Chapter 3

Styx

I'd heard my mother scream more than once, but I remembered one time that had remained permanently in my mind, the sound something I would never forget. That had me thinking more and more about sweet Emily and what her life must be like. Her father was a powerful, brutal man just like mine had been. Three boys tolerating inexcusably cold behavior was one thing, but a sweet young girl? Sadly, one had nothing to do with the other.

Or did they?

I'd found out later from one of my brothers that my beloved mother had fled in terror from our father. I could never forget his maniacal laugh or the thunder rumbling in the distance. And God knows I'd never get used to the flash of lightning crisscrossing the sky in electric neon blue patterns as they'd done that night.

Maybe I was drawn to sweet Emily because we had something in common, our fathers nothing more than reprehensible pigs, our mothers far too good to have fallen in love with them. Or maybe I was turning another new leaf. Nah. The devil had taken hold of my soul and wasn't planning on returning it.

Now I hungered for a delicious taste of her. Risky as fuck? Hell, yes.

But so what? You only lived once. Right?

I used to think little of my life, someone people called when they felt they had no other choice, a man considered an enigma, someone who no longer existed. Now I embraced the darkness of my soul, enjoying the extreme wealth and fabulous life I'd carved out for myself, the toys that entertained me.

As I climbed from my Mercedes, the vehicle I used most often when handling business, I glanced up at the malevolent sky. There was an electricity in the air that hadn't been there before, the dampness creating a subtle stench of trash mixed with what had to be coming from the close-by barbeque joint. The combination was undoubtedly disgusting to those passing by but for me, it was just a part of enjoying the city limits of Boston, a location I'd grown to love over the years.

It wasn't my hometown, but I'd tried to make it mine, embracing the strange accents and oddities with food as best I could.

Now, several years later, I felt as if I fit in, even if there was dried blood remaining on my jacket. Nothing my fabulous dry cleaner couldn't remove. The sweet old guy was good to me, his kindness reflected in his yearly bonus for keeping his mouth shut about the condition of my clothes. I rarely accepted a job in Boston. First of all, it was risky as fuck to shit where you ate. More important, with all the evil in the world, the need for revenge rampant, I could work anywhere I wanted to in the world.

And I had clients in every location on earth.

Maybe I was just exhausted. I wasn't a young slicer and dicer of twenty-eight any longer. Why did the thought always make the bad man inside of me smile? Now I was pushing forty, every year away from my former life pushing a fog around my twenties.

I'd graduated college at twenty with honors, medical school right after, which I'd aced with flying colors. I'd interned in one of New York City's finest hospitals and settled down to a lucrative position in Boston. Life had been great.

Until it hadn't been.

I'd called in the cleaning crew a little while before, Michael's body likely already dumped into the harbor, his blood and guts feeding the fishies a big dinner. His wife would return to their fabulous estate without knowing a single thing had occurred inside their plush home. Hopefully, she'd go on with her life, finding a much better man to keep her in the upper echelon of society she'd grown used to. Not that I really gave a shit.

I hit the key fob and headed for my favorite burger joint in the entire city. Only it wasn't located in a brick-and-mortar building but a food truck I could always find it in the same spot on Tuesday nights. I whistled as I headed in that direction, hearing music coming from somewhere down the street. I didn't remember there were nightclubs on this street. How long had it been since I'd enjoyed going to a club, something I'd done endlessly during my more youthful days? Heck. I couldn't remember, I'd been so busy as of late, my expertise sought after by governments and villains all over the world.

I moved behind the line of six standing outside the truck's colorful exterior, still uncertain where the music was coming from. I'd driven down the road a thousand times over the years and hadn't encountered a piano bar anywhere. Hold on. The dark classical music wasn't representative of any type of club I'd been in, including those considered gothic. But the music certainly was to my liking. I found myself tapping my foot to the Rachmaninoff Prelude as I waited.

When it was finally my turn in front of the order window, I was swaying to the music, not realizing Roger, the illustrious owner, was staring at me. I lifted a single eyebrow, finally noticing his expression of amusement. He grinned and leaned over the small counter.

"You're enjoying the music, Mr. S?" We'd conversed enough he'd wanted to call me something. Obviously, I wasn't going to admit my full name to anyone. That was my private business. He'd been satisfied with the initial from my last name.

"I am."

"That means you're in a good mood. Not used to seeing you like that. What can I get you?"

