Chapter 3

Three

Sapphire

I have a lot of names. Black sheep, trash, death, and thief. But my personal favorite is the daughter of the walking dead. And that’s just what most of my family calls me.

People at Genesis call me undertaker—the one who organizes the removal of unwanted bodies after conflicts. But that’s the least of my duties. My main job is being the medium between runners like Snake Eyes here and bounty holders. AKA Genesis’ clients. It’s not as cut and dry as the title suggests and I’ve only held the position for a little over three weeks. The ink on my diploma hasn’t even dried yet. But that’s long enough to know this is not my forever job. Death dealing is not my cup of tea. With this title comes power I never held before. And frankly, I’m not sure I want it.

But I have bills and a reputation to fix. So here I am.

I just don’t know how to tell my cousin this life isn’t for me. You see, at nearly fifteen years my senior he made sure I didn’t land on the streets when no one else cared enough about the thief’s daughter. I was barely fifteen back then, as was Belle. She couldn’t help me any more than I could help myself when their parents shunned me. With no place to go Harlon kept me out of the system and gave me a home when everyone else in the family turned their backs.

Both he and Belle call me family.

But you can call me Sapphire. Sapphire Constantine.

I spent the last ten years trying to shake off the stigma of my father’s sins, but they cling to me worse than the stench of death. And in this business, I might as well slap on a glowing neon bullseye to my back and send out a big fat I DARE YOU to all the runners in the city and try my luck.

Major spoiler alert. I would seriously be dead within fifteen minutes in Chicago’s streets. The real streets. I am not a John Wick. I don’t even have a cute little puppy. Sad really.

“You’re not thinking of holding out on me, are you? Running off with that pretty silver laptop of yours and all the codes to the accounts holding my money? Come on, give me a reason to kill you here, right now.”

“You don’t trust easily, do you, Snaky?” I grin, knowing full well I shouldn’t tempt the cold-blooded reptile, but I’ve always had an unhealthy relationship with danger.

He strikes so fast I don’t have time to kick him in the nuts and run before the tip of a knife breaks the tender skin just beneath my chin.

I suck in harshly.

His nose touches mine and I’m going to take the mental image of his ugly mug into my nightmares. Along with his bad breath.

“Call me that one more time, you bitch skank. I don’t know what our bosses think bringing you in here will do. Maybe they are trying to get you killed.” He twists the blade a fraction deeper.

Son-of-a-bitch, that hurts.

“I’ll do it for free.”

Venom drips from his words. A thick, jean-clad thigh pries my legs apart. He shoves in another half a foot and drives the bony part of his knee into my crotch.

I really need to breathe.

My eyes dart to where security is leaning against the elevator for a little help but they might as well be stone statues. So much for paying for a man’s loyalty. Their fingernails seem to be more interesting than me getting assaulted.

Fuckers. Okay then.

Today is a pretty summer day. The kind that makes a girl want to wear a skirt, frilly top, chick sandals…and a knife secured to their thigh.

No? Just me? Maybe that makes me the one with trust issues.

I hear the swoosh of elevator doors and drag my eyes to the side of me to see Harlon and his two partners join the party. Three sets of dark eyes fill with rage the second they spot me up against the wall, knife to my throat.

Snake Eyes is too far gone into his head and fails to realize the danger he’s just slithered into.

“What’s the saying? It’s easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission? Maybe they don’t realize bringing you on is gonna cost them. No one wants to work with thieves.”

He teases the tip a little deeper. Warm drops of blood run down my chin and throat to stain my white top.

Those fingers around my throat grow tighter and the tiny white dots floating in my vision are not a good sign

“You’re such a do-gooder,” I rasp, dryly.

The weight of him pressing into me is overwhelming. Fighting to breathe, I yank the ends of my skirt up and fumble for my blade. Milliseconds feel like minutes until I finally locate the clasp and pop the button. Using more luck than skill, I bury the four-inch silver blade into Snake Eye’s wrist with a sickening thunk.

“But you’ll have to do better at trying to scare me, asshole,” I aim to sound tough and badass, but that’s hard to do when the sides of my throat are being forced together.

His fingers turn more brutal and I cling to consciousness.

“What the hell?” His eyes bulge and then suddenly, his grip is gone and the black carpet does a lousy job cushioning my fall.

His blade drops to the floor. Blood runs down his hand and disappears into the cusp of his jacket. The way his face screws into a pucker of disgust makes me think the man has never seen his own blood.

I’m gasping for air on my hands and knees when I see Belle’s face pop up on my phone with a selfie of her with her three lovers all smiling.

God, how I wish I could have that level of happiness. Go, you Belle.

Distracted, I narrowly miss the kick aimed for my midriff.

“What, Snaky?” I hiss dizzily at him despite my tender throat and grin at the shock on his face that I could get the upper hand. “Don’t like it when the ladies fight back?”

An inch of my blade pokes out of one side while the handle sticks out of the other.

I’m only now really seeing the damage of my actions.

My hand flies to my mouth. Oh, God. My stomach gurgles. I’ve never committed a violent act in my life and now I want to shrivel into the floor.

But in a way, he got what he deserved too.

