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Brent

T he bass of the party’s music pounded in my bones as I navigated through the crowd in the dark. Bodies were everywhere and everyone was wasted out of their minds. My ears bled when Sloane’s voice cut through the crowd. She was giving some girl a hard time, swaying as she spoke.

I took a closer look and Blondie was next to the girl Sloane was laying into. Her laughter was a bit too loud, movements too unsteady, and I could smell trouble. She was beyond drunk.

“Take it off!” She yelled. I couldn’t hear much else, but it didn’t look good.

There was some extra commotion and then she threw her drink onto Fallon’s friend. Goddamn it.

“You bitch!” Kelly swiped at her dress and left quickly.

Fallon was frozen in place looking far too adorable with her wide eyes. She looked shocked and unsure of what to do before Sloane spun around to walk away. Well, stumbled.

I waited for her to get far enough away to snag her by her arm.

“Hey, baby,” she drawled.

“Sloane,” I hissed, motioning for her little minions to leave her to us.

With Sloane, everything was predictable. Her family status solidified her attitude–spoiled. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and with whom she wanted. I hated her family for being the business connections within the twisted little world we lived in. She never had to worry her head about much since she’d probably get married off to the highest bidder. It sometimes made me feel bad for her and I understood why she lashed out. Only sometimes.

I dragged her farther from the crowded room while she struggled, finally pulling her arm out of my grip.

“Can you not? You said I’m not yours! You can’t come in here and do what you want with my arms!” Thank God I spoke drunk Sloane.

I sighed and folded my arms over my chest. “You’ve had enough tonight. You need to get home.”

Her face softened, looking almost sensual. “Are you going to punish me for being a bad girl?”

With some heavy coaxing and promises of things I knew she’d forget in the morning, I convinced her to leave. She only lived a few houses away and getting her into bed guaranteed she would fall asleep immediately.

She did.

I plopped in the chair at her desk and took a breather. I was not supposed to be a drunk escort. If anything, I planned on snatching Fallon again to force her to come with me for some answers.

Why did my grandfather forbid me to canoodle with her? No idea. All I knew was that she was Maria’s kid, and my grandfather loved Maria like a daughter. Since his only child ended her life, I couldn’t blame him for forcing the title onto someone else. We all have demons of our own.

But then, why the beatings? He fucking pulled a fucking gun on me–he had a temper, sure. It happened multiple times before, but telling me to stay away from Fallon like this only pushed me closer to her.

I planned to have that girl eating out of my hands whether she–or The Dictator–liked it or not.

Sloane looked to be asleep, and I took that as my cue to leave. My focus was on Fallon and getting back to the party. I hoped to find her in the chaos that was a sorority afterparty. She is mine.

Sloane had a habit of trying to beat other people down to make herself feel better, a symptom of the life she lived. I didn’t like it and that’s why I never wanted anything to do with her despite her desperately hanging on. She mocked me and told me I had commitment issues–which was true, but maybe she was just a girl who needed to stop flinging herself on me. She was college fun just like the others were, and I wasn’t here for anything but work.

So was she.

The music inside was too loud to hear myself think. A smoke break before finding Fallon was in order. She looked good in that dress she wore, and it pissed me off with how she brushed me off. I shrugged off the thought in the brisk night air out back where I found a secluded spot to light up. The smell overpowered the stench of beer and sweat, calming my nerves like it always did.

What was it about her? Those innocent eyes? The way her lips wanted mine even though she denied it? Whatever it was, I liked it and I wanted her.

Speak of the devil , I thought, hearing her voice nearby. Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to eavesdrop. Leaning closer, her voice became clearer.

“I...are you asking me to be your girlfriend officially?” She didn’t sound sure of herself, which meant there was room for me in her life. Hell, maybe she’d turn him down because I’d already weaseled my way into her brain.

She was really something, though. She had a baseball star and a football player paying attention to her all in the same week and struggled to make a decision. I was so intrigued by her, and it pissed me off that I couldn’t get a read on the girl.

They said something else I couldn’t make out from their hushed tones, but he didn’t sound like he was too enthusiastic about it. Did she reject him?

