AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Christ, I need a beer. Fuck that, I need ten of them.
Entering the bar, I see it’s busy, and there’s hardly any seats available. All I want is to perch my ass and listen to the people around me, get a better understanding of the dynamics of Joe Ranieri and his men. The perfect way to do that is to listen to the drunk, over-the-top assholes who have nothing better to do than spend their evening in this bar and drink, then go home and argue with their wives.
Hours pass, and all I hear is how great of a man Joe Ranieri is. The man’s like a freaking saint. Not a bad word has been said about him, not even by the blithering drunks singing loudly and off tune.
The barman passes me another drink. Once I’ve finished this, I’m going to call it a night. There’s nothing else for me to do here.
My gaze drifts to the beautiful, tanned brunette sitting at a table with three other women. As if she can feel me watching her, she turns her head and gives me a shy smile, before returning to her conversation with her friends. The woman is gorgeous. She has long hair that falls in waves down her back, is petite, and from what I can tell, has a fantastic body. But I’m here on a job, not to fuck a random woman, no matter how much I’d like to.
Finishing the beer, I call it a night and make my way outside. The sidewalk is empty when I step out. It’s a little after midnight. There should be people milling about, this area is the place to be. There’s more bars and restaurants on this strip than anyother. Yet, there’s no one around. Something about this doesn’t sit right. My gut is going crazy.
I feel a hardness pushing into my back, I hear the snick of a gun being cocked, as I’m surrounded by three men. Fucking Russians.
“The boss doesn’t like you,” one of the men says, his accent heavy, his eyes narrowed as he gets into my face.
“Like I give a fuck. I don’t even know who your boss is.” As far as I recall, there was no Russian presence here in Denver. Hell, from what I heard, Ranieri and his men have full reign of the city.
“Nikolai Vasiliev,” he spits at me, his lips turned up in disgust.
It clicks. The man I saw with Yelena was Vasiliev, the head of the Russian Bratva in Texas. I laugh. God, what the fuck is that prick doing in Denver?
“Does Ranieri know he’s got Russians in his city?” I question with a raised brow as these fuckers move toward the alleyway. The gun in my back is lodged there, and I’m dying to get my hands on all three of these fuckers. “I’d say not. Imagine what he’ll do when he finds out not only did Nikolai enter his territory unannounced, but he also brought his men.”
The air around us intensifies. The three men’s stances change, and stupidly, the asshole behind me removes the gun from my back.
“You threaten us?” the asshole asks. It seems as though he’s the only one who can talk.
“Threaten?” I ask with a chuckle. “Me? Never. I’m just stating a fact.”
“Oh, and Ranieri knows an Italian bastard is in town?” the fucker from behind me says as he moves to my side. “Oh, don’t tell me, you’re in business together?”
I don’t answer. This is only going to go down one way. Someone is dying. I’m going to ensure it’s not me who loses their life tonight.
I whip out my knife from its sheath at my side and stab it into the asshole who held a gun to me. It sinks into the flesh just below his ribs on his left side. Before he can react, I pull it out and sink it into his chest.
“Sukin,” one rages.
I dodge the fist aiming for my face, just as I pull my knife out of the first Russian cunt’s chest. Blood spurts everywhere, and he drops to the floor. One down, two to go.
Both men advance on me, and I know I need to take out the stronger of the two first. I kick my foot out and connect with the smaller guy’s kneecap, causing him to drop to the ground and I fight back the urge to groan. Something sharp slides into my side, and pain erupts from it. I grit my teeth and push through it. I’m still outnumbered and need to end these cunts lives before they take me out.
I slice my knife across the taller guy's face, and he steps back, his hands reaching up to block my next attack. I advance on him, and just as with the first fucker, I drive my knife into his chest, right where the bastard’s heart should be. His eyes widen, and he gasps.
I don’t stop. Fuck no. I’ve seen the movies. These fuckers are practically invincible. They always seem to come back to life. The moment he drops to the floor, I slide my knife along his throat, opening it up and letting him bleed out.
A war cry sounds from behind me. Before I’m able to react, a gun sounds and white hot pain slices through me. Fuck. The cunt shot me.
Within seconds, the bastard is on me, pushing me to the ground. His hands wrap around my neck. Fuck no. Does this bastard think I’m going to go this easily? Jesus, he’s never beenaround an Italian. We’re stubborn, ruthless, and in this life, killers.
I draw my head back and bring it forward. My forehead connects with his nose with a satisfying crunch. He loosens his hold on my neck, and I push him off me and flip us over. My anger is palpable as I lay into him. Punch after punch, blow after blow, all to his head. Within minutes, the fucker is limp on the ground with his head caved in.
I get to my feet, wincing as the pain from my side hits me. Putting my hand to the wound, all I feel is wetness. Fuck, I’m bleeding. I stagger toward the alleyway entrance, toward the bright lights of the street, and that’s when I see the gorgeous brunette from the bar, looking like a fucking angel, standing there. Her eyes are wide as she takes in my bloodied state, before her gaze moves behind me, to the three dead men on the ground.
She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t cry. She just stays still.
I’m confused. Any sane person would have either screamed their head off or ran, but not her. No, she's staring at me with a blank expression on her face.
I continue to stagger toward her. My head begins spinning as dizziness hits me, and weakness floods my limbs.
