by Faye Byrd
Her eyes flit from me to Carlos before her cheeks darken to match the shade of her hair. “I … I’m not sure—“
“I’ll expect it boxed and ready to go on Sunday morning.” I wave my hand for Carter to precede me and follow him to the elevator without another word.
By the time we arrive at the room, the bellhop is already leaving our bags. “Thank you,” I say, holding out a twenty.
Once we’re alone, Carlos says, “What the hell was that all about?”
I shrug. “She annoyed me, so I thought I’d make her mistake even more obvious.”
Carlos barks a laugh. “Annoyed you? How?”
I sigh as I loosen my tie. “Checking me out and shit.” I toss the tie on the end table and wave him off. “Can you imagine all the lone male travelers she picks up working at a place like this? Makes me cringe thinking about it.”
“I’ve never seen you cringe over a chick checking you out before. Even as Antonio. There’s gotta be more to it than that,” he says, studying me, but a knock on the door allows me to avoid his too-fucking-inquisitive observation.
I tilt my head. “Get that, will ya? I’m going to change for the club.”
Chuckling to myself, I make my way to the bedroom and change from my suit, donning a pair of True Religion jeans, a Henley, and some loafers. I’m ready to head out after a quick piss and an eye-roll at the mirror. Before I even make it back to the main room, the three men are chuckling loudly.
As soon as I appear, they quiet immediately. I snort, ignoring Carlos and Lorenzo, looking straight to Riley. “What’s so fucking funny?”
His ears turn red, and he fake coughs to think of something to say. My glare spears Lorenzo and Carlos before I step closer to Riley. “What was that? I think my ears aren’t working since I didn’t hear a reply.”
“No, Boss. Sorry.” Another fucking cough. “We were just talking about that hot little redhead who checked ya in.”
My eyes narrow on Carlos, but for the sake of my sanity—and his goddamn life—I let it go. “If you’re into the fuck-every-man-who-stays-at-the-hotel type, then sure, she was all right.”
A look passes between Lorenzo and Carlos, but I let it slide. Lorenzo knows the deal, and if I’m being fucking honest, Carlos will too if I have my way because Piper will be with me. Around me. A part of my life.
I shake my head to clear it of long-term possibilities I’m not sure will ever become a reality and settle with what I do know. And that’s that she belongs with me. She’s mine. We just need to work through my fuck-up like the two responsible adults we are.
“Let’s ride,” I say to Carlos before looking to Lorenzo. “Riley can get away with hanging at the club, but I don’t think it’s the best idea for you to join us. Why don’t you circle with the car?”
Lorenzo palms his chest, being fake-offended. “What, you think older guys like me aren’t the type? I’ll have you know—“
“Save it, Lori,” I say with a lifted brow. “I don’t expect any trouble. We’re just two out-of-towners going out for a little fun. Riley can wait ten and enter alone. We’ll be fine.”
“We are in Miami,” Lorenzo reminds me, like I’m some little fucking kid.
“And no one knows we’re here.” I don’t wait for anyone else to comment. I stalk toward the door and swing it open, looking back to the fuckers still standing there like idiots. “Well?”
“I don’t like this,” Lorenzo mumbles as he passes me.
“Good thing I’m the Boss, then.”
The rest of the night goes just as I fucking expect. Carter and Antonio make appearances at different clubs over the next few hours, pretending to drink more than we really are and hitting the dance floor—blending in as a couple who are checking out the scene in Miami.
By the time we’re back at the hotel, I’m ready to get some fucking shut-eye because the sooner it’s tomorrow, the sooner I can let loose the antsy motherfucker who’s pacing his cage. After a shower and a good laugh at Carlos’ ass on the floor, I turn off the lamp and slide between the stiff cotton sheets.
My eyes pop open before daylight, and I’m already showered and in character before room service is delivered. It’s the same con as Mexico. Carter’s bare leg is on display, and there’s only a towel around my waist, asking for breakfast to be set up in the bedroom. After a generous tip, I send the help away and kick Carlos’ leg … hard.
