Page 3

?

Brent

“P ut this on,” Reaper muttered, throwing a balaclava at me.

I grunted and slipped it over my head. His obsession with masks is ridiculous .

The Dictator–my grandfather–had me sequestered to covert jobs recently. He hated the so-called “stunts” I pulled, which weren’t anything but basic fights–that were agreed to.

Maybe.

Okay, not maybe.

Too many assault cases would do that to a guy.

“I hate wearing this shit. Plus, they know it’s me.” I picked up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

The toys would come out to play tonight for a man who betrayed the trust of the family business. I swore The Dictator ran the conglomerate like a mafia, but who was I to judge? I was just a bastard who liked violence to him, which left me shoved into a job that best suited my capabilities.

The job was simple. Elimination.

Reaper was the best man for the jobs that dealt with pulling information–and teeth. His love of violence was second to none.

“How long is the ride, boss?”

Holding out a duffel bag of work items to him, I shook my head. “Stop calling me boss. We’ve been over this; it’s weird. Just Brent. The ride shouldn’t be more than an hour. So, three hours max tonight, and I have a party to get to after this job. Let’s not dawdle, shall we?”

One would think that after a couple of years of working with someone we’d have the names down.

We didn’t.

I mentally prepared myself for another dead body as I hopped on my bike, slipping the helmet over my head. Sure, I was violent, but the dead bodies? Not my favorite.

I preferred punching men in the face and having them put up a good fight with me. Even better when they rightfully accused me of sleeping with their girlfriends. They were desperate to prove their manhood by winning a fight with me... which they never did.

The ride was nice and smooth, keeping up with Reaper as he split traffic was always the fun part. He never cared about his reckless driving with anyone, while I had to at least try not to die. My grandfather’s conglomerate, Chamberlain Industries, would be mine one day, seeing as I was the sole heir. It died with him if I didn’t get my hands on it.

We used a spot owned by an associate’s real estate company for a lot of our less-than-professional dealings, and this site was no different. A place under construction and heavily monitored by us was the perfect spot to, well, execute.

Reaper hopped off his bike, his weight lifting off it made it look as if it gasped in relief. He was a beefy motherfucker and somehow got giddy at each job he could get violent at. His body looked ready to crush heads with his biceps and insane amount of muscle. However old he was, he looked to have spent his entire life in the weight room with the goal of not fitting into door frames. Where I was built for speed, he was built for brute strength.

I wondered what his free time looked like some days. Other days, I didn’t want to know.

“You read the file?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “I only saw the end result.”

My hand went to my nose, pinching the bridge in annoyance. “We need names and information first. I need something to bring back to The Dictator or it’s my ass on the line.”

His eyes squint as he strokes his chin through his mask, kind of like how someone would stroke a beard... but I’m not sure if he even has one, I’ve never seen the dudes face

“How many names, and how much information before I send him to hell?”

“Just... whatever you can get. He’s been working with some rivals for a while and I need to know who, what, when, and where. Can you manage that?”

Shrugging again, the giddy motherfucker skipped over to the door like a school kid across the playground. And to think I liked violence? Being named ‘Reaper’ seemed to be for...reasons. All my thoughts ceased when he busted through the front door without so much as a warning.

If he wasn’t so good at his job...

I shook my head and followed him in.

What I found was Reaper had booted this man out of his chair onto the floor and stood over him, arms crossed. His bulky frame in skin-tight black clothing was intimidating this small man on the floor into almost tears.

“Woah! Augustus said that this was a business meeting!” He was basically screaming in fear of Reaper. Honestly? I would too. The fucker was scary.

Trying not to laugh at the scene of a grown man cowering in fear, I stood with my arms crossed in a similar stance. “This is a business meeting, but it’s also an intervention.”

He tried backing away, holding his hand out in a protective manner. “Wh-what is this about?”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, I’m going to make this easy for you. Give me the names, dates, times, or anything you have floating around in your noggin. Otherwise, Reaper here will pull them out of you.”

His eyes bulged out of his head as he looked back to the large, imposing figure standing over him. “I don’t know what you want!”

Reaper set his boot slowly to his head. “John, I will count to three because I’m a nice man sometimes.”

