Mafia love

The stupid look was the first to go when I slammed the door shut and jumped out at him. The fool tried to draw his gun, but he was too late. The fucker didn’t get a chance to because I drew mine first and shot off his middle and forefinger. He screamed, and blood spurted from his hand.

His scream intensified when I headbutted him into the wall and grabbed his neck. I couldn’t believe they’d sent this guy after me. Fucking pathetic.

At least give me a challenge. Not this pansy ass Nancy boy.

“Where is Victor staying?” I barked, pressing his head into the wall.

“Let go of me, man,” he wailed.

I pressed the barrel to my gun under his neck, and the man’s eyes widened. “Talk the fuck now before I blow your brains out.”

“More will come. Doesn’t matter if you kill me,” he taunted.

“Yes, I gathered as fucking much. But why waste one stupid asshole and time when I can torture the info from you?” There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the door. Maria had said there was another guy.

The door flung open, and out he came guns blazing. This guy was bigger, more in my league but not enough to take me down. I was a good shot, always. A bullet smacked right between his eyes before he could really get going.

I barely had to move the gun away from my new friend’s neck.

The other guy crumpled to the ground, leaving his shocked friend.

“You didn’t know who you were dealing with, did you?” I taunted, widening my eyes at him so he could see my wrath.

I got the shock of my life when the fool started laughing, then I noticed it. The red nose and the raw skin inside his nostrils. Then slightly dilated pupils that seemed to look more spaced out as I looked at him. He was a user. Some kind a drug addict.

Back in LA, Victor had killed Cole, Amelia’s confidant in the underground. After his death, there was a guy called Brandon, a drug addict, snooping around, sniffing around like a fucking rat. A pawn.

Definitely not a foot solider, just someone they’d sent to fuck with us. He’d ended up dead too.

This guy… he was one of them. He was a pawn, as was the other.

People knew me, and these types of guys didn’t approach a guy like me and expect to live. Victor knew that too.

And there wouldn’t have been just two of them. Two runts of the litter that barely added up to one.

Fuck.

So, they were here for something else, then. What was it?

“Why are you following me?” I tightened my grip on him.

“To give you a message, mafia boss.” He laughed, and his eyes did that crazy like jangle as he scrunched up his nose.

“Give me the message and don’t fuck with me.”

“Gladly.” He continued his laughter. I had to ram him harder into the wall.

“Talk!”

“Victor sends his love,” he sputtered.

“Does he now?”

“He says he’ll fuck your girlfriend first before he eats her. The same way he fucked Henry’s wife right in front of him before he cut off her foot and ate it.”

My hands stilled, and I lost my grip on the fool.

God. In. Heaven.

No.

No.

No.

When I’d managed to get to Henry, Victor had him hanging from the ceiling of the old mental home in some sick game where he had to try and swing across to his wife, Lydia, to save her. Her left foot had been gone.

I remembered the ghostly pale look on her face as she’d tried to hold on to life.

Below them had been the two children. Victor had strapped a bomb to the them. I thought I’d saved the kids, but I didn’t. I didn’t save any of them. To hear that more evil had happened before I got to them was heartrending.

Fucking Victor. This was how you got to a guy like me. By messing with my mind.

Screwing with my mind. I wouldn’t have known that Henry had to endure all that and Lydia had to go through that.

In my head, the image of them on their wedding day popped up. I would never forget how happy they’d looked. I’d never seen two people happier in love together. Then they went and surprised me more by being even happier when their children were born.

I would have loved to tell my friend that I, too, had found that one woman to steal my heart. The woman who could change me into what I’d probably wanted for myself all these long years.

But Henry was gone. Victor had shot him in his head, and Lydia, and he’d fed their children poison. All were dead.

Poor Lydia. That woman had been beautiful in every way and had loved Henry with her last breath. Victor had raped her.

It wasn’t often that anything brought me close to tears and madness. But this…

Jesus Christ.

I wouldn’t have known what really happened. I wouldn’t have known because in my book, no one had lived that night to tell the tale. Just one person who I’d thought was dead.

Victor.

I zeroed in on my new friend feeling the last shred of humanity slip away from me.

I raised my gun and pulled the trigger. The fool cowered against the wall when he saw that. He was, however, still laughing from whatever drug he’d taken.

My hands shook, and I realized that if I killed him, that would be ending him mindlessly. Self-defense was me. Self-preservation was me.

This was part of the game. I hated that Victor could know me so well.

Fucking bastard.

I was about to release the trigger when I suddenly imagined Amelia’s beautiful face. Days ago, when we were at my place, I’d talked about changing. Then it became evident that I couldn’t, but that was different to this. I wasn’t telling her I couldn’t change for her. I was saying I needed to do whatever I could to protect her, and I would.

I saw her beautiful face looming before me in my mind’s eye, and it stopped me from pulling the trigger.

Instead of firing the shot I was nigh of releasing, I turned and walked away, letting the fool live.

However…

My years of experience kicked in. That clicking sound.

Click-clack…

That was all I needed to hear. I snapped around quicker than he could release the trigger and fired a bullet straight between his eyes.

Self-defense, self-preservation.

It was different.

I watched him go down. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he crumpled as blood gushed from the wound.

I took out my phone and called the number for the cleanup crew.

CHAPTER 6

Amelia

I didn’t think he would answer the phone.

It rang out the first time and went through to voicemail. I could have given up and left a message, but I needed to speak to him.

Sinclaire needed to hear what was happening from me, what had happened.

I called again, and that was when he answered on the second ring.

“Taylor?” His voice sounded strange, faraway, and the name Taylor felt odd, reminding me of the fact I’d been a lie to a man who truly was my friend.

“Sinclaire, it’s me, yes.” The last time we spoke, he’d told me he was done with me. He found out about Luc, knew he was basically a fraud, and then came to my house only to find Luc leaving.

The worst thing was that the night before, Sinclaire had kissed me. My head was as crazy and foggy now as it was back then. One thing that was certain though was, I needed to bring the skeletons out of the closet.