I rest my forearms against the table before she can walk away, her eyes on mine and mine on hers. I lean closer into her personal space looking up at her.
“I-is there anything else you would l-like?”
Again, that sexy as fuck stutter that has my cock in full jerk mode as she tries to speak each word.
“No, doll face. That should be all, for now at least.” I wink at her as she steps back from me, before turning and heading to the glass display case. Taking out the croissant and placing it on a plate she then turns to the coffee machine. She begins to make my coffee as I roll a cigarette around in my fingers, tapping it on the table then rolling it around again. Repeating this over and over while my mind wanders to all the things my erect cock wants to do to her.
For some reason as I watch her, my mind travels to the image of her tiny body fitting into my arms. She looks like she would be around 5 foot 8, the perfect height to have her thighs wrapped around my waist as I slide into her slick, warm pussy.
It’d be so easy to fuck her.
To take her and ruin her sweet cunt with my thick cock.
I bet she’d bend to my will perfectly.
She has dark inside her. I see it and I want to be the one who pulls it out from depths within. To have her nails dig into the flesh of my back as I drive into her.
Running my tongue over my lip, then placing the cig to my lips needing a smoke just because of the assault inside my mind alone, she walks over placing down my ordered items.
“T-there i-is n-no s-s-smoking in h-here.” Fuck me, that stutter. I want it wrapped around my cock.
Looking up at her as I take the smoke from my lips. “Wasn’t going to smoke it, babe. Just breathing the smell in is all.”
My accent is sharper than I had intended it to be. I try hard to hide the Irish in me until I wipe out Damon. That is when it will be the uprising of the house of Walsh and the world will bow at my feet.
“R-right. O-o-o-ok then,” she says, turning a whole new shade of red. Shit, she is hitting the 3rd shade of red tonight. Imagine what I could do given the chance. It’s surprising how much more you see in the light than what I had seen from her in the dark. And that night in the rain, she didn’t have the goon-squad breathing down her neck like she does here.
“Y-you’re Irish?” she asks me.
Nodding as I take a sip of my coffee, a groan leaves my body. It’s that fucking good. No wonder she likes it.
I raise a single brow at her as I drink. Her arms cross over her chest pushing her ample breasts up. My eyes dart down to said chest, appraising the swell and curve of her tits. I can already picture what the little buds would look like. A soft rosy pink, just like the color that her cheeks are while fading from the deep red of before. She is settling into my presence and I like it.
I dig a hundred-dollar bill out of my pocket sliding it across the table toward her.
“Take your break with me?” I ask her and this time she raises her brow at me.
“Because we are both Irish?” she asks me, picking up the bill, folding it in half and placing it inside her notebook.
“No. Because I wanna spend time with you.”
Her cheeks heat instantly and just like that there is the fourth shade of red for the evening. Her eyes fall to goon one as he leans closer off his stool about to step down and this way. I have felt his eyes on me the whole time.
“Not tonight, Irish boy. Not tonight.” With that, she flicks her wild red braid over her shoulder and walks away from me out the back. I sit in silence as I finish my coffee and croissant, she doesn’t appear again, so I pick up my smoke lighting it inside the shop before walking out the door to my car hidden in the shadows.
This job may just be the test to all of my skills, for my body feels crazy shit while she’s around. Jimmy’s right, I should just kill them all, but Layla, oh the beautiful Layla has gotten under my cemented skin causing my body to feel all kinds of random shit.
Driving towards the Warehouse, I see him walking from church slowly when he stops to speak with the priest pulling him in with a handshake. He’s laughing like he’s a saint tainting the holy house of god.
My knuckles roll over the steering wheel burning in pain as I grip it tight.
Pulling back out onto the street I carry on with the job I have been set out to complete for a new contract the old boy secured from a new organization in the area. My name comes with power, my mind and body hold credentials my grandfather doesn’t mind exploiting much to my mother’s disgrace. I have a 0-79 body count. A 100% job success rate and I have made thousands fighting in the underground for the organization’s fight nights.
***
I pull up inside an empty garage. Popping the trunk of the Camaro, I grab the black duffel and lift the board inside the trunk, revealing a secret compartment. I sift through the firearms, taking out the extended mags, a Glock, my silenced Ruger handgun and a sub-machinegun. With my weapons holstered, I slip out of the garage and stick to the shadows. Walking across the road I stay out of sight.
On the outside, the building looks like an old school. Venice Beach Automotive Shop is just a dilapidated building. It’s an old school building like that doesn’t raise any questions or suspicions. But men like me, we know better. I know just what goes on inside its walls and just how sick and fucked the men are that run the trafficking ring. I turn the corner and sure enough there they are, crowded in front of the beat-up townhouse that sits next door. Men are playing dice on the road, with beer spilling from their cans as they laugh and joke around.
Taking out my phone I snap a few pictures for Jimmy, sending them to his email. He’s with Lucas, the guy who ordered this hit. Family wanting to kill family I can sympathize with him on that; I want to run Ian from this world the dick bag that he is.
Lowering myself to my haunches, I slip a cigarette into my mouth. Lighting the tip, I watch and smoke while awaiting confirmation.
GO
That’s all I was waiting for.
Stubbing out my smoke I close in on them and the house. I pause when I see the young girl being passed around between the men. They’re drunk and probably high on everything this side of the border.
Well, this fucks up my plans. Really fucks them up. Why did the muppets choose tonight to torment this young girl? The one night I’m there to make them bleed.
Killing a woman doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It does, however, complicate things. Sure, I can do it. I don’t really have an issue. A kill is a kill and really when you look at it, and where she is, there is a high chance she wants to be dead. She’s young. Too fucking young and it’s obvious she doesn’t want to be there. Oh, fuck. I sigh and rake a hand through my hair, making the hood of my hoodie fall from my head. I’m just about to say to hell with it and leave when I hear gravel crunching behind me. My body stills as my pulse quickens holding my breath. I take one step forward like I am walking away, I pivot on the soles of my boots and strike out at whoever is behind me. They dodge the blow. I curse out and his fist comes fast toward my face. I duck and jab at him. Once, twice. He stumbles back and my third punch lands in a harsh, violent blow to his temple. He catches me with a hit to the eye as he falls forward. My fist is balled as I pull my knee up fast checking his chin on his way down. Before he can fall, I snake my arms around his neck falling back towards the gravel while wrapping my legs around his waist. Holding him in place, my arms lock around his head and neck and all my strength goes into squeezing until I hear the distinct pop of a gun. Letting go of him, his body is slack, so I roll it from mine. I stand and look toward the shop. I see that I have been discovered. Shots ring out toward me with men yelling. Fuck me. This isn’t how it was meant to go. It’s messy and loud. I rip my Ruger from my holster, firing off shots into the one advancing on me, hitting him in the shoulder then the head. The next person comes at me fast from the side of the building as I gain on them walking right into their line of fire.