by Hamel, B. B.
Sleeping with the Beast
BB Hamel
Contents
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1. Ren
2. Amber
3. Ren
4. Amber
5. Ren
6. Amber
7. Ren
8. Amber
9. Ren
10. Amber
11. Ren
12. Amber
13. Ren
14. Amber
15. Ren
16. Ren
17. Amber
18. Ren
19. Amber
20. Ren
21. Amber
22. Ren
23. Amber
Also by BB Hamel
Copyright © 2021 by B. B. Hamel
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1
Ren
I stepped into the Leone family’s stupidly fancy foyer with blood still caking my right fist when I first saw her leaning up against the banister like she owned the place.
She looked at me with this lazy expression, like she couldn’t care less about anything around her. She had long, dark hair, hanging down around her shoulders, and wide blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the low light; her clothes were clean, comfortable, fastidious, like she’d spent a lot of time getting dressed; and her arms were crossed over her chest protectively. I let my gaze slide down along her hips, lingered on her shoes—sneakers, I didn’t know why I noticed that, but it felt strange to see sneakers in the middle of that house, with all that money around, and so much expensive crap waiting to be grabbed—then back up to her eyes, holding her return gaze. She arched one eyebrow, and I wanted to say something, but was interrupted by Floyd, that moron.
“You’re getting blood on the tile, man.”
I looked at him for a second, then down at the floor. I was dripping blood from somewhere, and checked myself before realizing I had a cut down my arm, probably from when that guy pulled a knife. I hadn’t even noticed, but it dripped down the sleeve of my jacket in small puddling drops.
I put my other hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. “Someone will clean it up eventually,” I said, glancing at her again.
She had a little smile on her face.
“Come on, man, you can’t just stand there bleeding all over the floor.” Floyd looked like he was about to flip.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know, man. Take the jacket off.”
“That won’t help.”
“Press it against the wound.”
I sighed, stripped off the jacket, wadded it up, and used it as a bandage. My arms were bare and I wore a tight black t-shirt. She let her eyes roam down my chest, and I felt seen—and liked it.
“Where the hell is he?” I grunted, getting impatient. We’d been let in by that butler guy, I forgot his name already, and told to wait in the foyer. We stood there like morons for a few minutes as she drifted down the steps, not saying a word, staring at us. I hadn’t seen her around before, and I figured she was one of the Leone girls, maybe a cousin or some shit.
“He’ll be here, man.” Floyd started pacing. He was a small guy, compact, built like a bullfighter with thick legs and no neck. He was my best muscle, the sort of guy that loved getting into a scrap and didn’t much care if anyone walked away from it alive. Handy in a fight, but sort of dull otherwise.
I went to tell him to quit pacing, he was tracking dirt all over the floor, when Vincent appeared at the end of the far hall. He strode toward us, a little smile on his face, and I plastered a smile on mine. As soon as he stepped into the room, I noticed she turned and strode back upstairs without a word, not glancing back, and I got the feeling that she didn’t love the head of the Leone crime family—didn’t love him one bit.
Not that I could blame her. Vincent was a tough man, prone to emotional outbursts, though smart and shrewd in his own way. Anyone close to him said he was a good guy, and maybe they were right, but all I ever saw was a rich boy trying to play a tough man’s game.
“Ren,” Vincent said, smiling at me, then nodded at the jacket. “What happened?”
“Guy had a knife,” I said, shrugging. “Didn’t notice it until now. Sorry about the floor.”
He waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Are they taken care of?”
“They’re hurt like hell, if that’s what you mean,” Floyd said with a huge grin. “Kicked their ass. Beat them to hell. Took this one guy, smashed his teeth in so bad—”
“I get the idea,” Vincent said. “I assume they look worse than you two.”
“One might be dead,” I said, face straight.
Vincent hesitated. “You sure?”
“Not sure. But Floyd here didn’t go easy.”
“He ain’t dead,” Floyd said, but didn’t sound sure, not even a little bit. He’d hit the guy so many times, the bastard stopped moving, and might’ve stopped breathing. I couldn’t get a good look, since I had my own problem to take care of.
I didn’t get into the scalp game all that often. Muscle guys like Floyd took that work all the time, but I preferred a good steal over a good fight. For my money, nothing beat breaking into a place you didn’t belong and leaving with something that wasn’t yours. I made my living from a young age picking locks, smashing windows, and sneaking around as quietly as I could, lifting only what was necessary, and never getting caught. I was a good thief, but thieving only went so far.
When Vince came calling, I had to answer. The Leone family was the largest mafia in Philadelphia, and I was still an independent guy, working all my jobs alone. I was happiest that way, and didn’t want to get tangled up by the Leones, but their money was good and the job was simple: track down a couple goons and beat the ever-loving shit out of them. I brought Floyd along and offered to split the pay sixty-forty. He thought it was an even split, but shit, that’s on him for not asking.
