4
“Wait there until they arrive this time.”
I let out a quiet huff of breath at his words and leaned the bulk of my weight against the BMW behind me, settling in for the wait. If I walked away before the clean-up team arrived this time, I’d be out.
Being family meant fuck all to him—the man I now called my boss—and that really pissed me off. Family had meant everything to my uncle, but I supposed not everyone could have decent values. I also supposed that the shit that I had been pulling recently had been the kind of shit that he couldn’t simply ignore. Fuck knows I wouldn’t be standing for it if anyone acted this recklessly, this arrogantly, when it was my time to take over.
“I’m being watched.” Remembering what he had said earlier when briefing me on this job, my eyes snapped up to the top of the building opposite me, spotting a tiny imperfection in the smooth line of the roof. I held the location in my gaze as I wondered if she was reading my lips from her not so hidden spot. I knew that if the roles were reversed, I would be.
“Hey beautiful,” I said, throwing a mocking little wave her way, hopeful that the compliment had pissed her off just as much as it had probably pissed off my boss. My guess was that the girl up there was important for whatever reason, since I had been told that I wasn’t allowed to kill her if I ever came face to face with her. That seemed a little unfair to me.
“Adonis, don’t fu—”
Yep, he was pissed.
“Oh calm down,” I cut across him, not caring that he had probably killed men for far less. In fact I knew he had. I had witnessed it. Once, a long time ago, back when he had come to visit one summer, he had shot a man for addressing him incorrectly. I had been in awe back then. “I’m behaving myself.”
He let out an aggravated growl, and I could almost guarantee that it was taking a hell of a lot of willpower for him to not throw his phone at the wall. “Don’t fucking push me, Son. Remember your place.” With those lovely parting words, the line went dead.
I decided to call it what it was; a successful evening. One wound up boss, one dead piece of shit, and one hopefully very irritated girl having a tantrum on the roof.
Why it had taken me this long to step into my role here was beyond me now. I was certain that I would never willingly go back to my old life.
Mallory Fields, the girl on the roof, had quite the reputation. The first and only female gang member in this town. The girl who never misses. The queen of headshots. Some even believed that she might be close to wriggling her way up to become Lorenzo D’Angelo’s second, knocking that arsehole, Grey, down a peg, or ten.
Finding out that she was the one who would be here, a rival on the same job, had me so damn excited. All I had been able to think about all evening was how it would feel to beat her to this kill. It was the kind of confidence knock the girl needed, and it was doing great things for my ego.
Keeping my eye trained on the spot where she was still sitting, I curled my lips into a smug smirk. Would she shoot me? Doubtful. She knew as well as I did that we were being watched. She knew that I knew she was there, and that my boss was aware too. Shooting me would not end well for her. If it truly was her goal to reach the top of The Brotherhood, she wouldn’t do anything reckless, D’Angelo wasn’t the type of man to tolerate insubordination from his men. Women. Whatever.
I would also be just a little disappointed if she did decide to shoot me. What a boring way to go. And what a boring way to get back at the guy who had just stolen away your prized kill.
A few minutes later, I noticed that the view I was staring up at had changed slightly, indicating that she had finally left. Just in time, as a tall guy dressed all in black approached me.
“Don, we’ll take it from here.” He glanced at the floor next to where I was still leaning against the dead arsehole’s car. “Dammit, Adonis,” he groaned, “Are you really a shit shot, or do you make these kinds of messes on purpose?”
With my mouth twisted in its cruel smirk, my default expression, I pushed off of the car, and silently strolled away, leaving a short trail of bloodied boot prints in my wake.