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“You’re on your own, baby. If you were smart, you’d get far away from that fucking psycho.” Then he got in his car and burned rubber getting to the main street, leaving her in his exhaust. She stood in the same spot for the longest time, the sound of dripping and an empty bottle toppling sending a shiver of unease up her spine.
She wasn’t sure what she should do next. Go home? Find her way back to Chains’s basement? Now that she had her freedom, her thoughts cleared. Maybe she had Stockholm Syndrome, and Chains was nothing like she’d made him out to be. This was her chance to be free, outside, no rules but her own.
Tears began to fill her eyes. She didn’t want to make a choice, wasn’t sure what she should feel. Lori was a damn mess.
****
Chains wanted to spend his time with Lori playing house, but he was still on the payroll at Killer of Kings. Boss liked him to be his driver whenever there could be trouble. He knew Chains could handle anything if shit went down. Tonight, Boss wanted to send a personal warning to a new family moving in on the city. They’d been going after a lot of the same contracts, which was fine, but when they tried to get in the way of Boss’s men, the game changed. After Boss said his piece, Chains needed to send a message to their crew. At least one of them would be sporting a body bag tonight.
Killing was no harder than breathing to Chains. He’d been doing it since puberty, so it was natural … nothing personal. People asked him if he ever felt sorry for his victims or their families, but in truth, he didn’t. He wasn’t sure what the fuck that meant, but he preferred not to think about it. The orphanage, and later the streets, in Russia had made him what he is today, so he refused to take blame for the monster he’d become.
“About time.” Boss got in the back of Chain’s car. “You have the address I sent?”
“We’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.”
Boss leaned back against the custom leather seats. Since Chains did most of Boss’s driving these days, he’d been set up with the very best. “This shouldn’t take long. I have a date tonight, so I don’t plan on humoring these assholes.”
“Anything serious?”
Boss scoffed. “As serious as pussy can be.”
Chains didn’t say anything. Only a couple weeks ago he felt the exact same way. He’d fuck different bitches every night. He didn’t want to know their names or see them more than once.
Then came Lori.
All he could think about was the softness of her lips and gentle touch of her hands. She was nothing like the women he’d been with. Lori was pure innocence, damaged and vulnerable. The only pussy he could think about was the sweet virgin one locked up in his basement. And he didn’t mind waiting.
He’d planned to get more domestic, keep her with him in his bedroom at night. But this gig with Boss threw a wrench in his plans, and he couldn’t risk her running off. Because then he’d have to chase. She was his, and he wouldn’t let her go.
The city lights cast out the darkness until they hit the suburbs. They pulled up to the address, but Chains went around back, parking on the street. The entire time he’d taken in the area to memory. His body was fully strapped, and his trunk had a small arsenal. Boss always had men from Killer of Kings on speed dial. If shit went ugly, Viper, Bain, or Killian would be on top of things in a hurry. There were dozens of other men on Boss’s payroll, depending on the are
a.
He shut off the engine. “You have a contact?” he asked.
“You know how much I like to show up unexpected,” said Boss. The asshole lived for the kill. Chains didn’t need to ask if he was packing heat. The man was born ready.
Chains exited the vehicle, looking up and down the street. He reached inside his black leather jacket, feeling the handles of all his guns. Boss had custom holsters made for him, so Chains was a one-man army, and skilled with every kind of weapon. He didn’t care how many fuckers he was numbered against because he was confident in his ability to clear a room.
They walked across the street and then up the sidewalk, Boss a few feet behind him. The man was his boss, but Chains trusted and respected him. He’d helped him make a new life far from his miserable homeland. And he knew Boss had a soft spot for him, even if he didn’t say it out loud.
“This the place?” he asked, not turning around.
“Keep going. It’s eleven o’clock, so they’ll be playing cards in the guest house.”
Chains kept walking, keeping on guard. As Boss said, the windows of the guesthouse out back were warm with light. The neighborhood was dark and remote, not much outdoor lighting at the side of the house.
His adrenaline started to kick in after they hopped the low iron fence. It had been a while since he’d been on a job with Boss. The last man he’d killed had been a quick contract that he handled in less than an hour.
Boss waited safely on the periphery while Chains kicked in the door. There were six men at a round table, three on a sofa, and two standing near a small bar.
He pulled out two Glocks, aiming them in outstretched arms. “No one fucking move.”
Of course, some of them didn’t seem to understand the simple instructions. They probably had huge balls considering it was eleven to one. Chains popped the kneecaps of the two guys reaching for their handguns, and nailed another in the hand. Everything happened so fast, they didn’t have time to process the invasion.
“Don’t think about it,” he said to the fat guy on the couch. When he had their attention, Boss strolled in the room. One of the men at the table must have recognized the infamous Killer of Kings founder and stood up, his chair scraping the tiles. Chains shot him between the eyes. His body crashed down, and the table tipped with him, cards and chips scattering.
“Excuse the intrusion,” said Boss, stepping over the mess. “It’s come to my attention you’re giving my men a hard time. That doesn’t sit well with me. If you’re not aware that I own this fucking city, then let this be your wake-up call. I’m good at minding my own business, but when you step on my toes, that’s when we have a problem.” Boss directed his attention to the older man at the table, so Chains assumed that was their ringleader. He was smoking a cigar, holding it in his fingers now that the table was overturned along with his ashtray. “Someone upright the fucking table.”