"A double cheeseburger with the works." I rarely smiled, my scowl permanently locked onto my face, or so I'd heard from both my brothers.

"A double. Wow. You must have had a good day." He backed away, immediately grabbing two hamburger patties and tossing them on the flattop grill.

"I did. I really did." I'd finished a five-million-dollar job and had four more waiting in the wings. Including the one I'd yet to decide on taking. My family's stock portfolio had improved dramatically over the last two months, which meant I'd almost tripled our bottom line in two years. It was something I took great pride in. One of many lessons my father had taught his children was to be independent in all things. Never rely on the government or large corporations to fund our wealth. We had to create it on our own. My brothers and I had done that in spades.

"Good for you. What kind of cheese for your juicy piece of meat on this fabulous night?"

Roger was an old timer with a bad haircut and shit for a life, but he always managed to have a smile on his face. I'd started whistling just because of him. "Let me think. How about Havarti and a slice of cheddar?"

"Wow. Going all out. I like it. You need to give me some of your mojo, my friend. I could use a little luck in this year."

"Okay, Roger. I'll give you a tip. Duft Pharmaceuticals."

"What's that?" he asked as he flipped the burgers, tugging a wrapper from one of the shelves onto the counter before reaching for the cheese in the fridge.

"A stock that you should invest in. It's going to at minimum quadruple in value in the next week. I guarantee it."

"How the hell do you know that? You some inside trader or something?"

I laughed but was caught in the crescendo of the music coming from across the street. It was a ‘wow' moment. The skill and long fingers needed to play the piece were incredible and whoever was tickling the ivories was brilliant. "Hardly. Call me a soothsayer of stocks. I'm never wrong."

Roger lifted both eyebrows as he studied me, shaking his head as he offered me a lopsided grin. "I'll take your word for it, Mr. S. I wish I could but I ain't got no money to spare right now. Marla's been having a tough time."

His wife had more than her share of health problems. He wasn't the kind of man to complain but I'd seen the circles under his eyes on several occasions, finally asking what the fuck was going on in his life. "I'm sorry to hear that, my man. I really am."

"Hey," he said as he grabbed a spatula, placing two slices of cheese on the bottom before placing one of the patties on top. "We all have our crosses to bear. Don't we?"

"Yes, we do, my friend. We certainly do." Some of us more than others. As the concerto was nearing the end, I took a deep breath and turned toward the building across the street. "What is that place?"

"That's a music studio used by the university."

I don't know why I hadn't known that before. Maybe because the location reminded me of an old gothic Catholic Church. There were dozens of buildings in the city that had been repurposed over the years, but to use an old church as a music studio? Ah, the acoustics. Of course. No wonder I could hear the melodic strains of the concert piano from across the street.

A single streetlight cut through the darkness, the dim glow creating an almost eerie appearance against the chiseled stone and ornate building details.

"Fascinating," I said, not realizing I'd whispered the word.

"Some child prodigy is their star, I've heard. She plays pretty good. Don't you think?"

I didn't answer him, enjoying the final chords before the song ended. A smile crossed my face before I turned around.

"Here you go, Mr. S. I used Japanese mayonnaise this time. I heard it's all the rage."

"Why, thank you, Roger. You always kick things up a notch."

"I do try." He pushed the bag across the counter. "That'll be eight fifty."

"Ouch."

"Hey, I gotta earn a living."

The grin remained as I pulled out my wallet. "Yes, you do." I tugged out a twenty at first, tossing it across the counter. "Keep the change."

"Thanks, Mr. S. I really do appreciate it."

Before I slipped my wallet back into my trousers, I pulled out the thousand or so dollars I had in the leather billfold. When I eased it across the counter, he seemed shocked.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"Call it an intervention in your life, Rog. Now, go buy your lovely wife something before you go home tonight. Use the rest on Duft stock. Trust me. You'll thank me for it."

He was touched. I could tell that by the look in his eyes. "You're alright, Mr. S. You know that?"

"Just a nasty rumor." I grabbed the bag, immediately heading away from the counter since a new line had already started to form. I pulled out the cheeseburger as I stood on edge of the sidewalk, hoping I'd be serenaded by another song. Unfortunately, there was nothing but the sounds of horns blasting and tires squealing as brakes were applied with force.

