6. FRANKIE

I knew there was something wrong when I was told I had to go up to Fairhill. That was out of our territory. Everything in that area was through the Irish mob. This fight didn't start in Fairhill, but whoever decided to take it there must've thought they were being slick.

I had the exact location of the warehouse where these drugs had been taken to, and the people who'd killed our men.

Parked up across the street in the parking lot of a local convenience store, I had a great view, but I stuck out like a sore thumb in my BMW. This wasn't the type of neighborhood you wanted to be caught driving anything without dings or paint scratches in your car.

Thankfully it was dark, and the only people who saw the car were people heading into the store. I kept an eye on both things. People coming in and out, and the warehouse. This was a delicate matter now that they'd brought us down to Irish mob territory, it could create an all-out war if I was caught.

I also tried keeping an eye on Cal's webcam stream. That was his emotional outlet, and I liked seeing him express himself like that, but only because it meant that once I got home, he was being bent over the bed and his face pressed into those sheets.

The lights in the warehouse went off. Three people left the building and got into a parked van. This was my in. I waited until they drove off before I got out of my car. I had everything I needed on me, and if weapons didn't work, I had two God-given weapons in the form of fists that would take me where I needed to go.

After fifteen minutes, I approached the warehouse. It was a small building with frosted glass and vent holes at the top of the walls. On the main wall, there were two metal roller doors. One for vehicles and the other for people, I guessed. And right at the other end of those, there was a nice blue door.

I didn't hear anyone inside, not even the mechanical whir of the air conditioning units. In my stomach, I knew going in through a door was a bad call. It felt like I was walking into an ambush.

Around the back of the building was a large trash can and a pair of pull-down ladders to the roof. I did everything as quietly and with as much caution as possible. Climbing on the can, then reaching up and tugging those rusted ladders down. They came down with ease after that.

I knew warehouses like this. I'd broken into many of them, never to get what was inside, but to kill everyone. I figured it was going to be no different this time.

On the roof, there was the air conditioning unit. There was no chugging groan from it, like I expected from one in a state like this. It solidified the thought that they must've turned it off, they were trying to hear me coming. They'd have to try harder.

The thing about roofs like this, there was always a door. It might not have been a physical door with stairs, but there was always a way in from here. I tiptoed, trying not to make sound as I searched for a hatch. And there it was, the cleanest square on the entire roof.

"They're really making me work for this today," I said, rolling my head on my neck until it cracked. "In and out. It's simple." Before Cal, I would've probably gone in through the front door gun in hand shooting at anything that moved, but since he came into my life, I took extra cautionary steps not to get myself hurt. And that didn't always work.

The hatch on the roof opened with ease, this was what they'd been using. Those rusty ladders didn't seem to have had much action.

From the hatch, it was a drop straight down to the floor.

There was rustling like a bag of chips being opened. I listened and waited for it to stop. It affirmed my suspicions that there were people down there. Closing my eyes, I tried to see if there were any voices amongst the plastic rustling.

"What's taking so long?" I heard in the distance.

I wanted to answer for them, but I kept quiet.

A single drop from this height wouldn't have done any permanent damage, at least not if I landed properly. And from where it was, I assumed it was far enough that they wouldn't be able to hear me land. Stealth was a skill, but I wasn't some gymnastic cat burglar who could do somersaults and land in a perfect footing.

It was possible I could twist or sprain an ankle. "Fuck off," I grumbled to myself. This wasn't the time or place to have those thoughts. It was in Cal's voice, telling me to be careful.

I lowered my body into the hole, holding myself up on the roof with my arms. I was quick, dropping to my feet as soon as I was in position. I landed with a small thud against the concrete. The balls on my feet ached, but painless, and nobody saw.

There were shelves lined up around me, almost keeping me hidden. That was lucky.

The voices inside the warehouse were louder now.

"Call the boss."

"Ask if he's still out there?"

