Page 2 of Broken

Liam

The feeling of a gun pressed against your flesh was unmistakable. It was a cold and biting feeling that snaked its way along your skin. Steel and ice. Or at least that was what I thought as I currently had one tucked along my back concealed within the all dark ensemble that I wore.

Currently, I was casing a store.

But not to rob it.

I was hidden in the shadows across the street from the convenience store. Customers were going in and out. I’d watched some mill around on the corner, scratching lottery tickets and littering the ground with grunts of disgust at not winning.

I checked the watch on my arm. The store would be closing in exactly ten minutes and customers had slowed down till there were none remaining. Pulling the hat down even lower and popping the hoodie on, I checked both ways before crossing the street.

The bell above the door alerted the owner of the convenience store who hadn’t even looked up to see who had entered. I knew that he was the owner because of the research I had done on him as my target.

“Hey buddy, I’m about to close,” the clerk said.

I said nothing, turning and locking the door behind me in quick fashion, keeping my head low. As I flipped the CLOSED sign over a smirk appeared on my hidden features. “You’re open for me.”

Turning around, I saw that the owner had looked up from whatever business they had been attending to. Fear had taken root within their features as they stammered to figure out exactly why I was here. I went to the side area where the lights were and flipped them off.

This man, the store owner had witnessed Bratva business a few months ago. Thanks to a little bird in the Cook County District Attorney’s office, I had found out his name and address. It had been fortunate for me, of course, but unfortunate for this poor soul.

I could hear him breathing in the dark.

“Please,” came his voice and it sounded strangled. “I have a wife and two kids…please, please don’t do this.”

Fear had gripped him and was enveloping his very soul. He was praying to whatever God he believed in, and I truly hoped that it brought him all the comfort he needed. Commanding him to get down on his knees, he continued to beg for his life.

“You have a life insurance policy,” I spoke, my voice dark and inky just like the night.

The poor bastard probably hadn’t heard a word I was saying as he cried out to God. I continued anyway.

“You had a choice,” I told him. “You could have told the police that you had witnessed nothing but instead you told them everything. Just know that due to your untimely demise…your family will benefit.”

My hand was steady as I took care of the man. I left the front door locked and exited out the back of the store. I knew that even as head of the Bratva, I could have had someone else take care of this, but I had chosen to go through with this mission on my own.

I was scared of becoming rusty.

If you were always giving an order instead of carrying one out, it could make you weak. I would not ask a man in the organization to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself. I was still the new kid on the block, a year into taking over for my father, who had passed away from cancer.

Walking the blocks back to the Chicago high rise I owned, I kept right on going. I hadn’t driven because a car being spotted was something that could be traced. No, instead I kept on going until I reached a seedy motel that accepted cash.

Once I was in the room, I checked my face and noticed a tiny bit of blood had splattered from the store clerk. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I opened the paper bag of fresh clean clothes I had hidden around the corner from the store, along with bleach.

Showering first, I poured a small amount of bleach onto the cloth and used soap to lather up with. Scrubbing my body from inch by inch, until the sting of chlorine filtered into my nose. The point of the shower was to wash away any trace evidence. I did not need some smart CSI agent tracing anything back to me.

As soon as my shower was done, I tossed the all black ensemble into the tub and bleached every inch. The fabric slowly before my eyes went from black to a mix of pink and white. I tossed the shoes in soon after, taking no chances.

I checked the time on my watch that I had sat on the nightstand. I needed to get back to my alibi for the night. A tall leggy blond was currently keeping my bed warm. I didn’t need her asking questions either. Before leaving, I had fucked her brains out causing her to get good and tired. She’d never know that I had snuck out and timed this entire thing down to a tee.

Other than taking a life, I was good at planning. Teachers in school had often told my father that I was extremely calculating and that if I put my brain to good use, I would be unstoppable.

Pulling on the clothes; I made a hasty exit out of the room. Checking the hallway, I eased out into the deserted hall, that smell of something rotting haunting the air. There was probably a dead body in one of these rooms. Taking the stairwell that led to a side exit, I once again embraced the night air of the city.

I needed to hurry though and couldn’t enjoy the feel of the air rushing over my face. It was rare these days that I got to enjoy the night. Death, murder…it could take a toll on a man, as my father warned me it would.

“Liam,” he would say from his death bed. “To lead the Bratva, is to not only become familiar with death, but its living embodiment.”

My father in the end had not enjoyed leading the organization. Always looking over his shoulder and worrying if someone would take his place. If we would be murdered in our beds while we slept. It was only when facing true and inevitable death, did he finally find happiness.

I made it back on time.

Just as I had calculated.

Mina was just rolling over and looking for a second round, which I was more than happy to do.