After unwrapping my food, I took one bite then another, savoring the flavor more than usual. Now this was a fucking masterpiece, perfection on a bun. My only complaint was that he'd refused a long time ago to cook the burger the way I liked, blood red. He'd gone through five minutes of explain the basic of listeria, which had endeared me to the man.

After taking my third bite, my phone rang. There was nothing I hated more than being interrupted when feasting, fucking, or killing. I took another bite before yanking out my phone, glaring at the number. "Yes?"

"Is it done?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Of course it's done. That's what you hired me for." The client from tonight. Why did they bother to check? My reputation was everything.

"Good. I can wipe the fuck off my payroll." The man's laugh almost made me angry and I wasn't entirely certain why. Maybe simply because he'd dared call me when I'd told him to lose my fucking number. That meant I'd need to grab another phone, but only after the job I had coming up in a couple of days.

"You do that. Wire the other half of the money."

"I'll do that in the morning."

"You'll do it now or you'll regret your… tardiness. That much I promise you."

I sensed his fear since he knew all about my reputation, including the fact there wasn't a promise I hadn't kept.

"I'll take care of it in five minutes, Talon. Thank you."

"Sure thing. Nice doing business with you." I ended the call, shoving the phone back into my jacket pocket. When I glanced at my other hand, ketchup oozing off the bun, I realized I'd suddenly lost my appetite. Damn it. I hated wasting good food.

I hurriedly tossed the mess into the trashcan, ready to head back to my estate when I heard the lilting sound of feminine laughter. Spinning around, I scanned the street. The door to the music school was still open, two young men and a girl walking out together. One guy had a violin case, the other a viola. I couldn't care less about them, the pimply faced kids. But the girl skipping down the stairs, still laughing as she slipped into the light was something special.

I'd been with a lot of beautiful women in my life, those most would consider me lucky to have on my arm. But none so fabulous as the one with the blonde hair in a ponytail, the prodigy Roger had mentioned. Someone about her captivated me more so than usual, the sound of her joy drawing my attention as much as her stunning good looks. At least from what I could see coming from under the horrific yellow light.

Out of the shadows two men appeared. At first, I was ready to reach for my weapon, my instincts screaming the bastards were out to hurt her or worse. Then I realized they were protecting her, bodyguards. Wait a minute. Why would a musician so young need bodyguards? A sudden nagging swept into the back of my mind.

Maybe to some men she wouldn't garner a second look. She was in jeans and simple shirt, tugging on the collar of her jacket as the storm continued to slide closer. But to me, she was a bright spot in my world of darkness, a sweet angel commanding my attention. I felt compelled to get closer to her, which was dangerous in and of itself.

But here I was crossing the street toward her, longing for a chance to bask in her beauty. As I drew closer into what felt like a web of a spider drawing me in, the oxygen was suddenly ripped from my lungs. Everything about her was exquisite, from the delight in her eyes as she spoke with her colleagues to the animation she used with her long fingers and the slight swaying of her voluptuous body. I was completely mesmerized, shocked that anyone could have this kind of effect on me.

All I wanted to do was stand and watch her for a little while.

No, that wasn't entirely true. I wanted to snatch her off the street, taking her to my home where I'd keep her a prisoner. The thought was deliciously evil, but I was a sadistic man, my needs bordering on the depraved. But with her, I felt a strange sense of softness, a longing to get to know her before I dared defile her sweetness, robbing her of pure innocence.

Whew. I'd never had it this bad. I raked my hand through my hair, taking two more steps closer.

One of the young men started to walk away but not before she gripped his arms, giving him the kind of smile I wanted to experience. Another wave of desire rushed into my system but this time to crush the kid's skull between my fingers. Sadly, I couldn't do that.

When I was only twenty feet away, I was struck by the fact I'd seen her before. I was certain of it.

Fuck me.

It had finally dawned on me. While she looked entirely different in casual clothes, there was no mistaking her high cheekbones or that seductive smile. I reached into my other jacket pocket, retrieving the manila envelope I'd brought with me in case Michael had been late getting home. I liked to study my next mark carefully before I acted. When I pulled the single photograph of the girl I'd been sent, a little bit of light confirmed my fears.

The girl standing with her friends, the one who looked and played piano like a sweet angel sent from the heavens above was the woman I'd been hired to kill.

Taking a taste of her was suddenly all I could think about.

I knew what I wanted and what I would take.

Fuck the contract.

"My sweet angel. Soon you will surrender to me. Only to me."