There must've been three or four distinct voices. I took my gun out and twisted on the silencer. Keeping low and using the shelves and boxes as cover, I got closer to the voices.

The crinkle of the chip bag sounded again. "We were told he'd be coming."

"I think he's got more brains than that."

"Stop fucking eating." The chip bag rustled a final time.

I spotted them. There were four of them, each by the wall where the entry points of the building were. They each had a gun, two of them held theirs while the other two kept theirs holstered.

I rolled my neck once more. It cracked.

"What was that?"

"You're being paranoid."

"What if he's already in here?"

"Yeah, well, we'd already be dead."

"I heard that if he catches you, he shoots you between your eyes, pulls out the slug from your brain, and then dissolves your body in acid."

I'd heard them all before. I was the boogeyman to some people. I'd never dissolved a body. I'd thrown acid at someone, but that was their acid they were using, and if I hadn't done it to them, they might've done it to me.

"Nah," one of them said, clicking his tongue. "You've got me here believing that Paolo would send one of his own sons. And we're supposed to believe that he'd risk leaving their territory."

The argument was solid, I'd kill them last.

"It's all your fucking fault anyway, you're the one who thought it would be a good idea to take the coke!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Maybe I should've waited outside the door and put four bullets through it. Although I might've only hit two of them, it would've saved me the effort of climbing on the roof.

"Great. Why are we doing this anyway?"

"Because there's a million shared four ways if we do it."

That was a blow to my ego. My life was only worth a million dollars.

I quickly grew tired of listening to them. I wasn't aiming for clean kills. There's was something much bigger happening here, and dead men don't talk.

In rapid succession, I shot at each of the men, gravely wounding them in their arms, legs, and torsos.

As their bodies laid begging for mercy on the floor, I walked over to them, a big smile on my face. I wasn't going to be getting a million dollars for this, but I did feel a state of euphoria.

"Help," their words muffled by the blood filling up their throats.

"Who set me up?" I asked. "First one to speak might live."

I'd labelled them by number. One was twitching, spitting up blood. Two was crying, trying to reach for the gun at his waist. Three was laid out looking at the ceiling, the remnants of his bloodied hand trying to compress the bullet in his chest. And Four was almost trying to drag himself along the ground, leaving a blood trail behind himself.

"We don't—we don't know," Three groaned.

I stood on the back of Four's leg, keeping him from moving any further. "It's a simple fucking question," I said. "Who do you work for? How did they know I was coming? And oh, yeah, who the fuck was going to pay you a million dollars?"

"Please, we don't know," Four screamed. "We—we were just hired. It was a—a private contract. All—all we saw where men—men in black masks."

Assessing each of them, One was almost dead. I put a bullet in his head to speed up the process. "Now, you tried to set me up. I wanna know who. And I wanna know why?" A smirk crossed my face. "The why actually might be obvious," I chuckled. "I take it there's no drugs here either." At least there hadn't been on my limited walk through the place.

"It's someone from New York," Two sputtered. "Or New Jersey. We didn't get a name. Our boss got told that—" he choked on blood. "We had to wait in here. You were going to come in through the door. We'd—we'd—"

"Come on, Two," I said, kicking his hand's weak attempt at touching his gun. "More details. You're getting blood on my shoes."

"We didn't get a name," Three said. "All we know is we had to be here, we—we had to shoot you, but they wanted you alive."

"He's coming back at midnight," Four said.

"Well then, I'll make this quick." I shot each of them in the head. Finally, there was peace. I looked around the warehouse, but there were no drugs, and nothing worth five million. Someone had fed my father bad intel, and there was only one motherfucker I knew who could do that. My uncle Vito.

Before leaving the warehouse, I grabbed a rag and cleaned off the blood on my shoes.

I stuck around until midnight.

Nobody showed up.

Intermittently checking my phone, I noticed missed texts from Cal. He said he'd found a lead, and minutes later, he'd told me that it was a false alarm.