“Why don’t we go back to your place to hangout?” He asked. Doesn’t sound like a rejection to me.

Well, that was frustrating. I moved slightly to see if I could get a visual on them. I was already eavesdropping, so I figured staring wasn’t any worse. I could hear Reaper, egging me on in the back of my mind. The fucker would probably be jerking off to this shit.

In view, his mouth was on hers and she took the kiss with more want than she led on. No hesitation like she had with me. Challenge accepted, Blondie.

I was done watching. I finished my cigarette and crushed it under my boot.

Maybe I wasn’t done because I ended up in our neighborhood, sitting on my porch wanting to catch her coming home. If she ever did. The night was quiet, except for the occasional car passing or music from farther away. I leaned back in my chair and lit up a cigarette, letting my thoughts drift to more important matters.

The Dictator started rolling around in my mind with his orders and the jobs he planned out. We had other matters to put to bed, things looking messier with each job we went to. I made a mental note to ask Reaper about what he knew, since I was usually just told to go and execute. They never trusted me much even though I would supposedly inherit the company at some point.

If he’d just trust me more. Oh, but he can’t. I’m just a nuisance to him.

A car slowly rolled down the street and the headlights forced me to cover my eyes. I scooted down to avoid being seen but stayed in a position where I could easily see what happened. It stopped at Fallon’s house and parked. My vision readjusted, seeing Garrett and Fallon walking to the front door.

I bet she’ll lock lips with him and think of me. I wanted her to. The question of if she would burned in the back of my mind.

Why am I being so creepy? Usually, I would just dip out if they were too challenging. But not with her.

Fallon and Garrett stood at her doorstep. This time, I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I wanted to. Was she rejecting him or accepting him? I plotted something and stashed it in the back of my mind for later while I watched their body language. They were standing too close for the second time tonight. His hand found its way up to the left side of her face, caressing her jaw.

It was pretty much a movie in slow motion as they kissed again. Long and drawn out, I felt my stomach do something...weird. The way her mouth moved with his for too long before they pulled away made me want to punch him. He said something else to her before he turned to leave, and I watched as her eyes tracked him longingly while he went.

Does she look at me like that?

She closed the door after he drove away and I stood up, contemplating my options. I could march over there and kidnap her, but that would make me late to see Reaper.

Unsure of how long I actually stood there, I headed to my bike to show up late anyway.

Reaper was in my wing of the house when I arrived, lounging in my favorite chair and drinking my favorite bottle of whiskey. He wasn’t a very patient man.

Where did that fucking cat come from? It sat in his lap purring like a fucking engine.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Hanging out. Want some?”

“Considering that’s my fucking alcohol, I feel like our roles should be reversed. Doesn’t matter. What did you find out this week? Dictator is being ridiculously cryptic, and then he beat me within an inch of my life after he found out I went out with the ‘Montgomery girl’.”

His facial expression was hidden behind his mask. This time he wore a plain black balaclava. I didn’t complain; he once wore a silicone horse head. The shit he wore on his head was so strange, but I was in no mood to comment on them. The only thing I ever saw were his green eyes and–sometimes–his thick brown eyebrows. When his eyebrows were visible, I could usually guess his facial expressions.

“Your fault for being late.” He threw back his glass and poured another. “As for the girl, she’s Maria’s heir. Mr. Vaughn had a close relationship with her.” He stroked the cat in his lap and lit up a cigar from my stash. He had no boundaries, but at some point, I got used to it. “Do you think...”

“Ew, what the fuck? That I just tried to bang my aunt? No way in hell. He probably sees her as another Maria. Whatever is going on with her, I’m not allowed to know.”

He shrugged. “The dirty side of the business has been in rocky waters from all these men we’re taking out lately. He probably wants to get to her first. I’ve been here since before Maria died and he sang her praises daily. They were strong partners in crime. The whispers, though, are about some ‘girl’ and how her being brought in needs to happen sooner rather than later. I assume that’s your fuck buddy.”

If only she was my fuck buddy. Well, I wanted more from her than that. She was interesting and mouthy–two things I never encountered with the girls on campus or around me in general. They all wanted to drop their panties for me as soon as they saw me, but she didn’t And damn, if that didn’t piss me off.