“Get up, motherfucker. We got shit to discuss.”
Since so many of the plans were made during the few days I refused to speak with Ivan, I’m a little out of the loop on final arrangements, but I know whatever they have planned is good to go. As long as it gets me some private time with the old fucker, I’m happy to follow along.
I throw on my suit and roll the breakfast cart into the main room of our suite so Carlos can get up and dressed while I eat. In less than ten minutes, he’s sauntering into the room and flopping into the closest chair.
“Smells good,” he remarks, removing the dome from his plate of eggs benedict. “Fancy.”
“Whatever,” I say with an eye roll as I toss aside the paper I’m reading. “So fill me in on the plan. The part before I come into the picture.”
He takes a bite of his fucking toast so I can see every chew of the doughy bread as he talks. “Since we’re here for your “workshop,” Ivan thought it better that you actually be at the hotel. Me, Lorenzo, and Riley will get the old fart, and once we have him nice and tucked away, I’ll send a text asking you to meet me for a late lunch. That’s when you come to the pre-determined location.”
“And who selected this location?” I ask, knowing it needs to hide my deeds well. I can’t take a chance of getting pegged, especially in Miami.
“Lorenzo,” he says, licking the fucking hollandaise from his fingers.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
I slap at his hands. “Fuck, man, you’re disgusting. Finish that shit off and get the fuck gone. I guess I’ll make myself visible downstairs this morning since I’m supposed to be attending this workshop.”
He shovels the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and stands, wiping off the sauce on the back of his hand. “Will do, Boss. It should take us three to four hours to get him settled into his new digs.”
I jab a finger at his disgusting ass. “Nobody fucking touches him, got me? He’s all mine.”
He holds up his hands and takes two steps back. “Got it. I’m not sure I understand why we’re goin’ after an old has-been anyway.”
The monster rebels at his offhanded remark, and his throat is in my hand before I realize what I’ve done. “Did I fucking tell you to question my motives?”
His cheeks are burning red, and his eyes are watering, but all he can do is attempt to shake his head. The monster is nipping and snarling, but I breathe deeply through my nose as I rein him in.
Tossing Carlos back a foot, I wipe non-existent lint from my jacket sleeve and say, “Never question me again. Especially when you don’t have a fucking clue.”
He nods, too embarrassed to say more, and pulls the rental keys from his pocket, holding them out to me. “You’ll need these. I’m gonna take an Uber to the shopping district where Lorenzo and Riley will pick me up.”
“Isn’t that like leaving a roadmap to Antonio and Carter’s movements, though?” I ask, taking the keys from his hand.
He smirks, but it’s missing the usual cockiness. “It would if Ivan hadn’t taken care of it. I’ve already plugged in the gadget he sent. It has its own whatever it is.”
I grab them and slip them into my pocket. “Sounds good.”
Two raps on the door keep us from having to interact further—thank fuck—and I simply walk over and toss all the breakfast dishes onto the tray, just to have something to do. Lorenzo and Riley don’t even enter, as I imagine Carlos gave them the cue not to fuck with me this morning.
I stretch my neck muscles as I take a deep breath and release it. I haven’t been this on edge in a while. The monster is
clamoring for blood, and he’ll take it from just about anybody. I’m not quite sure I’m fit for public company, as anything could cause me to snap.
Grabbing the cart, I roll it behind me as I head for the door. I leave it in the hallway and make my way to the elevator, preparing myself to interact with people with every step. Just as the doors are closing, a hand slips into the slit, causing them to automatically reopen. My fists clench, but I force them to open and place a smile on my face as the intruder invades my space.
“Morning,” the man says with a head tilt as he turns and sees I’ve already pressed the same floor he’s traveling to. “Same destination.” He shrugs and slips his hands into his pockets, which puts me on alert even though it’s a casual move.
I don’t give him a vocal response, just a head tilt to acknowledge I’ve heard him. I’m tense for the ride down to the lobby, but the stranger doesn’t make a move, and I stalk past him as soon as the doors open.
