by Erin Trejo
BORN TO KILL
Born To Kill
By Erin Trejo
Cover Design: Nicole Blanchard with IndieSage PR
Photographer: Lindee Robinson
All rights reserved
Copyright 2019 @Erin Trejo
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the permission of the author, which is a violation of the International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real except where noted and authorized. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Chapter 1
The beatings have become a normal part of my life. They started when I was three, so I learned not to cry at a very early age. My mother always worried that there was even more wrong with me than what my father did to me. I honestly think that there may have been many head traumas that aided in what I become later in life. Truth is, I know there were.
“You follow orders when they are given!”
Another crack across the face, before a hit to the ribs sends me stumbling back. I quickly right myself and hold my head high, as I feel my eye swelling and lip bleeding. Regardless if there is any air left in my lungs, I have to keep my head held high or risk another beating. Angelo’s eyes are as dark as night. Hatred running through his veins. He has to be this way, it’s the way he was trained. He trains me to be just like him. My role in this family will be to take over when Angelo retires.
“Why didn’t you punish him?” Angelo asks as he stalks around me. My senses are on high alert, which they should be. You can’t let your guard down, not in front of him.
“He didn’t deserve it,” I state calmly. My leg is kicked out from under me, sending me falling to the ground. My knees scream in pain as I clench my jaw shut. My hands slap the cold concrete beneath me when Angelo grabs me by my hair, jerking me back to my feet.
“You are worthless! Shall I tell your father that you aren’t worthy of taking over this role?” he hisses in my ear. The thought alone sends a chill down my spine.
“No, sir. I can handle this job.” Angelo chuckles and moves to stand in front of me. He holds his hand out offering me the whip that has been used so many times before on me. I take the long leather in my hand, feeling the harshness.
“Then punish the boy, Giovanni!”
I try not to jolt when he steps aside and reveals the small boy in front of me. I’ve tried not to look at him the entire time Angelo has taken his rage out on me, but now it’s inevitable. I swallow hard, and take a step toward the boy who cowers in the corner in fear.
“Turn around,” I say in a gruff tone. The boy does as he’s told, turning his bare back to me. I inhale deeply through my nose as I raise the whip. With each flick of the wrist, each snap of the long leather against his skin, he screams. This continues until he has no sounds left to expel. Inside I feel like I’m crumbling, falling apart, but on the outside I’m numb. Void of any emotion that may make me seem weak.
“Was that really that hard?” Angelo asks, taking the now blood-slicked whip from my hand. I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to dish out nor feel anything else. The less feeling I have, the better off I’ll be.
“You are free to go. We will pick up training tomorrow at nine sharp,” Angelo says dismissing me for the night.
I walk out of the basement and climb the stairs from the underground bunker. The cool air hits my bruised and broken skin causing me to cringe. Heading toward the house, I know that my father will be at dinner tonight and I need to make myself presentable. As soon as I step foot inside, Asia spots me. Her long black hair hangs in curls around her shoulders, her dark brown eyes sparkling in the dull light. Asia is the daughter of one of my father’s head soldiers. She’s lived here for years and has gained the right to live in the main house since her father is well respected by mine. To say that the DeLuca family takes care of their own is an understatement.
“Oh my God, Gio,” she cries softly, moving toward me quickly. Her hand comes up to my cheek, cupping my face in her small hand. At fifteen years old my hormones are out of control and having her touch me is sweet torture.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, brushing her hand away from my face. I step around her, jogging up the stairs, but I know she’s right behind me. I can feel her presence like I always have.
“You are not fine!” she sneers but I keep walking. As soon as I step inside my bedroom, I push the door closed but it doesn’t click into place. I blow out a breath and turn to see her standing in the doorway.
“What is it you want, Asia?” I’m short and to the point with her, just like I need to be. That’s the only way there is.
“Let me clean you up,” she says, closing the door and brushing past me, heading into my en-suite bathroom. Huffing out a breath, I follow her and drop onto the toilet seat. Asia moves around as if she’s done this a million times when the thought occurs to me. She probably has. She lives this life as much as I do, and her father comes home bloody and broken at times. Asia’s mom died when she was four and Asia took over the role of being the caregiver. She’s good at it regardless of who it is she’s caring for.
“Look up here,” she says softly before bringing the rag to my face. I wince and hiss in a breath as she cleans me up. I don’t typically let anyone touch me, but Asia is stubborn and it’d do me no good to fight her. Her soft hands move over my skin, cleaning and applying medicine to the cuts on my face.
