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“No!” Sean yelled. “Don’t you fucking touch me, you son of a bitch!”

“Best to not kick a hornet’s nest,” Ze said, then he began slicing off the man’s cock. Blood gushed from the wound all over Ze’s hands. The man screamed and thrashed as much as he could, his body already severely weakened from his blood loss. “Well, this isn’t very impressive,” Ze said, then opened the man’s mouth, shoving his severed cock inside. The man gagged, bile bubbling up from around his own flesh in his mouth. His eyes watered and his body jerked as he choked on it. Ze forced it down, watching as the blood vessels popped in Sean’s eyes the longer he was gagged. Ze stepped back, allowing the man to spit his cock out along with more vomit.

The plastic that lay underneath captured all of the mess, making for easy clean-up when Ze was ready. Ze stabbed Sean again, this time deep in his stomach, and sliced down, letting the man’s bloody viscera spill out. The man’s moans were barely audible as Ze watched the Northside Slasher succumb to a slow, agonizing death. Exactly what he’d given his victims. A sense of warmth caressed Ze, and he was happy. Happy that he’d rid the world of trash and happy he’d hunted a real-life serial killer and won.

Three hours later, Ze was burying Sean’s burned remains in a hole six feet deep in the woods. He burned the plastic coverings he’d worn in a garbage can back at the factory, destroying all evidence. All traces of Sean’s blood had been cleansed away from Ze’s hands and nails. Those were lessons he’d learned from the former Lords’ enforcer, Kevin “Hound Dog” Hunt also known as “HD” for short. Hound Dog was his mentor and father figure, he’d also sponsored him for the club. Thanks to his lessons, Ze knew how to properly dispose of a body and all of the proof.

With one last pat of the shovel on the dirt, Ze walked away and never looked back.

ZAIRE “ZE” ESAI

Three years later.

“Don’t do it,”Ze told his younger brother, Zindel, after he’d revealed what he considered to be a terrible idea. He was older now, twenty-six, and had grown more ruggedly handsome compared to the softer features of his younger brother, who looked pretty, even to his club brothers who swung that way.

“I’m really good at what I do, though. I never get caught,” Zindel said, brushing his long, silky dark curls from his green eyes. His plump lips parted in a coy smile. He was shorter than Ze, standing at five-eight to Ze’s six feet, and his features were soft, angular. “You know I love a challenge. How else am I going to become the world’s greatest thief? By playing in the kiddie pool with floaties on?”

“Just because you never get caught, doesn’t mean you should be reckless,” Ze said, then took a bite of his butter cookie.

“Says the man who literally kills people for a living,” Zindel shot back.

Ze cocked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t get smart. Besides, I’m always careful.”

“I am too,” Zindel said. “Besides, I’m so good, I could steal the sugar from your cookie and you wouldn’t even notice.”

Ze chuckled, and took a look at his cookie, then finished it. “You need to let–”

Zindel held his hand up. “See, I’m going to stop you right there. The only thing Ineedto do is breathe, drink water, sleep, eat, and shit.”

Ze rolled his eyes. “And when your ass gets into trouble, I’m the first person you run to.”

Zindel gave him a sweet smile. “Because you’re my big bro. We always take care of each other.”

“You need to let this mark go, I mean it,” Ze said, giving his brother a stern look.

“What are you two going on about?” Kevin “Hound Dog” Hunt asked as he made his way over to the bar to pour himself a drink of brandy.

Ze scratched his neatly trimmed beard and shifted his position on the bar stool, turning around so he was facing Hound Dog. He rested his elbows on the bar top. “Just trying to talk my kid brother out of doing something really fucking stupid.”

“Oh? What?” Hound Dog asked. He looked at both boys, they were his sons as far as he was concerned. He’d taken them into his home and life ten years ago.

Zindel rolled his green eyes and bit his plump bottom lip. “There’s this guy who comes into the spa all of the time. I can tell he’s loaded.”

Hound Dog harrumphed. “And you want to make him your next mark?”

Zindel smiled wickedly and nodded. “He’s going to be a catch, for sure.”

“Why is that?” Hound Dog asked.

“Because he always has armed bodyguards with him,” Zindel said. “I’ve never swiped anything from someone with bodyguards. I have to step up my game.”

“Probably because he’s mafia,” Ze stated. “Leave it alone.”

“Do I tell you who to kill and who not to kill?” Zindel fussed.

“And normally, I wouldn’t care whose rich asshole’s pockets your little klepto ass picked, but if this dude is as protected as you said, he’s bad news,” Ze stated.

“I agree with your brother, Zindel. Find another person to play with,” Hound Dog said, then looked past Ze to his father and club chapter president, Lenard “Jimmy” Hunt. The president was with a couple and he motioned for Ze and Hound Dog to follow him. “Well, that’s our cue.” He downed the rest of his brandy, then walked around the bar. “Come on, Ze.”