I’ve worked for the Sergio family since I was a teenager. He somehow got me out of prison even though I was supposed to spend a few more years behind bars. He saw something in me and let me work for him. Slowly, I worked my way up, and now I’m one of his most trusted men.
“You’re late,” he says. I want to tell him it’s five fucking minutes, but I don’t feel like arguing tonight.
“Do you have a job, or did you just call me in here so you could bust my balls?” I slam down into one of the seats in front of the mahogany desk.
“I like you, Zane, you don’t walk in here with fright, or like a death sentence awaits on the other side, and you have a sense of humor.”
He smiles or at least attempts to. It looks more like a grimace than anything. Christian is considerably older than me, and I think he lost the ability to smile before I was born. His black and gray hair is slicked back, and his face looks weathered, but that could be simply from doing this shit for years.
I shrug. “It’s not like you’re going to kill me. I’m the one dealing out death. Plus, I doubt if you wanted me dead, you would do it here.”
He grabs his glass and takes a gulp of the liquid before setting the crystal glass back down. He stares at me intently—other men would be intimidated, but not me—and says, “First, I wanted to let you know that things with the Castro family are tense. They’ve been intercepting some of our drugs and undermining some other deals. If things continue the way they are, I might have a few jobs coming up for you. I’ll need you to handle those more silently than normal. No one can know that I’m the one calling the hits.”
“Okay.” That’s a far cry from my normal job because usually Christian likes everybody to know who is responsible for the deaths I deal out. He’s known for being ruthless and killing for petty reasons. Once you’re on his shitlist, your days are numbered. So, I won’t deny that I’m a little curious, but not enough to ask any questions.
“That won’t be a problem. Give me a list, and I’ll get the job done.”
“Besides the Castros, it seems like the Rossi Family is looking for a fight as well.”
“Rossi, as in Xander Rossi?” I say, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. Xander doesn’t look for fights, and most know better than to fuck with him.
Christian frowns and takes a large gulp of his whiskey. He finishes the glass and slams it down onto the desk before grabbing the bottle and pouring himself another. “Yeah, the one and only.”
I shouldn’t ask, not that it matters, but I’m curious… far more curious than I should be. “How did you end up on his radar?”
He shakes his head like he’s trying to banish away a bad dream. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is staying off his radar for now. We can take care of him once I deal with the Castros, but until then, I need to stay on Xander’s good side.”
“Got it. Play nice with the Rossi family… for now.”
He takes another drink. “Perfect. I do have a different job I want you to do right now, and it’s a bit time-sensitive.”
Where the hell are all these stipulations coming from?
“You know any job you need, I can get done. Why’re you dragging your feet, Christian?”
“Your next job is a woman. I’ll have Diego give you the folder with all of the details, but I need her dead within three days, and I want her body brought here. The boys will take care of it.”
That little tidbit of information surprises me because typically, I have my cleanup crew take care of the bodies, but I don’t say shit. Women, men, doesn’t matter to me. All I see is a paycheck when I look at them, not a name, a family or a future. It’s easier that way.
“Zane, have you listened to a fucking word I’ve said?” Christian snaps.
“Of course.” I swirl the amber liquid in my glass. “Are we done here?”
“Yes, but I want you to stick around for a little fun. I got a couple new girls, and every time I offer you one, you decline. You like cock, Z? ’Cause I don’t care what floats your boat. I can get you a pretty boy in here too.”
“Fuck no,” I sneer. “Just because I don’t take up your offer doesn’t mean I don’t like pussy.” I’m pissed that he would even say such a stupid fucking thing.
“What’s the problem then? You don’t like my girls? Or do you have a woman waiting for you at home?” There’s a dark glint in his eyes that makes me want to smash his face into a pile of mush, but I tamp down my rage. I wouldn’t ever consider telling him about Dove, not in a million years, and acting on my anger, however tempting, wouldn’t be worth it.
There’s always someone else to think about before I make my next move.
“Why would I have a woman in my life? They’re only trouble.” I say, staring at him blankly, not giving away a single thing. He thinks simply because I work for him that I’ll kiss his ass and take any job he tosses my way, but what he doesn’t know is I’m the real boss.
He grins. “Good, then you’ll take my offer tonight. I’ve got a girl in one of the VIP rooms willing and waiting for you. Go blow off some steam and consider it a thank you gift for all the work you’re going to be doing soon.”
I consider declining, so I can go check on Dove before returning to my empty apartment, but I don’t want to deal with Christian questioning me anymore. Keeping Dove a secret is essential to keeping her safe. Every single thing I do is for her, well, minus the killing; that’s just to keep my impulses in check.
“Fine, you know where to find me if you need me.” Pushing out of the chair, I leave his office and head in the direction of the VIP rooms.
When I enter the room, it’s bathed in darkness except for a red light that’s placed above a leather couch. On that couch is a naked brunette waiting for me. She smiles and climbs off the couch to walk over to me as soon as I enter the room, but I lift a hand and shake my head.
I don’t plan to let the girl anywhere near me, but no one needs to know that. I’ll give the woman a fat tip, and she’ll keep her mouth shut, and if she doesn’t… well, I’ll get rid of her.
“Here’s how this is going to go. I’m going to give you a couple hundred dollars, and you’re going to tell your boss that we fucked, and it was great. If I find out that you tell him anything else, I’ll slit your throat and watch you bleed out. Do you understand?” Her big eyes grow even bigger, and she takes a step back as if she knows being too close to me is bad.
“I swear, I won’t say anything else.” Her voice is as shaky as her legs.
“Sit on the couch.”
“I… I won’t tell anyone anything… please, please don’t hurt me.” She starts to cry, and I damn near lose it.
Breathing through my nose, I exhale, trying to calm myself. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not unless you don’t follow my directions.”
The girl doesn’t say anything else and wraps her arms around her middle while watching me closely. Soft cries fill the air, but they annoy me more than anything. I’ve seen so many men and women cry, begging, and pleading for their lives that I’m all but immune to it.