“Yeah, it’s been a bit. I wanna take her on though.”
“She into that?” he asks with very real curiosity in his voice.
“Nah, I doubt it; that’s not how I like 'em. I enjoy breaking 'em in.” I groan and adjust my dick, which is already getting hard again just from thinking about taking a belt to her lush ass. Fuck, I didn’t even get a chance to truly enjoy her body. I smirk to myself, thinking of how I’m gonna punish her the second I get her alone for leaving like she did.
Johnny says, “I’ve been thinking about trying a thing or two, in the bedroom.” He looks out the window like he’s thinking real fucking hard about it. I snort at him, but before he can respond there’s a hard knock at the door. I run a hand down my face and then through my hair. I can’t wait to get this shit over with so I can go to Ma’s and finally eat something. As Johnny opens the door, my phone goes off on the coffee table. Perfect fucking timing. I don’t want to deal with whatever prick owes me money. I lean down to pick it up, and as I do all hell breaks loose. A fucking bullet whizzes by my head, right where I just was.
Johnny’s scuffling with the fucker who’s screaming for his life at the door. Johnny pushes him down, laying all his weight on top of him, with one hand over his mouth and the other on the silencer attached to the gun. I’m real fucking aware of exactly how the gun is pointed, so I stay out of the line of fire as I jump over the sofa and make my way to the two of them. Johnny’s a pretty big dude. He’s all muscle, broad-chested, and this puny fucker doesn’t stand a chance. He’s putting up one hell of a fight though.
My hand reaches into the waistline of my pants, but my gun isn’t there. Fuck! I don't have my gun. I always fucking have my gun, but I belatedly remember removing it so I wouldn't scare off my doll earlier. I look over to the door and it's on the other side of the room. The worst fucking place possible. I keep low to the ground with my eyes on Johnny and this dumb shit. You gonna take a shot at me, you better fucking make sure it takes me out. Johnny carries reverse. I know right where his piece is. I come up from behind him and let him know it's me.
"Grabbing your piece, Johnny." In one swift move I've got his gun pointed at this fucker's head. He looks up with his eyes wide and finally stills, ending the struggle. "Keep your hand on his mouth and grab the gun."
The guy’s eyes dart from me to Johnny. I can tell he's figuring out that he's going to die right about now. He loosens his grip on the gun and starts shaking his head and screaming something through Johnny's hand. It's not “help,” like I expected it to be. Even if he could scream out for help, no one's coming for him. I've had this suite for years. This wouldn't be the first time some chump thought he'd just kill me instead of paying his debt.
His muffled voice utters a sound that gets my attention. "Johnny, let the fucker talk."
Johnny looks up at me with sweat covering his brow from the struggle. His face is red, and he's still breathing like he's run a mile. I jerk my head to the table by the door and say, "Get mine; I wanna switch."
Johnny rises slowly, grabbing the bastard's gun and walks to the door calmly, straightening out his jacket and tucking his shirt back in. I track him in my peripheral vision, but my focus is on this skinny fuck looking straight into the barrel of the gun I've got pointed right between his eyes.
"Last words?" I ask, closer to pulling the trigger more than I really should. I shouldn't kill him here. Not with Johnny's gun. This fucker brought one with a silencer though. So it's his funeral. And I'll have to fix the flooring. But I bought extra wood the last time I remodeled for this very fucking reason.
"De Luca sent me." He spits the words out with terrified eyes. I smirk at him. Yeah, that’s what I thought he said. I don’t want to kill him with this gun anyway. So he can talk a bit more. Maybe I’ll learn something new.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I ask him, switching guns with Johnny and motioning for him to give me this fucker's gun. How damn sweet is that? He comes to kill me; I unload his gun in his head. Seems fair enough to me. The only thing that’s unfair is that I’ll have to rip out some of the hardwood flooring and replace it.
The scrawny prick is crying his eyes out. The smell of urine hits me, and I look back at him with disgust. Did De Luca really think he’d get rid of me with this little piece of shit? I squat down to see him better and to put the gun closer to his head. I take a good look at his face and then settle for just reaching into his pants for his wallet. I toss it at Johnny without taking my eyes off this chump. This punk is young and scared for his life, but I don’t underestimate anyone. Not now, not ever. You never know when someone might surprise you. And I don’t fucking like surprises.
Not like that nice piece of ass today. She was a welcome surprise. My dick starts getting all fucking excited thinking about being in that hot pussy again. Fuck. Now is not the time to let my mind go there. Although it does make me wanna end this shit sooner, rather than later.
“De Luca’s pissed about the territory, he wants all yous dead.”
“All yous?” I echo, and arch an eyebrow.
“You need to learn to speak properly, Mr...?” I ask him, but not really. I know Johnny’s gonna answer, and he does.
“Marco, Marco Bryant. Twenty-three, and an organ donor.” Johnny’s confident voice rings out from behind me and ends with a snort. Yeah, these organs are getting donated. I see him pocketing Marco's wallet as I nod my head. Bryant. Just like I thought, he’s not full blood. No way De Luca gives a fuck about him.
“So, Marco. You need to get your shit together. You think De Luca was really giving you a chance?” Marco starts trembling beneath me, and widens his eyes. He doesn’t know how to answer. Fuck, I wanna roll my eyes at this prick. But I don’t take chances.
“Don’t answer; I don’t really give a fuck.” I push the barrel of the gun between his eyes and ask, “You got anything else for me?”
“I’ll give you everything!” His eyes are darting between me and Johnny, and his face is sweating like he’s stranded in a desert in July. Or like he’s about to lose his life. I can practically hear his heart pounding in his chest.
“Everything?” I ask with a smirk. He’s got nothing that I want. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. Unless he’s got that chick’s number, there’s nothing I want from him.
“I’ve got a house on the southside and forty grand that’s-” I pull the trigger before he can finish. I miss the bang of the bullet, but it’s better this way. Nice and quiet. I get up quick so I don’t get any blood on my suit.
“Grab the list and see if he was one of the drop-offs. If not, this is gonna be one long fucking day.” I head over to the bar and finally get my gun positioned right where I like it. That’s better.
“Got it, boss. Yeah, he’s one of 'em.” My chest rumbles with a laugh. “Wonder if he has a history of making bets and he got that forty grand by winning?” Johnny laughs as he picks Marco’s head up and starts wrapping it with plastic wrap. Really distorts the fucker's head, but it works well for keeping all the blood from getting everywhere.