For the next three hours, I browse the gift shops and then make my way to the workshop room. Leaving a sign that says Workshop In Progress on the door, I close myself off in the large, empty room, awaiting the text from Carter. Mostly, I pace to work off some of the tension that’s coiled tight in every muscle I possess. The anticipation is so overwhelming it’s causing my adrenaline to spike and my limbs to feel jittery.
When my phone finally chimes, I’m out of my seat and tearing from the building. The car ride feels like forever, and it fucking should. We need to be as far away from Miami proper as possible. I know my reach when it comes to Chicago, not that I expect the Kents to be anywhere near as good, but I have to think smartly when it comes to killing in their city. Even more so with a relative, no matter how distant and disposable he may be.
Almost two hours later, I pull up in front of a rundown cabin somewhere in the Everglades. The jitteriness from earlier has turned into full-on shaking as I switch off the ignition. Instead of making an attempt to center myself, the monster propels me from the car, a calculating motherfucker on a mission.
When I open the door, one hinge comes loose from the force behind my snatch. I pause, my eyes scanning the room. Riley is standing at the lone window, his machine gun visible as he keeps sentry. Carlos is off in the corner, his arms crossed, not saying a word. I don’t see Lorenzo, but I can hear him moving around in a room beyond this one. Once my men are accounted for, I glare at the one tied to a sturdy wooden chair in the center of the room. He starts struggling as his single eye widens to the size of a tennis ball.
I let out a dark chuckle as I stalk toward him, slipping a brass knuckle from my pocket and fitting it into place. Panicked mumbles are escaping behind one-eye’s gag. I pull a knife from my suit jacket before I take it off and toss it to the floor. It’ll be burned anyway.
As I reach forward, the man freezes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” I slip the knife between his skin and the gag and yank. “This time.”
“W-what do you want?” he asks, but he looks away. He knows. He knows exactly who the fuck I am.
The monster rages at his flippant question and responds with force. Drawing my fist back, I bring it down and connect the brass knuckle with the top of his arthritic kneecap. He howls, but I don’t stop there. I deliver a matching blow to his other knee, and I finish him off with a less than full force cut across the browbone above his scar. This old man is feeble and will probably die before I’m done with him, so I pull back just enough to keep from knocking him senseless.
His head hangs, lolling back and forth before he rights it and tries to look at me again. I help him by grasping his pointy chin in my free hand. “Do you remember me now?” I ask, my voice devoid of emotion. No rage, only pure calculation.
“Fuck you!” he screams. “I know who you are, and you can go to hell!”
I smirk and hold out my hand to Carlos, who has yet to move. “Hairspray.”
He digs into the bag at his feet and comes out with a large aerosol can, tossing it to me. I look back to the defiant old man. “Are you sure? Is keeping your secrets worth your life?”
He spits, and luckily for him, I’m able to dodge the disgusting glob of slime. I shrug and aim the can toward his scraggly gray hair, pressing so the fine mist covers him. After a good minute of constant spray, a lighter sails through the air and I catch it with my free hand, sparking the flame. The old fucker is screaming before the flames reach him, but the monster couldn’t give a fuck less. He’s taking a goddamn shower in those screams.
Lorenzo walks in with a tray and sets it on a table that’s perched nearby. “Oh, Dante,” he says on a sigh. “That singed smell is going to ruin our lunch.”
I chuckle and let off the aerosol spray tip, watching the trail of flames die, but the smoke is still rising from the melted glob on his head. “Would you like to start over?” I ask casually, leaning forward to catch his eye. “Or shall we continue?”
He slumps in his seat, and I nod to Carlos, who gets up and tosses a bucket of water in the old fucker’s direction. Though it doesn’t kill all the smoke, I think enough lands on his head to stop the constant burn. With no reply to my question, I move to the next step.
With a flick of my fingers, a cattle prod is tossed in my direction. I catch it and study the long object with two metal prongs sticking out of the end. When I press the button, a charge of electricity arcs between the tips. The man snaps his eye up, and when he sees what I have, he starts rapidly shaking his head.
But he’s too late.