I leaned back in the chair, taking a swig of the drink while digesting his words. “What else is in these whispers? Dictator doesn’t tell me shit and you’re some of my only ears here.”

“You know them.” He cracked his neck and puffed from one of my expensive Cuban cigars. “I get orders and I’m happy with it, but there is something fucked going on in the dark side of the world. More stabbing for me and less questions to ask. If I were to take a guess from what I hear, there are more snakes in the grass than you’d think. We have old business connects turning into wolves for Maria’s company. Hence, your little fuck toy needing to come in now.” He turned his attention to petting the cat and swiping around on his phone. For someone who was just a hired gun, I kind of liked him. He was straightforward. If he ever let me see his face, maybe we’d be friends.

It made sense that there were people wanting Montgomery Group. People took to hostile takeovers all the time–especially in our part of society. It was always cutthroat, and you needed to stay on top of your game to play the right way. But what was with all the movement recently? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to act after she died and not five years later? Too many questions to ask for one night, but I shelved them to the back of my mind for more digging later.

Reaper laid his head back in my chair. “Enough talking about boring fucking shit. Tell me about that blonde girl you railed. Does she have a friend for me?”

“Big boy can’t find his own bitches?”

He threw my glass at me. “Fuck you. If you weren’t my boss, I’d kill you for that.”

“I’d like to see you try, loser,” I laughed, dodging the glass.

“I have a few files of some men we were assigned.”

“And?”

He laughed. It was a cold and startling laugh that only a trained killer like him would have. “We have assignments, dickhead. Stabbing? Don’t mind if I do.”

I sighed, knocking back the rest of my drink. “You couldn’t have led with that?”

He tossed me a set of keys and a bright pink ski mask. Fuck this guy. “Giddy up, pretty boy. We’re going killing tonight and getting some more info. You need to at least know why gramps doesn’t want you fucking that pretty girl.”

Blondie flooded my mind. Those blue eyes and wicked smirk appeared, taunting me with that attitude. For her, I’d definitely kill a few people. Hell, maybe a lot of people. Intriguing didn’t even begin to cover what she was. A brat? Surely. A puzzle? Mine to solve.

She wouldn’t see it coming, but I’d have her begging on her knees for me soon. Dictator and her boyfriend be damned. No one has stopped me from doing what I wanted to anyway. Not even the law. And she had no clue...

“Fuck. You. I’m not wearing this shit.”

His laugh filled the halls as we made our way out into the night. Answers were what I was going to get. And maybe, just maybe, I’d earn a seat at my grandfather’s table since he decided I was only good enough for his dirty work.

––––––––

“W hat the fuck is Jason Haines planning?” Reaper smashed the guy’s head in with each word. Clearly, he had a personal stake in getting me laid.

The screams of a grown ass man echoed through the room, and I secretly got some sick enjoyment out of it. I hadn’t been laid in a minute, so watching some torture would put some pep in my step until I finally landed Blondie in bed. Which I will very soon.

I sat back and watched Reaper continue his oddly satisfying assault, his fists connecting with increasingly wet thuds to Chris’s body. Blood was inevitable. The guy was relentless when it came to getting information–and me a love life, apparently. “Alright, alright,” I said, pulling him back a few inches. “Let’s not kill him just yet,”

Reaper brandished his ka-bar at him, waving it around. His eyes were crazy behind his mask, and he was in shark mode from smelling all the blood around us. Whoever fucked this guy’s head in the past did me a favor when I needed him to pull out every brutal stop.

Chris was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly. His nose looked busted from how smushed and crooked it was, blood trickling out of it, dripping down into his mouth. Whatever didn’t go in his mouth went down his neck and painted the front of his shirt crimson. I was sure I saw purple beginning to appear around one of his eyes. Damn, Reaper could bludgeon someone. “Okay, I need a break.” His voice was pathetic, almost begging.

I raised an eyebrow. Did he seriously think he could ask favors? “You get a break if you give me information. Otherwise, my colleague here will continue.”