“Either way. I hope they got the message.” Vincent smiled and clapped me on the shoulder, the one with the knife wound, and I grimaced. He had the good manners to look a little embarrassed before turning to Floyd. “Thanks for the assistance. I’m sure Ren will have your money soon.”
“When I get paid, he gets paid,” I said, nodding.
“Very good.” Vincent squeezed my shoulder. “I actually have another job for you, if you’d be willing to talk?”
I hesitated. I really didn’t want to get too involved. The Leones had their own thing brewing, and it didn’t look pretty. Not the kind of shit I wanted to dive into, not even remotely, but I couldn’t turn him down, not in his own house.
“Sure, I’ll talk,” I said.
“Good.” Vincent nodded to Floyd. “You can see yourself out.”
Floyd gave me a look and I nodded back—he knew where I lived and he knew I wouldn’t stiff him. Floyd turned and left, shutting the big oak door with its fancy carvings with a loud thud.
Vincent cleared his throat. “Come on with me, Ren.”
He led me up that staircase the girl had taken. I thought I could smell her perfume—sweet, almost a little spicy—but that must’ve been my imagination. A small statue stood at the top of the steps, a marble bust of a pretty-looking lady in profile. Vincent took me to the left, down a long
hallway, past door after quiet door, our footsteps muffled by the thick ancient carpet, before he reached the end, turned a knob, and led me into what looked like a study.
A fire crackled in the fireplace and a big black chair sat in front of an oak desk. He lowered himself down with a sigh. A computer screen sat dead and black but he kept himself turned toward me.
I didn’t belong in a room like this. I was a small-time thief and thug. I had my own thing, down south where people knew me, and I got along just fine without getting tangled up with the damn Leone family. But now they had me in their jaws, and I thought I’d be swallowed, or thrown into that fireplace.
Bookshelves lined the walls, and leather-bound books lined the shelves, more books than I’d ever seen in my life.
“It’s like a library in here,” I said, smiling.
He didn’t smile back. “I’ve got a job for you.”
I nodded once. “All right. Let’s hear it.” I wanted to tell him I was done doing jobs, but I could at least hear him out. It was polite, after all.
Vincent looked at his nails and avoided my gaze. “I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s happening with the family right now.”
I hesitated and nodded, still standing. My feet hurt suddenly and I had the urge to sit, but held it off. “There are rumors.”
“Tell me those rumors.”
“Couple groups are out to get you,” I said with a shrug. “Not really my concern. I’m small time. Keep to myself.”
He nodded. “I know that. It’s what I like about you. Did you know that you have a good reputation?”
I snorted and paced away. “Not sure I’d call my reputation good.”
He smiled at that. “Honest, at least. You’re given a job, and you do the job. That’s a surprisingly rare quality in our line of work.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m coming to you.”
I stopped pacing, faced him. “Frankly, I’ve been doing business in this city since I was a teenager, and you family never once looked in my direction.” I wanted to gesture, but my hand was still pressing my jacket down on the knife wound. I wondered if it would need stitches. Definitely antibiotics. I was sure that scumbag didn’t clean his knife. “I’ll admit I’m a little surprised you’re looking to hire me.”
I thought he might be annoyed about that, but he only shrugged. “Haven’t had a reason to hire you, truth be told. You’ve always done your own thing, and I’ve always done mine. Our paths never crossed. I suspect you’ve done that on purpose.”
“You give me too much credit.”
“Either way, our paths are crossed now.”
I nodded. “You’re right about that.”
He looked at me for a few seconds before sighing. He gestured at a chair behind me. “Sit down. You’re hovering.”
I sat, grateful, but didn’t let it show. “What’s the job?”
“It should be easy, for a guy like you.” He leaned toward me, elbows on his knees. “Two upstarts merged against us this past month. There’s an Irish motorcycle gang from the damn suburbs, of all places, and a group from up north that calls itself the Ragers. Together, they say their new gang’s called the Dusters, so fine, that’s their name.”
“Not a great name,” I said, shrugging. “I thought it was a joke when I first heard it.”
He smiled. “Me too, but they’re real, and they’re a pain in my ass.”
“If you’re asking me to fight your war, I’m not interested.”
He shook his head and held up his hands. “Something simpler, actually. There’s a girl that came to live with me, daughter of a capo in the Chicago family. She went through something recently, they’re having their own problems out there, and she was sent here to get away from the heat. Unfortunately, things are getting hot around here now, too.”
I thought of the girl I’d seen with the long dark hair and the intense expression. She must’ve been twenty, maybe a little older. It must’ve been the same girl he was talking about.