His boot pushed slowly.

“One...” His head was guided toward the floor.

“Two...” The ground and his head made connection with one another. Next, he’d apply pressure.

“And–”

“Wait! Wait! Jason! J-Jason Haines! He approached me about three years ago with a proposition.”

I scoffed. “You fucking scum. You’ve been a rat for three years?”

“He said your grandfather was going down with some other woman and told me I could be useful and make it out unscathed! I don’t know much more than that, I swear!”

Nodding at Reaper, he applied pressure to his head on the ground, making him cry out in pain.

Did Reaper just m– never mind .

“What did you do for him? Who else was involved?”

His pants were heavy, shallow breaths as he squirmed under the boot.

Not answering fast enough, Reaper bent down and yanked him onto the table with ease. He pulled out his ka-bar from his chest plate and held it over his dick. “Want me to perform a castration, boss?”

“No!” He screamed. “They all spoke in code, and they had nicknames for everyone!” Breathing ragged, he had no time to prepare for Reaper stabbing him in the thigh.

Blood oozed from the wound and Reaper let out a low chuckle.

“What else?” I pressed. “I don’t have all night and you’re making Reaper angry.”

“Look, I’m not the highest guy on the–OW!” He gripped his leg when the real pain hit from the knife being yanked out.

Reaper hovered the knife over his neck. “Take your pain like a man.”

John grunted and gritted his words through his teeth. “Not the highest guy on the totem pole... I provided info... places and shipments... that’s all”

I needed something else to go on–more information–or I’d be at the mercy of Augustus Vaugn, The Dictator himself. “More info or you die,” I said flatly.

Holding up a hand to protect his fresh wound, a tear falling from his eye, he continued. “Names I heard were random. Rabbit. Rose. Stick. The codes for movements even more so. Tower. Green. Garden. That’s all I know. They talked a big plan in the works, but I never heard specifics. Please, that’s–”

And... Reaper slit his throat.

“Goddamn it,” I sighed, watching John desperately grasp at the wound as blood poured out.

“Well...” he said, “you said you didn’t want to be late for the party.”

Where did we even find this guy?

Without hesitation, he pulled out his clean up kit from his bag and started into his duties. John looked dead enough, and I hoped I had enough to brief my grandfather when I inevitably had to get back to him with his demanding timeline.

A scheme that had been playing behind the scenes for at least three years. Jason Haines. Weird codenames. Got it.

He started dragging the body off the table and into a bag that appeared from his kit. “I’ll handle clean up, boss. Full write-up will be on your desk later tonight.”

“Uh, thanks, Reaper.”

“Fuck a pretty girl for me, will you?”

At least no day with him was boring.

Helmet on and bike started, I was off to my ‘normal’ college life. I hoped to make good on Reaper’s request because I needed to blow off some steam. One of my favorite ways to blow off steam if I was being honest.

Greek Row was not my favorite place to be despite being inducted into a fraternity by the demands of The Dictator. He said it would look better for me in the future, but I opted to live with a few friends in a neighborhood just far enough away from campus that I could have a reprieve from Greek life and the compound he lived in. A small room to myself and dark thoughts.

Nevertheless, I slowed to a stop in the driveway of the sorority house that was hosting the party this time. Beta Kappa Pi hosted most of the top parties on campus. The head of the house, Sloane, was a level ten clinger and, unfortunately, hosted a lot of the business events organized by her family. Seeing her often was truly annoying despite her being fun in bed.

And she was waiting for me, arms crossed, clearly in a pissy mood.

“Brent! Where have you been? You missed set up and I told you to be here early.”

I hadn’t even pulled my helmet off and she was already starting in on me. “I had work. You know I have no obligations to you, right?”

She stamped her foot as I brushed past her. “You could at least send a text.”

I waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah. Save it. I need a drink.”

The party was in full swing, and a lot of people looked drunk already. I needed to get a buzz on and clear my mind.

“Brent! My man!” Josh waved me over to the counter where he was pouring shots.

Good, I needed a few. “Hey, man. Got any for me? I could use a double.”

Handing me a freshly poured red cup full of Vodka, we tapped our cups together and drank.