“There. You really should ice that eye, but I already know you won’t. Will I see you at dinner?” she asks with that perfectly straight smile in place.
“Father will be here, so yes. I have no other choice but to attend,” I remind her. She nods her head and turns on her heel to leave me, but I do something so stupid. I stand quickly and grab her wrist, spinning her to face me. Shock registers across her face. I’ve never touched her like this.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” My cock pulses in my jeans, screaming to be freed. You may be thinking that at fifteen years old that wouldn’t be at the forefront of my mind, but truth be told, I haven’t been a virgin in years. My father set it up when I was eleven. He said that it was time for me to become a man.
Asia looks at my lips before her brown eyes flicker to my blue ones. “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen,” she says softly.
“Too bad they are the
eyes of a bastard.”
“Why would you say that?” she asks tilting her head to the side.
“You never heard about my mother?” She shakes her head and I smile.
“My mother was a whore. She was American and that’s where the blue eyes and blonde hair came from. You never questioned why I looked so different. Why not?” She chews her lip and my insides tumble.
“I’ve learned to never ask, Gio.”
When those words leave her lips, I lean in and kiss her slowly. Her taste explodes on the tip of my tongue and I find myself grinding against her. Her hands come to rest on my chest, shoving me back a step.
“I can’t be involved with someone like you, Gio. I’m sorry.”
Chapter 2
I make myself look as presentable as possible with what my face looks like. As I stand here and stare at my reflection in the mirror, I question nothing. The crystal blue eyes staring back at me are lifeless. They have been for many years. I used to think there was something wrong with me, looking so much like death, but now it’s become natural. As I lose myself in the lifeless pools which should reflect my soul, my first kill comes back to me full force.
“He’s a traitor amongst us, Giovanni!” my father roars loudly.
My pulse races, roaring in my ears, as I stand with the knife in my hand. I look at the shiny blade as the overhead light bounces off it in the old warehouse. My insides clench, wondering what it’s going to feel like. Will I feel remorse? Will I feel anything at all?
“What do we do with traitors?” my father asks, stepping up next to me.
“Kill them,” I say smoothly, not wanting to disappoint him. I have no fear of my father but I know if I don’t follow directions it will end in my death.
“That’s right. Now is your time, Giovanni. Now is when you prove to this family how much of a man you are,” he says. I nod my head and step closer to the man on his knees in front of me.
“Please! I have children!”
Who is he trying to convince when I’m just a child myself? I ignore his pleas and move to stand behind him. My father watches me intently, his eyes holding a small amount of pride as I run that blade along his neck. The man gasps and sputters as I take my first life at thirteen years old. The pride I saw in my father intensifies, a sinister smile slowly spreading over his face. He walks over, taking the knife from my hand and pulling me into the only hug he’s ever given me.
“I’m proud of you, Giovanni. You will do wonders for the DeLuca family.” He’s never hugged or spoken to me that way since.
“Gio!”
I shake my head riding the thoughts of the past when I hear Angelo calling me. Quickly opening the bathroom door, I step into my room to find him waiting.
“Why are you in my room?” I snap.
“Your father is waiting and you know how much he hates to wait,” he tells me honestly.
“I’m on my way, Angelo.”
“You are always late. Your father will frown upon that and I will enjoy teaching you to be on time,” he sneers in my direction.
Everything happens so quickly that I can’t register my reaction. In the matter of seconds I’m across the room with my hands wrapped tightly around Angelo’s neck. His body lifted from the bed and pinned against my bedroom wall. I may only be fifteen, but I’m five foot eleven and two hundred plus pounds of pure muscle.
“One day, Angelo, I will be teaching you a lesson,” I hiss in his ear. Angelo swallows before a smirk crosses his face.
“I see you are learning to embrace the anger inside of you.”
“Is there any other way?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“No.”
I release my grip on him, taking a step back as he watches me. If he’s waiting for an apology, he isn’t going to get one. I’m never sorry for my actions, this incident included. Angelo adjusts his jacket and heads toward the door with me not far behind him.
“I think you will enjoy dinner tonight. Your father has a surprise for you,” the fucker throws over his shoulder, his confidence restored.
Just hearing those words make me unsteady. I don’t like surprises, especially coming from my father. His last surprise to me was sending me away to get my ass beat just to learn some self-restraint. According to what happened in the room moments ago, I’d say I’m a little rusty on that.
