2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Dominic

"Dom! It's been way too long since we saw you! What have you been up to?" William Bianchi's enthusiasm on the other end of the phone makes me smile just slightly.

My friend doesn't ever seem to let the world get to him, which is a pleasant change from the people that usually surround me.

I met Will Bianchi when his father hired me to assassinate someone. That's how I meet most of the people in my life.

Being a skilled and circumspect assassin has many perks, but it does limit your social circle significantly.

During my work for the Bianchi family, Will and I connected on the oddest level. Now, he's one of the few people I can vent to about my life, without worrying about whether I can trust him.

We both have dirt on each other, and it makes our friendship work.

"How are you, Will? I've been busy, I'm sorry. I did tell your mom I'd come over for dinner soon, but there's just been a lot of crap to sort out on this end." I put the phone on speaker so that I can finish getting ready.

I can't be late to see Vince. He'll throw a fit if I am. But I always enjoy a conversation with Will, so I'll multitask for the sake of my adopted father and my best friend.

"No worries, man, she understands. I told her you just have way too many heads to hunt." He chuckles, but I freeze. Mrs. Bianchi may have a vague idea of what I do, but I'd never want her to know any details about my line of work.

"I'm kidding," Will says, hearing me go quiet. "Don't worry about your secrets. They're safe with me."

"You're hilarious," I say, thinking about the long list of people I've made go away for powerful people.

When my adopted dad, Vincenzo Romano, adopted me, neither of us knew that I'd become such a powerful weapon in his arsenal.

I had taken to the job of "removing" difficult people like a duck takes to water. I only needed a very little amount of training to become excellent at my job.

Vince had originally taken me in as something similar to a hostage, to help pay back a debt my dead father had owed him. Over time, however, we had grown close, and I had taken over as his right-hand man in many ways.

Once my debt was paid, Vince had told me that I could take up any other kind of business, so long as it didn't conflict with his drug-running work.

It didn't take me long to choose to buy this club and to hire dancers to work here. I treated them fairly and paid them very well. It was to honor the memory of my sweet, gentle, drug-addicted mother who had struggled to take care of us on a dancer's salary.

Assassinations were something I did mostly for enjoyment these days. I made plenty of money at the club and I liked being able to stay away from drug sales as well.

After watching my mother struggle with her addiction throughout my childhood, I didn't feel good about selling products that ruined people's lives.

"No, but seriously," Will was saying. I let my wandering thoughts go and focused in on his words again. "Why don't you make my mom happy and come to my sister's birthday party tomorrow? It's her twenty-second birthday, but we want to make up for missing her twenty-oner. Most of the guest list right now are on a waiting list for retirement homes."

I knew that Will had a younger sister, but I'd never met her. By the time I was hired by Mr. Bianchi, their young daughter was out of the house and in school somewhere overseas.

As a thank you for the quick work years ago, Mr. Bianchi found me a fantastic deal on a house out in Chicago Heights, where I plan to retire. I also got Mrs. Bianchi as a substitute mom, enjoying Thanksgiving dinners and even Christmas Eve with the family.

It wasn't at all strange for me to come to a family event, even if it was for Will's sister, who I've never met.

"I don't know…are we going to be the only people young enough to have fun besides your sister?" I ask. "You know I don't have anything to offer to a gathering for a young girl." I'm five years older than Will, and he's quite a bit older than his sister as well.

Hanging out with college-age girls isn't my usual idea of a good time.

"C'mon Dom, you'll have fun. And there's like three people you'll want to keep an eye on during the party." The Bianchi family moves in high society circles, which also means they know a few of the dodgy businessmen who owe my family money.

Sometimes, attending one of their parties and making sure those men saw my face was good for debt collection.

I sigh. "All right, I'll be there. What do I bring as a gift?"

"Oh, Gianna is spoiled. Bring whatever expensive thing you think she'll like."

We hang up and I head out the door to see my father. Not my biological father, but the man who has taken care of me for a large portion of my life.

As I drive to the meeting, I think about the past. When I was fourteen, I was arrested for smashing in my stepfather's head with his signed baseball bat. Not for no reason—I walked in on him attacking my mother for the umpteenth time and I lost my shit.

He died, and my mom could never bring herself to forgive me for taking her "soulmate".

Things got even more interesting when Vince and his guys showed up at the juvenile detention center, explaining to me that my stepfather had owed them more money than my fourteen-year-old brain could even picture, and now they were going to collect that from me.

Life seemed like it was out to get me, until Vince saw the potential in me, I guess, and offered me a deal. He would take me in and keep me out of juvie— but only if I agreed to work for him.

It's been seventeen years, and I have my freedom as long as I help Vince out when he needs it. My only rule is that I don't touch kids or women, but any grown man is fair game. Especially if he's a bad person.

When I walk up to Vince's house, I'm greeted by a new doorman. I wonder what happened to the one I saw just three days ago, and hope he was allowed to leave alive.

He told me he had a little daughter at home. These guys usually don't last long once they realize what goes on behind the closed doors, but Vince is careful about who he lets walk out of his house.

The doorman lets me in, and I make my way to the office, where I can hear loud voices.

"I don't give a damn! I told you that Friday was your deadline," Vince is yelling into the phone as I walk in. "I'm ending this call, but believe me when I tell you, this isn't the last you will hear about this!"

Vince slams the phone down on his desk and gets up to hug me. He's getting old now, and as ruthless as he can be, he's always shown an odd fatherly affection to me.

Vince has three long-term girlfriends, but none of them have given him any children. They all now just live in their separate houses and entertain him whenever he demands it.