His hand went to his chest to steady himself. I saw so many self-comforting or defensive maneuvers from the guys we tortured, yet they all ended up looking the same–pathetic and begging for it to stop. “All I know,” he struggled to get out between breaths, “is that they hired someone to track some girl they kept calling Rose . She’s got to make a downfall before next year for some power transfer. It sounds like they’re planning a hostile takeover for the underworld right now. A lot of power struggles are happening; a lot of new players are entering the ring,”

Reaper stabbed him in the leg. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“What?” He looked back at me, yanking the knife out as quickly as he stabbed it in.

I shook my head. “Anyway, what else do you know? What type of tracking, what does this Rose character look like, and what do you know about the power struggles in the underworld?”

“She–AH!” His body jumped at Reaper stomping on his injured leg. “She’s just some kid! I don’t know! Surveillance! I don’t know her or what Jason is even talking about! I wasn’t even supposed to be there that early...” He clutched his leg and tears streamed down his face. I didn’t blame him; it looked painful.

We learned that Chris was a higher-level runner hired by James himself and was given to us by one of our rats via Reaper's information extraction methods. Naturally, we nabbed him and brought him with us. Reaper loved a good kidnapping before torture and killing, and I’d never seen him happier.

I nodded at Reaper. He took my direction and stabbed the other leg. Every time he stabbed, it was like ripping a wet pair of jeans in one go–a thick crunch almost. He screamed–again–and begged us to stop. “We stop when you offer up more information,” I said, leaning over to inspect the stab site.

“Or if you die,” Reaper laughed.

“I don’t know! Please.” The low, pitiful begging wouldn’t work.

This session had gone on for too long, and I was pretty sure he said all he really knew. We’d never know and all I knew was that I wanted to lay in bed and sleep for ten hours. I unholstered by gun from my waistband and pointed it at his head as Reaper looked at me like a proud father. “I’m tired. Now, what the fuck aren’t you telling me?”

His hands went up in that typical defensive position. “That’s all! I’ve given you a play-by-play of my entire time there and anything I heard from Jason and his girlfriend.”

“What is his girlfriend’s name?”

“She’s called Rabbit! I don’t know her name!” His tears freely flowed from his eyes, mixing with the blood dripping from his facial injuries. It was sort of pathetic, really.

“What. Else.” I positioned myself to press the muzzle to his forehead. The pad of my finger came to rest on the trigger, ready to send this idiot to his maker. I preferred when Reaper did the killing, but I was sick and fucking tired of not getting what I wanted to move up in the ranks under my grandfather. The game felt changed and I needed to prove myself.

And take my anger out on someone that wouldn’t land me in handcuffs.

“Nothing,” he sobbed. “I swear to you. Please I–” BANG!

My ears rang for a few seconds. I noted to start bringing some earplugs with me in case I felt like getting festive. Saving your hearing was worth it.

Reaper looked over at me, eyes wide and rubbing his ears. Shocked, maybe? “Damn, boss. I thought I was going to kill him.”

“You take too long,” I said flatly and shook my head. Putting the gun back in its holster, I turned on my heel to walk away and shake off my frustration.

Fallon was connected to something; I could feel it. The puzzle pieces felt like they fit together somehow, and I was scrambling to catch up with the others who saw more than I did. She’s the Montgomery girl I need to ‘stay away from’, there is a girl named Rose being surveilled, and there seems to be even dirtier business in the underworld than I could have dreamed of. My sources weren’t providing what I wanted them to, and I decided to start pushing them more.

Something, somewhere, was fucked and I couldn’t figure out what it was. My next plan of attack was meeting with The Dictator and begging for a better position within the company or cleaning myself up enough to prove that I can work well with others. Anything to bring me in closer.

I was tired of being seen like the black sheep. The disappointing bastard that showed up on his doorstep about two decades ago. The face that reminded him of his dead daughter. I planned to prove myself or die trying by getting him the information he looked for–even if I didn’t know what his meetings were about or what knowledge he had.

I also needed to make my plan for catching Blondie off guard. Maybe some light kidnapping.

“Reaper?” I asked into the room.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Find out what you can about what he just said and make him disappear.”