“Not sure what she would have to do with me.”
“I need you to be her bodyguard.”
I let that sink in for a second then burst out laughing. He stared at me, eyes hard and cold, and I knew this wasn’t a joke—but it had to be.
I wasn’t a bodyguard. I was a thief, and the occasional thug. I had a reputation for myself, sure enough, but nobody entrusted a life in my hands—much less the life of a young, beautiful girl.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head, laughter dying down. “I don’t think I can take this on.”
“I figured you’d say that, which is why I’m offering to pay you ten grand per week.”
I went still then leaned forward. My jacket came off the knife wound and I barely noticed. “Ten grand per week?”
“That’s right. It’s a lot, I know, but for good reason. She’s important, and I want to be able to trust you.”
“Ten grand per week is a lot of motivation.” I paused, eyes narrowing. “How long do you want me to work?”
“At least a month,” he said.
“Make it fifty thousand per month then.”
He laughed. “You’re negotiating?”
“You want my help, I want you to pay for it.”
Silence stretched between us. I felt the warmth of the fire as a log popped, crackled, and collapsed.
“Okay then,” he said. “Fifty thousand. Do you want to meet her?”
“Yes.” I felt a strange heat rise in my stomach as I stood.
He got to his feet and led me back out of the study. I followed him down the hall, across the stairwell landing, and down the opposite wing. We paused in front of a door midway down and he knocked once, twice, then opened it.
The room was wide and open with a bank of windows opposite. There were chairs and couches surrounding a TV mounted above a fireplace at one end, and what looked like a large dining room table at the other. A small hallway disappeared to what I assumed was a bathroom and a bedroom.
She sat curled up on a chair next to the window with her phone held up to her face. She looked up and a couple expressions flitted across her face—annoyance first, followed by surprise, and finally, curiosity. She looked at me, and I tilted my head, smiling a bit.
“Amber, this is Ren.” Vincent gestured at me. “He’s a good man. One of our best.”
I smiled at that and stepped forward. “Nice to meet you.”
She nodded at me. “You’re bleeding on my carpet.”
I frowned then cursed and shoved the jacket against the wound. Vincent laughed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll have someone clean that up, and I’ll go call Dr. Chen. He’ll fix you up.”
“The famous Dr. Chen.” I laughed, unable to help myself. “I’ve heard that name a thousand times. That man can pull a bullet from a corpse and bring it back to life.”
Vincent smiled. “Not quite, but he’s good. Stay here, get to know each other.” He looked at Amber. “Be nice. He’s going to be around for a while.”
He left without a word, shut the door behind him, and left me alone with the girl.
I turned to her and watched her for a few silent seconds. My first impressions were right: she was young, a decade younger than me, and very pretty. Her full lips were pulled into an annoyed frown and her tilted head suggested she wanted me to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. I wondered what happened in Chicago to make her have to leave, but decided not to ask.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Play this game.” She waved a hand vaguely. “Whatever he wants.”
“I’m not sure you understand how the family works in this city.”
She shrugged. “Probably the same way it works in Chicago, but I also know Vincent’s drowning in whatever’s going on, so you could probably walk away.”
I took a step closer to her and her eyes tracked me, the phone forgotten. “
You want that? Think I should walk away?”
“Maybe.”
“You know that he’ll replace me with someone else. Probably someone much less charming and handsome.”
That should’ve gotten a smile. Instead, she looked even more annoyed. “Arrogant and a thug. My least favorite combination.”
“I’m not a thug,” I said, feeling my anger rise. This girl didn’t know me one goddamn bit.
“Then what are you doing working for Vincent Leone?”
“He pays good.” I shook my head. “I don’t need to justify myself to you. We’re going to be working together, and that’s all.”
“You mean, he hired you to follow me around, right?”
“Bodyguard.”
She laughed. It was bitter, surprisingly bitter for a girl so young. “Yeah, right, bodyguard. Like you’ll be much use. You’ll spy on me for him, keep me out of trouble, and generally get in my way.”
“That’s what you’re used to, huh?”
“Pretty much.” She turned back to her phone.
I walked to her, closing the gap between us. She stared up, surprised, as I looked over her. Up close, she was small, petite really, though full where it counted, and I was willing to bet she’d skated through life without so much as a single man pushing back on her. Hard to push back when she looked so good.
“Understand this,” I said, voice low enough that she had to lean closer to her me. “I don’t work for Vincent or anybody. I’m taking this job because it pays good and I’m hoping it’s easy. You play along and don’t get in my way, then I’ll play along and won’t get in yours. No bullshit, no fucking around. There’s a war out there, and I’m going to keep your ass safe.”