"Reaper," Vince calls me by the name I'm known by in the industry. I doubt many of the other guys who work with us even know what my given name is – and that's how it needs to stay.

"This fucker needs a reminder of why people don't ignore me when I warn them about things. I need you to go and give him a nudge to deliver my money and the products he was supposed to bring. I don't want him killed, though, but roughed up a bit is fine." He hands me a piece of paper with a name and address. I look it over and nod at him.

"Okay. I'll go now."

"Perfect. How is everything else going, my boy?"

"Fine. I've taken a bit of a break recently when it comes to private jobs, but I'm thinking of maybe buying that club downtown for some more passive income."

"Are they selling?"

"They've had some trouble lately with drugs, and they've attracted in some of the other crime families in the city by accident. I think they're getting scared and looking to hand over the problems to someone else."

Vince laughs. "I presume that you've offered to help them out by taking the place off their hands?"

"Not yet." I shake my head. "I just wanted to make sure that you were fine with it first."

"Have at it. The more businesses that are controlled by our family, the better." There are times when I can't understand what's going on in the old man's mind, but this statement makes perfect sense to me.

Another one of Vince's men walks in and I can see things getting tense, so I excuse myself before it gets ugly. I'm wearing new pants, and I really don't want to get blood all over them.

I leave Vince's house and head toward the address that he provided to me. I storm up to the front door and shoot both of the guards posted there before they can even say a word.

I slam the door open and yell the name of the contact. I hear him calling for his guards from down the hallway, and I race toward the sound.

I crash through the door into an office and swarm over the desk, grabbing the neck of the fat man behind it and slamming his head onto the desk.

"Do you know why I'm here?" I ask the sobbing man bent over underneath me. He nods.

"Vincenzo sent you." He's gulping for air, so I push his neck down further to make sure he gets the message.

"Smart man. So, you know what he wants from you?" He's crying loudly. I see a pool of blood under his nose, and there's the smell of urine in the room. I realize that the rat pissed his pants, and I wrinkle my nose.

I let go of him and step away, staring into his eyes as he straightens his back. I start humming a tune, letting him listen for a minute. Everyone knows that when I'm about to make a kill, I start humming a tune. It's always classical music, which is my favorite genre of music to listen to.

Humming helps me focus and makes it easy for me to clear my head so I can get to work. Anyone listening to me humming should feel their blood run cold.

"Next time I come here," I tell him. "You won't get a second chance. If you hear me humming again, your time is up."

I leave him to cry and get back in my car. I want to go check in on my nightclub, and I don't want to spend the rest of my night thinking about the smell of piss and fear.

***

The club is busy tonight, with way too many underage kids running around.

I really need to get the guys at the door to pay more attention to fake IDs. I keep an eye on things, trying to see where the trouble could come from.

So far, there's just a lot of half-dressed women and hungry-looking men flailing around the dance floor. The scene is boring.

I've spent my time in clubs like this, drinking until I could forget the horrors of my childhood. As I've gotten older, those memories don't haunt me quite as often as they used to.

These days, I much prefer quieter, calmer spaces to hang out in during my spare time. But there is no doubt this kind of venue makes money.

As I'm looking around, I see a pale man grab onto a stunning girl, and she looks angry and terrified at the same time. I watch her leave the club as he stumbles after her, and I have a feeling that she doesn't want him near her.

I get up slowly, walking to the door. Stopping just outside, I watch them and listen to her telling him to leave while he drunkenly tries to argue.

I'm dazed for a moment at how naturally beautiful she is. I can tell she hasn't had any work done yet, and her curves are drool-worthy. Her sleek hair stops just above her perky ass, and her face looks soft, but determined.

Once the grungy man in front of this woman grabs her arm, the rage inside me demands that I intervene. I reach them in a few strides, coming up behind the man silently.

It's probably not a good idea to hurt him too badly because I don't want a scene here tonight, so I decide I'll just scare him. Unless he tries to fight back, that is.

Gripping his neck, I almost laugh at how this scrawny man has the audacity to harass someone as beautiful as the girl in front of me. Does he truly think he is worthy of those emerald eyes and her curvy figure?

He puts up no fight when I throw him into a cab and send him on his way.

I leave the girl to get her own cab and go back to my drink, but she stops me as I'm walking in. I'm annoyed, not at her, but at the situation. She looks too young to be in this club, and she clearly can't take care of herself.

When she tries to explain who he is, I stop her because if this is some boyfriend that she keeps letting back in her life – just like my mother and stepfather – I really can't be bothered.

She stands her ground, not sulking like so many other girls her age would do. She is incredibly beautiful, and I have no doubt that she is aware of that fact. I can see a spark in those green eyes, and it intrigues me. But not enough to get sucked into whatever drama she's created for herself.

I turn my back on her and head over to the bar to check on some supplies and to make sure that my bartenders are keeping up with demand. I bend over to check on the supplies tucked under the bar.

"I want to thank you," a female voice says to me.

I look up over the edge of the bar. It's the underage girl with the pretty green eyes. She's followed me, and now she's still trying to thank me. I start to open my mouth to send her away, but the harsh words I had planned to say don't come out.

"You don't need to thank me," I tell her again. I feel trapped in her gaze. She's looking at me like she knows exactly what she's doing to me, and something about that makes me feel electric with desire all of a sudden.

"Even if I want to?" she says again, her tone flirtatious. She nips her lower teeth into her bottom lip and sways her hips back and forth a little bit.

My cock leaps to life and I suck in a breath. Something about this girl is making me dispose of all my common sense.

I should tell her to take her fake ID and go home, but I don't. Instead, I walk around the edge of the bar and take her slim hand in mine.

"Come on," I say to her, and pull her through a door at the end of the bar.