sense for her to have a social media following like the one she has.
“Do you think she knows what Jedediah did to your employee?” I ask. “I can’t imagine her wanting anything to do with him if she did.”
“Well, how about you let her know regardless,” Aras says darkly. “Right before you send her to Jesus, of course.”
I laugh. “It’d be my pleasure.”
“How much do you think she spent on…?” Magner starts, then circles a hand over his chest.
Aras clicks his tongue. “Have some shame, man. Do you always talk about the dead this way?”
Magner rolls his eyes. “She’s not dead yet . Besides, I have the right to be curious.”
“You need to be thrown out of here for the rest of the meeting.”
“As if you have the balls.”
Aras mutters something in Lithuanian, but Magner remains unaffected by it.
I smile to myself, then put aside Selina’s envelope before grabbing the last one. Reading the name printed on it, I find my brows rising as my curiosity grows.
KILL #3
TIMOTHY "TIM" BYRON
19. ASPIRING MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER.
PHYSICAL OVERVIEW INSIDE.
“Surprised?” Aras says, making me look up.
“Try intrigued .”
Timothy is Fredrick Byron’s son, who is the head of the Byron family. And that, in simple terms, makes Timothy the heir of the Byron family.
The Byrons, along with the Gaddafis, the Lutkuses, and the Rajvanshs, all but run the city of Anaheim. So, seeing Timothy’s name on the envelope does pique my interest.
“ Tim here has been selling drugs to my boxers for quite some time now,” Aras begins, then leans back in his chair.
“At first, I let it slide; I thought it was a temporary thing. But then he kept doing it, and doing it, and now I’ve had two ODs in the last three months.
I’m sure you’re aware that the Byrons deal in drugs behind the closed, opulent doors of the Michelin-star restaurants they run throughout the city, so Timothy has access to the most top-notch stuff.
And the tit-sucker has been trying to impress his father by bringing in extra money by extracting it from my people, in turn affecting my business. ”
“You think his dad is aware of what he’s doing?” I question, then check out Timothy’s photo. Red hair, blue eyes, and the face of someone who didn’t have to die if he hadn’t fucked up. Too bad I don’t give a shit.
“Fred probably knows and thinks I’m okay with it. The Byrons and Lutkuses don’t exactly have any beef, so he must’ve assumed he could send his pup to piss on my territory, and I wouldn’t say or do anything about it.”
“Presumptuous,” I mutter, then put away the photo and envelope.
“But if you guys have no conflict between you, then wouldn’t killing his son start some sort of a war?
I mean, Timothy would be dying on your property.
” And if a war was to ensue, me and my family would probably get dragged into it, and that’s something I’m not sure I want.
“Tim is disliked by a lot of people who’ll be at the gala tonight,” Aras informs. “He’s been known to have given controversial speeches about some of the upper classes on more than one occasion.
Who’s to say someone took it upon themselves to slit his throat while he was in a darkened corner of the estate, snorting some coke, or maybe fucking a rando. ”
“Wait, but I thought he was a motivational speaker,” I muse.
Aras grins. “Semantics, Ledger. Semantics.”
I chuckle.
“So, you got any questions?”
I lift a shoulder. “Just the basics: cleanup and security details. The safety of me and my crew. Location of any available emergency exit for when things get dicey.”
“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” Aras says.
“My security team knows you’ll be at the estate, so they’ve been instructed not to bother you.
The CCTV cameras will be active throughout the property, but any footage of you and the crew will later be removed, you have my word.
Any other potential evidence – fingerprints, etc – will all be erased before the cops get their hands on the bodies.
My brother has a highly-trained clean-up team, and in his absence, they won’t mind working for me.
The estate has three exits: the first is the main door, of course.
The second is a door just beyond the foyer, and leads to the back of the estate.
And the final one is in my bedroom, which is on the first floor. ”
“Perfect.”
“As for the money: I’ll transfer half of the agreed amount to your bank account before the gala, and the other half will be given to you after Jedediah has been dealt with and I’ve been shown visual proof of the same.”
“You got it.” I gesture at the photos and envelopes strewn across the table. “Send me a soft copy of these if ya can.”
“Magner will send you an encrypted email, along with the password.”
I nod again, then get to my feet. “Alright, I’ll see you both tonight, then.”
A familiar spark of adrenaline shoots through my body, and I can all but taste the blood on my tongue. Fuck, I’m so ready to get back into this; to give into the addiction while my impulses run wild.
Aras’s lips twist up in a sharp smile as he scans my face, knowing exactly what I’m feeling right now. “See you tonight, Ledger,” he says, then gives me a two-finger salute.