“First week treating you alright?” His eyes seemed glazed over with booze which told me he’d been here a while.

“Yeah, how’s the party?”

“Good, good! A few rounds of beer pong got me relaxed enough. We demolished this cute blonde earlier before her boyfriend took over and got me loaded.” His head was bobbing to the beat and I could tell he should call it quits on drinking for a bit. His being too drunk never turned out well and we both played on the baseball team with me–Coach punished us all if one of us made mistakes.

Last time, it was my fuck up and Josh was due for another soon.

“Nice, man. Hey, I’m going to go pop out for a smoke. I’ll catch up in a bit. Don’t do anything stupid,” I said, pointing at him playfully.

My exit was interrupted by someone rudely bumping into me. I sighed, knowing this could turn south at a party with drunk students. He looked a bit drunk, and his eyes lit up as recognition hit him. “Hey! You’re Brent?” Words slurring, his face contorted into something that looked like anger.

“Yup,” I said, emphasizing the ‘p’ and expressing my annoyance with a grunt. I crossed my arms, looking him over.

I saw what he was doing before he knew what he was doing. An arm wound up and aimed a punch directly at my face. Easily slipping his sloppy punch, I caught his arm. “Whatcha doing?”

He spit in my face. “You slept with my girlfriend!”

A few eyes turned in our direction and I heard a couple of chuckles from the back as I wiped my face.

“So?” I smirked.

Anger grew behind his drunken gaze. “You’re a–a bitch! That’s my girl, man...” He tried to yank his arm from my grip.

“Nah,” I said, shoving him back. “She wasn’t your girlfriend. Sounds like it was just your turn, bro.”

With that, he snapped and charged for me. Another easy slip–he was far too drunk for this. Shoving him to the ground as I chuckled from the pure stupidity of our interaction, I left him in a mess on the floor while he muttered some other insults and slipped out the back to enjoy a cigarette in peace.

Contemplating the meeting with my grandfather, I took mental notes of what I’d gotten out of John before his inevitable–too early–death. Damn Reaper for being trigger happy. Work had been picking up with whispers of traitors and rumblings of something I wasn’t privy to just yet.

Nothing a cigarette couldn’t fix.

I leaned up against the railing, flipping my zippo out of my pocket with a case of cigarettes. The nicotine settled the feelings in my bones and gave me a rush at the same time. The best of both worlds , I thought as I took my first puff, looking at the party goers in the yard living their best lives.

A lot of these kids did dirty business like I did–just without the death part. We all held our places in this filthy little world of the elites. Some of them were here for fun before joining the family business, and others were here to keep tabs on the others. Not all was what it seemed at Willow Bay.

The back door opened and that cute little blonde that lives across the street from me rushed out looking a hot mess. Hmm, I wonder what has her flustered like that . She adjusted her hair and outfit, looking like she felt out of place here. She looked like the type of fun I was looking for tonight, but her posture said something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on...

She took in the sights before settling her gaze on me. Why was she staring at me? She did that earlier, too. It wasn’t ‘fuck me’ eyes like the rest of the girls, but more out of sheer curiosity. Maybe my tattoos and overall personality confused her. Whatever it was, I hoped she took full advantage as I raked my eyes over her delicious body.

I held up my cigarette case in her direction. “Want one?”

“Eh, fuck it,” she said.

Blondie had a dirty mouth, too? Just my luck. I held her gaze as I lit up the cigarette that hung from her full lips. I think I like this one.

“Tired of the party?”

Her eyes didn’t waver from mine as she dove into her ramblings. “Not really. I bombed beer pong and then found my friend a soda she’s been looking for.” She held up a can of soda. “But, she’s with a guy so they’re probably sequestered somewhere. Figured I’d chill for a bit before I started back up looking for her.” She took an awkward drag from the cigarette, clearly never having smoked a day in her life. It was cute.

I’ll see you around later , I thought, pushing off the railing and flicking my spent butt somewhere into the ether.

Her mouth shot open. “Hey! That’s littering!”

I shook my head and laughed. “Look around, babe. Everyone is littering.”

Knowing I’d come back for her later, I stalked off into the night to make a phone call. Blondie would have to wait for a bit, but I silently promised her I’d come back for some fun.