Snake Eyes roars with pain and grips his bleeding wrist. Size sixteen boots stomp all over my phone and ledger. He glares at me with sparks of anger and evil in his eyes.

“You fucking, bitch. I swear to God I’m going to kill you.”

He stumbles back. He doesn’t look like he’s taking the whole situation with the level of grace and humility as he should. In fact, the man looks like he’s about to go for his bigger weapon when he realizes three powerful mafia men are barreling toward us.

“Snake!” Harlon barks, his tone thick with fury. The security guards on either side magically forget about their hangnails and pop to attention. But it’s too late. They’ve been spotted.

“I’ll speak with you later.” Santi, my cousin’s partner, and best friend, nails the guards with a death glare and picks up his walkie to talk to the security room.

I flick my eyes over the brute’s shoulder to catch Lexi’s eyes and mouth a silent “thank you”.

Harlon, Santi, and Cassius all move swiftly. Harlon is in the front. His eyes latch onto Snake’s wrist. Santi and Cassius bring up either flank.

Alone they are powerful. Together, they are unstoppable.

Just like the Southern Alliance, but I flick the thought away for another time.

“You just had to go and tattle on me.” Twitchy fingers go for what I think is a gun inside Snake’s leather jacket. What else would an assassin have in there?

I hold up both hands. “Look, you left me with no choice. What was I supposed to do? Let you play slice-an-undertaker? I like this blouse and it cost me a fortune.”

“I hear you’re having trouble.”

Harlon, looking every bit the six-foot mobster with a chip on his shoulder grabs the back of Snake Eye’s collar and throws his two-eighty frame toward the exit like a rag doll. The clumsy douche stumbles, falls, stands, and then falls again when he realizes his boss has a loaded .357 magnum pointed at his ball sack.

“Boss. Mr. Constantine. Look, I was just tryin’ to teach the new undertaker who holds the power here. We don’t work for thieves.” His scared expression doesn’t match the snarled warning in his tone. Too bad for him.

Harlon cocks the hammer.

The crack of the gun going off isn’t what makes me jump. It’s the deafening shriek from the leather-clad assassin. He crunches into the fetal position when a bullet sinks into the carpet where his dick had been a fraction of a second earlier.

Cassius’ voice goes flat. “It sure the fuck isn’t you, Snake. Is it?”

Crack.

He smacks the butt of his Desert Eagle into the back of the man’s head.

“Nu, nu…no, sir.”

“Has anyone taken something that belongs to you?”

That’s Santi. He’s beside Snake checking over his nails like this is some irritation and nothing more.

“No, sir.”

“I see.” Santi fists a handful of the man’s hair and pulls him to his feet. “Threaten my friend’s family and you might as well be threatening me. Since your parents didn’t teach you manners, let me remind you how to behave in another man’s home, pedazo de mierda .” Piece of shit.

I rarely hear Santi fall into his native Spanish tongue so that’s a very important clue for Snake Eyes about just how pissed he’s gotten his boss.

Santi drives a fist into Snake’s mouth. Once and then again. “When you speak to a lady in our house, you watch your fucking tongue. You have issues. You come to us. Got it?”

Fresh guards come off the elevator and my cousin signals toward the two worthless ones still looking like statues.

Cassius jerks his chin toward each of the offenders. “Take him to the lower level. Leave him in a waiting cell. And these two. Put them in there with him. I’ll be down momentarily.”

Ooh shit. I forgot to mention the holding floor. A discreet level only the unlucky ever find out about. Sucks to be them.

All three pale but hey, karma, right?

I raise my chin and hold my attacker’s hatred-filled gaze as he’s shoved toward the elevator, my blade still in his wrist.

Cassius’ lips part with a sarcastic smile when he comes to check my throat. “You just can’t have a normal day at the office, can you? Always the trouble maker,” he teases tugging at the ends of my hair. Something he’s done from the first day I met him years back.

I smirk right back. “You know me. Action at every turn.”

Not really. My life is as mundane as it can get. Wake. Breakfast. Sign contracts. Shuffle millions of dollars around. Bed.

Santi joins us and clips my jaw in a playful tap. “You’ll have a few bruises, hermosa , but I think you got the upper hand.” When Harlon couldn’t watch over me his childhood friends were there to help. The concern in Santi’s tone and Cassius’ touch is brotherly and welcomed.

Cassius winks at me, bends, and collects the items I dropped along with Snaky’s blade.

My throat feels bone dry and tender so I just nod and tuck my trembling fingers around the ledger and my now cracked phone he retrieves from the floor.

I guess I was right about today being a real ass-dragger.

I didn’t see him at first, but a man in a leather cut is leaning against the reception desk with his feet crossed and looking bored. He turns to say something to Lexi and that is when I see the familiar flaming skull across the expanse of his back.

Harlon finishes with the guards and joins us, his fingers automatically straightening his immaculate cuffs.

Good-looking, confident, and observant. Reminds me of the men of Genesis. His name comes to me after a few moments. Riot. A brother of the Sons of Bratva Savages. His being here means trouble is on his ass.

Now what?

I don’t have a lot of fucks to give at the moment so I don’t put any effort into my tone. “Why the hell is a Savage here?”