1
Alaric
"Please, man. I'm fucking begging you. All I need is a few more days. Can't you just tell your boss that?"
"You had days." I cock the gun I have aimed at him. "You had weeks. Months. It's over."
"Don't do this." The man runs his fingers through his graying hair, and I watch him impassively. All I have left to do is pull the trigger because nothing he says will change my mind. "Please, man, fuck! Don't fucking shoot or—"
I don't let him finish his sentence. I fire the gun and watch the bullet bury itself between his eyes. Blood spurts from what used to be his head and soils the dark alleyway. I'm not cleaning up this mess. This is a shitty part of town, so no one's going to give a damn anyway.
Kneeling next to the body, I take his wallet and phone. No one will suspect foul play because I’ve made it look like a robbery.
I throw one last look at what's left of Daniel Newman. He’s had this coming for a long fucking time now. The person who ordered this hit has been trying to get his money back for years. Nobody will miss Daniel, either. Being single with no kids, he’s left no mark on this sick, twisted world.
I pocket the wallet and phone and head around the back alley with my gun tucked in the back of my pants. This particular alley does not contain security cameras, which makes it the perfect place for a hit. I've never been here before, but my curiosity is piqued as I round the corner and watch a group of barely legal girls in bondage gear enter the club.
It's been a few days since I got my cock sucked, and I'm itching for a willing victim to bury myself in. Maybe I can stick around for a while longer and see what Purgatory has to offer. Judging by the bait outside, I'll find exactly what I'm looking for.
Ignoring the long queue in front of the club, I cut to the front and smirk at one of the thugs guarding the entrance.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he snarls at me. But all it takes to change his scornful look is one flash of the red ribbon tied around my wrist. He knows what it means. I work for the Lombardi family.
Clearing his throat, the goon steps aside and allows me to pass. I walk inside the darkness, parting the red velvet curtains to enter Purgatory.
The excitement in this place is fucking palpable. Girls are dancing in cages, and people mill about, eyeing each other. At least a dozen people wait in front of the bar to get an order in. Ignoring all of them, I push my way into their midst, my eyes searching for someone who knows how to mix a halfway decent drink.
When I see her for the first time, my reaction is instantaneous. My cock jumps to attention like it wants to fucking salute her. Straining against the fabric of my black pants, I can feel the precum leaking out of my tip like a goddamn faucet.
Her honey-blond hair falls off her shoulders in loose waves, and I have the urge to run my fingers through her locks so I can figure out if it feels as soft as it looks.
"An old-fashioned," I request loud and clear. The sexy little vixen working the bar raises her baby blue eyes to mine, and I do nothing to hide the fact I'm fucking devouring her with my gaze.
"Coming right up," she says, giving me a nod. I watch her mix the drink. She knows what she's doing, and my cock grows more, straining against my pants painfully. She presents me with the drink and holds out her hand for my credit card. Smirking, I hand her my black Amex and watch her swipe it without reacting. When she hands it back, I wrap my hand around her wrist, holding her in place. Even over the music playing, I can hear her sharp intake of breath.
"Take a break," I mutter, loud enough for just us to hear. "Meet me out back in five. I'm going for a cigarette."
"I..." Her eyes bore into mine. I don't wait for her answer before taking my glass and walking outside into the smokers’ area. Standing beside the two guys making out and the one lone wolf thoughtfully smoking a cigarette, I pull out my own pack and light the stick of poison, inhaling the smoke.
That's the fucking shit. Nothing feels as good as the first inhale after a goddamn kill.
"You wanted to see me?"
I lift my eyes slowly, lazily, until they meet the waitress’s from the bar. I give myself ample time, allowing my gaze to drink her in. Every curve, every strand of light hair is instantly committed to memory. She's fucking sex on legs with a tight little waist, big tits, and an ass I want to palm over the fabric of her little black excuse for a dress.
"Why'd you come?" I ask, putting out my cigarette. She takes a step closer, drinking me in. She seems observant enough. Yet it fucking amuses me to no end that she hasn't noticed she's talking to a fucking monster.
"I was due for a break," she says. "Thought I'd get some fresh air."
"In the smokers' lounge?" I smirk. "Sure, sugar."
She blinks rapidly at the nickname, and a smile tugs on the corners of her lips. "Maybe I'm a smoker too."
"You're not." I laugh.
"How do you know?"
"You seem too smart to be a smoker," I mutter, pulling back from the wall. "You want to make some money?"