As soon as the clock ticked over midnight. I anticipated a strike. But nobody showed up to see the Jackson Pollock painting I'd made with blood. So, I left. I didn't like staying in Irish mob territory. The longer I stayed, the more chance of things getting fucked up.

On the drive back to the apartment, I called my father.

He was awake. He was always awake.

"Frankie," he answered. "I'm hoping everything went as planned."

"Bad intel," I said, not telling him the full truth. "There were no drugs. Just a hideout for a gang. Don't worry, they weren't linked to the Irish."

"Ok, son. Well, I'm disappointed. But I'll make sure Vito knows."

"Good. Talk tomorrow."

Even my father wasn't trying to take credit for this. It almost solidified what I already knew, Uncle Vito couldn't be trusted.

Once I was back at the apartment, I found Cal still in front of the webcam, his crop top and denim cutoffs were both on the floor. His briefs pulled tight between his cheeks, forcing his cock to bulge in the front.

I watched him from the bedroom doorway as I started to undress out of my suit. There was a little bit of blood on the cuff of my shirt. I made sure that went into the pile to be taken for laundry. The family had a trusted cleaner who made sure to get blood out and keep the shirts a brilliant white.

Cal let out a moan, looking at me. "Looks like I'll have to go now. Thank you for playing." He tapped away on the keys and then closed the laptop.

"Have fun?" I asked him, folding my clothes up and placing them on top of the dresser. "I'm not at all jealous." I stood, naked from the waist up. "Now, you know the payment." I placed my gun on top of the clothes before pulling at my belt.

He pulled away the mask and chewed on his bottom lip. "You took your time," he said. "I thought I was actually going to have to masturbate for them." He climbed off the bed, grabbing at his crotch. "I'm not even hard."

I snapped my fingers. "Then get over here. And I can sort you out."

On his knees, Cal unzipped my slacks. He smacked his lips before going in to give me head. I leaned back against the bedroom wall and allowed myself to relax into the sensation his body knew to bring me. It was only him that could do this to me.

Rock solid, jamming my cock down his throat, he begged for more.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him away from my cock. "You find anything else tonight?" I asked.

"Just a couple of dead ends," he said, sticking his tongue out. "You can help me look at the data tomorrow."

With my hand on his head, I guided him to the bed. I'd made him a promise earlier, and my dick was ready to keep our end of that agreement. "That means you've gotta sleep tonight," I said, pushing him over the bed. "And I don't want to wake up tomorrow seeing you've gone to sleep with your cell in your hand. But you can definitely fall asleep with my cock in your hands." I got down on my knees.

"I promise," he said, pushing his ass into my face.

I gave his ass cheek a little bite. "Good." I gave his other cheek a bite to make it even. "You gonna be a good boy?"

"Yes," he moaned, stretching himself out to try and arch his back. "I promise."

Spreading his cheeks, I gave his shaved pink hole a kiss. He'd been waiting all night for this, playing online. And now, I was ready to claim my prize. I spat on his hole and pressed a finger inside.

I didn't waste any more time before pressing the tip of my cock against his hole and easing myself into him. He moaned a little more, dragging at the sheet on the bed into his palms.

Slow thrusts had him moaning the loudest. It was music to my ears. I reached out and grabbed the toy he had left out. It was a thick vibrating silicone dildo, white-gray in color with holographic sparkles.

"I forgot, I—" he started as I took the toy.

On the highest vibration setting, I placed it against his taint. It vibrated my cock inside him.

He started doing most of the work, moving back and forth on my cock, moaning.

I squeezed a hand against his hip to keep him still as the vibration on his taint continued to drive him crazy. "Just—" I paused, feeling my stomach tense. I shot my load inside him. The tip of my cock throbbing in him like it was trying to swell and stay there.

"I made a mess," he whispered.

He always made a mess, and he always told me about it in the sweetest way. This was one mess I didn't mind cleaning up afterwards. I pulled out, stretching along his back and leaving little kisses along his skin. "It's ok, baby."