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TJ
Chicago
Istared at the man I’d been hired to kill. I could take him out easily from my vantage point on the fire escape of an abandoned building. I was wearing black, and it was dark, but if he really looked, he’d be able to see me. People rarely looked up. That was one thing I’d learned since my father pushed me into the role of family hitman.
I hesitated, not because I worried about getting caught. It wasn’t like the police gave a damn what happened in this neighborhood.
I didn’t take the shot because the man was talking to my cousin Franco. They were laughing like old friends, yet it had been my cousin who’d convinced my father this man was our enemy. Something wasn’t right, and I was going to figure out exactly what it was.
I watched them, thinking about how easy it would be to focus my scope on Franco and take him out instead. A single shot to the head would easily do it.
His overconfidence sickened me. He knew I was following my mark. He knew I was likely lurking somewhere, planning my shot, but he either thought I was too stupid or too cowardly to eliminate my father’s favorite nephew, a man who wanted my father’s position as head of the family.
I was neither.
I also wasn’t going to sit around waiting for a more opportune time to take out the son of a bitch Franco was talking to. The man was known for using children in his pharmaceutical operations. Eliminating him was a service to the community.
I got into position, set up the shot, and ended the man. I smiled when his blood splattered all over my cousin’s face.
“What the fuck?” Franco yelled. “Reaper!”
That’s what everyone in my family called me. I was nothing more than a killer who was brought in to do a job most lacked the skill or the stomach for. I wasn’t really a person to most of them. Sometimes that was an advantage.
I fired another shot. The bullet came so close to my cousin’s head I’m sure his hair ruffled from the breeze. He stepped back, moving into an alcove. I watched as he frantically tried to pinpoint my location. I fucking loved how scared he was.
I longed to take another shot and make it count, but I needed to know what game Franco was playing. Killing him would leave me with other enemies in the family, ones I couldn’t yet identify. If I was going to bring Franco down, I wanted all his conspirators to go down with him.
I stepped out of the shadows and walked right up to my cousin as he stood there, still covered in blood. “Don’t get in my way when I’ve been ordered to make a kill.”
“You fucker. I didn’t mean for you to kill him when I was standing next to him.”
“I take orders from my father, not you. He told me to get the job done tonight.”
Franco sneered. “I’m going to tell him exactly what happened.”
He was such a little brat. “Please do. I hope you also explain why you were looking so cozy with the son of a bitch.”
I saw a tiny flash of fear before Franco’s haughty mask fell into place again. “I was pumping him for info.”
I shook my head. “No. If you’d wanted to do that, you would have asked my father to delay eliminating him.”
Before Franco could respond, I nudged the corpse with my foot. “Get this—and yourself—cleaned up.”
“It’s your kill. Take care of it yourself.”
I turned to go. “I’m the executioner, not your cleanup crew. My job is done. I’d hurry if I were you. You never know who might have heard the shots.”
Franco huffed. “In this neighborhood?”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “I could always call the police myself.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and pressed nine, then one.
Franco took a step toward me. “You wouldn’t.”
I had my gun trained on him so fast he probably didn’t register me moving.
“Your father will have you hunted down and killed very slowly if you harm me.”
