I am both loved and feared. He knows it, he sees it, he hates it. His wife though, she loves it.
I am watching from afar as he panics and clutches for his reign to hold onto his little wifey.
I’m going to make them all pay for the deaths of my brother and father. Even the slow soul-shattering death of my mother. She pines for her family - her husband - and it kills me to see the empty that’s inside her eyes.
I watch my cousin and I see him whispering in the ears of men who don’t work within House of Ragen.
He pulled me up knowing straight away who I was and what I was doing. You see, some people pay attention, and some are just blinded by power and greed. My cousin is the latter.
He’s shown me what a quick kill does for your bloodlust; it only feeds it. The difference that he taught me is you don’t just want to feed it; you want to quench it, and I planned on it.
I want to bring down their whole empire.
He has hired me to do so and if my cousin Ian becomes collateral damage then so be it.
He wants me to take them out.
I want to watch their families suffer at my hands, just like my family did.
And to do that, I needed to be smarter.
I’ve spent years prepping.
Years following each of these men at a distance.
I’m so close to the endgame.
Retribution.
This is where angels fly, and demons fall.
Chapter Three
The night I saw her I was drunk on bloodlust.
Awoken from a nightmare.
~ Micha Ragen
Grabbing my smokes and my jacket I leave my apartment and walk down the street through the park to the east side of town. Past the old man’s flower shop. I always like to at least walk or drive past to make sure it’s all good. Lights off and he’s home with Nan. Tonight, though, the light upstairs is on.
Opening my phone, I call him.
- “You ok?” I say as he picks up.
- “Yes, grandson, why wouldn’t I be?”
- “The lights on.”
- “Ahh, yes. Just fixing another one of Ian’s mistakes. Carelessness will get us all killed,” he says to me as my knuckles turn white as I clench them. My jaw ticks.
- “What has he done?” I bark into the phone as I walk across the street about to open the door to the shop.
- “Micha, stay there. I have this covered.”
- Shaking my head, I reply, “Grandfather….”
- He cuts me off and says, “Micha, it’s ok.”
Looking up, I see him walk over to the window. His eyes meet mine and a small smile washes over his old, tired face. I nod to him. I know to not push, and I do have shit to do.
- “You win this time, old man, but…
Again, he cuts me off with his broken English. When he’s tired it’s worse.
“I know, my boy. I know you will kill him. Be patient, he may just be getting himself killed.”
Laughing, my grandfather winks at me nodding up to him.
- “Slàn garmhac.”
- “Slan Seanbhuachaill.”
- “Go leor leis an seanfhear.”
I laugh out hanging up the phone. That man; I owe my life to him and Ian is playing a dangerous game. He’s fucking up, causing problems and using our name and our grandfather for personal gain. If he’s not careful his skull will meet a bullet from my Ruger. Our grandfather has given us everything and to dishonor him with such blatant disrespect calls for far worse than my bullet. It calls for torture. He’s lucky grandfather stops me, pulls me back in, otherwise, he would have been dead a long time ago.
“In time grasshopper.” He always says smiling as the night’s air crosses over my heated skin; the memory alone makes me smile at the content in which he speaks.
Stopping across the street, leaning against the streetlamp, I watch her from the shadows.
Her long red hair is distracting. The strands are a blend of fire and rubies. Shit, it looks like it’s been spewed from the deepest volcano. Her body is delectable; wearing skintight black jeans, dirty white sneakers, a white tee tied in a knot with the cute coffee shop apron around her waist.
She’s a tiny little thing, but despite being small, she has curves in all the right places. Petite with soft features and a killer smile. She’s the epitome of a sweet, catholic, good girl brought up right—everything I’m not. She’s nowhere near my type. She’s clean, beautiful, untainted and unstained from the hell that is the streets and hard living. I like them fucked up and blank but my cock that’s straining against the seam of my jeans, apparently, he likes her a whole hell of a lot more than he’s supposed to.
She’s a creature of routine.
Even in the small amount of time I’ve been watching, I know that. She hasn’t deviated from her routine, not once since I’ve been watching. She gets up at 6am. Runs around the lake by my house. Followed by two big dudes who drive in a vehicle. Lazy bastards. She works at the coffee shop past my grandfather’s flower shop. I know this because during one of my nightly checks I saw her, my mind registered it was her and well here we are. She’s a mystery. A beautiful enigma. And she’s a creature of routine, she never changes. She lives on an OCD schedule. Always with the same men following her.
She’s quiet and kind and beautiful. She’s a blue baller, she gives any man within ten miles blue balls. I witness it daily.
I know this because my hands are on my rock-hard balls right now as I watch the beauty laugh and joke with customers. Her red hair on fire around her like a flaming halo.
Two men inside the store, their eyes are locked on her. I watch them, one pawing his cock under the table and all I want to do is walk in there put my gun to his cock and blow it off. The other guy is drooling into his cup.
Her whatever they are, don’t even notice the men inside practically eye-fucking her before them. It makes my blood boil and my skin crawl.
Stepping closer toward the small coffee shop, I want to put an end to the show as she walks past the frosted glass window, my eyes meet hers as she looks out into the night. She stops. Frozen, her hand holding an empty coffee cup
I wink at her, and she smiles at me. I can see and feel the nerves rippling over her body through the glass. Her eyes dart to the bodyguards then back to me. I see fear in them.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as she moves from the window. I step toward the door, and she comes back into my view as my hand pushes on the glass. My phone is still vibrating as her eyes scream fear. She shakes her head at me and my jaw clenches. Cocking my head to the side I see the two guards stepping from the stools in the corner. Oh, fuck! Now you’re going to move. Fucking phone won’t stop vibrating. Pulling it fast from my pocket with anger radiating from me, my hand is still on the glass and hers hastily moves over it. As she walks off toward the back of the small coffee shop, I can’t see her anymore as I answer the fucking call.
“What.”
“Busy, are you?”
“Yes, No, Not really.”
“Good. I have a job for you.”