At least one electrical shock is in order. I stick the prongs to the side of his neck, making sure the spot is a wet one, and cackle as I hit the button. His form vibrates as if he’s having a seizure, and all I feel is giddiness.
Once I pull the prod back, I toss it to the floor and look to Lorenzo. “Did you say something about lunch?”
Lorenzo waves his hand over the spread he’s laid out. “A feast fit for a bloodthirsty killer,” he says loudly, playing mind games with our victim. I know Lorenzo, and he’s probably prouder of me right now than he’s been in a while. He was one of the guards who failed to catch this guy twenty some odd years ago, so this is a long time coming in his eyes.
As we eat a surprisingly decent meal, I let the man stew over his next words because if they aren’t the right ones, his fate is sealed. Well, it’s already fucking sealed, but the length it takes for him to die can either be minutes or goddamn days. I’m in no fucking hurry.
When I stand before the man again, he drags his one eye up to face me. “They know you’re here,” he says, breathing heavily. “My death will cause a war.”
I lean down and study his wrinkled face closer. I can’t tell if he’s being honest or saying it in spite, due to the trauma I’ve already inflicted, but it doesn’t fucking matter. “There may be a war, but your death will only be the excuse. If they cared about you, they wouldn’t have left you unprotected. A hitman tossed away as soon as he was no longer useful.”
“You did this!” he screams, breaking into a coughing fit. Once it’s over, he spits blood and tries again. “Everyone knew I was a dead man just counting his days when I returned from that trip. I’d not only failed the job, but I had an identifiable scar.”
“Tell me about the trip,” I demand, my voice projecting just how serious I am. “I’ll give you a quick death if you tell me why you were there. Was it to kidnap the girl?”
He’s the one who cackles now, a crazy squealy whine wheezing through his blood-stained lips. “I could’ve taken her easily, several times, and looking back, maybe I should have. She might’ve proved useful.” His lone eye lifts and spears me with a look I’m not sure how to decipher before continuing with another cough. “The target was your brother.”
The calm from earlier dissipates like fog on a sunny morning, and a fire consumes me. I kick his chair with so much force one of the legs breaks away when it lands and some of the rope falls loose. Then I’m on him, my fists pummeling as he tries in vain to cover his
head. The brass knuckles are cracking bone as they come into contact with any part of him.
“Who sent you?” I scream, snatching up his limp form so I can see his face. “Why were you after my brother?” I shake him, trying to force his lips to move, but it’s all in vain. He’s lifeless in my hands. I drop him and stand, my hands going to my hair as I look to Lorenzo. “Check him over! Revive him if you can.”
When he doesn’t move, I roar, “Now!”
Lorenzo moves to the bloodied fucking heap on the floor and after a minute, lifts his eyes to mine. With a simple headshake, I know it’s over. I fucking lost it and killed the person with the answers I seek. Anger surges through me, and I swipe everything from the table where we dined earlier before flipping it over and stomping it to pieces. When Riley tries to calm me, he finds his ass on the floor with a Glock pointed between his eyes.
Heavy breaths escape my mouth as I debate whether or not I want to end him. I feel cheated by the old man’s age and condition, and so fucking angry that I’ll never know why. I expected it to be about Piper, which was bad enough, but my brother? I lost all sense of reason, and now I’ll never know.
My arm drops with a sigh. “Get out of my fucking face.”
Lorenzo comes over very carefully. “Dante, I need you to remove your button-up and wash the blood off your skin.”
I look at him blankly and do as he says. Moving as if I’m a robot, I rid myself of any blood-soaked items and go through the little door to the left down the hall. As I stare at my wild-eyed self in the mirror, I still have a taste for blood. Cleaning up as much as I can, I make my way back out to the main room.
Neither the body nor Riley are present, but I don’t ask. Carlos speaks instead. “Ready, Antonio?” he asks, reminding me who I am before we walk out the door.
With a nod, I follow him, trusting Lorenzo to handle the situation here and for him to come for these clothes as soon as he’s back at the hotel. The ride is quiet. Even Carlos knows better than to try to talk to me right now.