We make our way through the house and into the dining room when I see Asia. Sitting in her normal spot, she looks up and smiles as I walk in. I don’t return that smile, only take my seat at the table. Antonio DeLuca sits there stoically, his face impassive as he glances around. My father, the man who hates me and yet somehow finds a use for me. I often wondered if I was only kept alive to take over for Angelo, considering I was never told anything else. In this family, as in all mafia families, it’s typically your birthright to take over as the head of the family, but that isn’t the case for me.
“Angelo has told me that you are doing well in your training, Giovanni.” My father’s words pull my attention to him.
“Yes, Father. I’ve been doing very well,” I say, dragging my gaze to Angelo’s neck and back.
“Good, good. I’ve seen a change in you as well.” My eyes move to meet his quickly. “Don’t think I haven’t been watching you, Giovanni. I have.” A tremor races over me but I won’t let him see that. Him watching me is never a good sign for anyone.
“I never expected any less, Father.”
He likes my response. He nods his head, placing his fork and knife down on his plate before resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands. “Your cousin will be coming to live with us, Giovanni. I am putting you in charge of him.”
I swallow hard and look over at my father, the man who created me. A man who I barely know.
“Why me?” I ask keeping my tone neutral.
“Why not you!” he roars.
“It was only a question, Father. I figured all the training would go through Angelo.” I’m taking a risk talking to him the way I am, but I had to grow up before my time and have felt like an adult for most of my young life.
“Typically, yes, but you are old enough now and have enough knowledge to train him. If it isn’t a task you think you can handle, do tell me now,” he says with a challenge in his tone.
A normal child would cringe away but not me. I have no real emotions left inside of me that aren’t anger and rage, aside from the long buried hatred of my father. To understand my hatred is to know my father, and not many have seen him in the way that I have. Vengeance is something that was instilled in me years ago.
“I can handle it.” Knowing what I’ll have to do to my own cousin doesn’t really faze me. Of course, no one wants to abuse a family member, but what other choice is there?
“When will Stefano be arriving?” I ask before picking up my fork and cutting into my steak. Putting the meat into my mouth, I chew as I wait for his response.
“In a few days. I expect you to start his training right away.”
“And what is his role to be?”
My father clears his throat before I let my gaze move back to his. “I haven’t chosen a position for him just yet. I want to see what he can handle first.”
Nodding my head, my eyes find Asia’s across the table. My father’s gaze has settled on the side of her head and I can see the anxiousness in her. Mario, her father, clears his throat, pulling everyone’s attention to him.
“I have new security being added to the compound in the next few days. I would appreciate it if you could train underground when they are here. It will be less hassle on everyone,” he states.
“That is no problem, is it?” my father responds, looking from me to Angelo. We both shake our heads.
Dinner goes by in a blur of conversation that I try not to pay attention to. Mostly logistics of the guns and drugs we have coming in. I sit quietly like the well trained killer I’ve become over the years. Keeping to myself is easy. There is only one person I’ve ever relied on and that’s
myself. When dinner is over and we’re excused, I head out into the backyard, sitting in the patio chair and looking up at the stars. I can smell her before I ever see her coming.
“Why did you kiss me?” Asia asks in a hushed tone, no doubt trying to keep from anyone hearing.
“Why do I do anything I do, Asia?” I ask when she walks around to stand in front of me. Her long white dress blows in the subtle breeze, catching my attention.
“I mean it, Gio. Why would you do that?” Shoving out of the comfort of my chair I move quickly to stand in front of her. Her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, only making her even more gorgeous.
“I can do whatever I want, Asia.”
“Not with me you can’t. We’re friends, Gio,” she nearly pleads with me.
Stepping closer to her, she looks up at me with those chocolate brown eyes. Reaching for her cheek, I cup it in my hand before leaning in and kissing her again. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, kissing her virgin lips. I know she hasn’t kissed anyone because I know Asia. Deep down, not just in the literal term. I grind myself against her before she pulls away from me, slapping me across the face. I can’t do anything but grin at her.
Chapter 3
Asia has avoided me like the fucking plague. I can’t say that I blame her. I would avoid me too.
“I can’t take anymore!” Stefano cries as I slam my fist into his ribs. Hit after hit, he crumbles to his knees in front of me. I reach for his dark head of hair and pull him up until he’s standing in front of me again. Strands twist between my fingers as I slam my fist into his face. Blood explodes from his nose, gushing down his face.
“You have to take it!” I roar before shoving him back a step. His back collides with the brick wall, his eyes swelling before my own eyes. Being violent is in my blood. The more I train Stefano, the more I love it. I now know what Angelo loved about doing it to me for years. The calmness that floats through your body, the silence of all the noise in my head - it’s pure fucking heaven.
