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Prologue
“Getthefuckouttahere!” the bouncer yells, his Boston accent thick as I’m tossed onto the street.
My body hits the concrete with force, and I groan at the pain in my wrist. The door to the bar closes with a thud, echoing through the street. This time of day, everyone’s at work. Attempting to stand and right myself, I stumble instead. I drank too much, and now, my entire body is useless.
This will hurt tomorrow.
It will be worth it, not to feel the pain now.
Not to see the face of my lost girl, the dead eyes staring back at me as I pulled her from the bloody water. I was only a kid and had already seen so much death. But hers had been the worst. Hers had actually mattered.
“Killing her without trying her out would be a shame,” a man says, his Russian accent thick.
His voice comes from the alleyway, and I turn to figure out what he’s talking about. I half expect him to be toppling over a woman, but all I see are two men dressed in black with their hoods up. There’s no one else in the alley with them. And in the afternoon light, I’m able to take in the scar on the right side of one’s face.
“We have to be quick. There’s a panic button, and if she activates it, we’re fucked,” one of them says.
“Still. If we catch her by surprise, she won’t be able to press any buttons. Just seems to be wasteful. I haven’t gotten laid in weeks, man. The old lady’s pissed at me.”
The scarless one snorts, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground. He snuffs it with the heel of his boot. “That’s what happens when you’re a cheating bastard. Wanna add rapist to the list too?”
The one with the scar shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
The other one laughs. “Fine. We should get going. Gotta make it quick.”
I move to make myself known, grunting loud enough that they’ll know they aren’t alone. I may not be a good guy. Hell, I know I’m a dark monster. But raping and murdering women is where I draw the line. And if I can stop it, I will. I’m not carrying a firearm today. I had business this morning in the police station, and the last thing I need is to be caught with an unregistered weapon. My fists will have to do.
“What’s up, fuckers?” I ask, a sly grin on my face. I’m sure my words come out slurred, but they have the desired effect.
Both heads swivel toward me. Recognition hits the one with the scar. His eyes pop as he takes in the sight of me. “Declan Murphy in Russian territory?” he chuckles, rubbing his hands together. “We just hit the lotto, Dinetto.”
I hum, excited to get what I fucking came here for. I’ve been brewing for a fight since the second I stepped into the bar.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Irish fuck.”
“Bring it, old man.” I grin sardonically.
A fist flies toward my face. I’m slow because of the alcohol I consumed but dodge it.
The fists continue to fly until one of them connects with my jaw. I fall on my ass, laughing as I savor the pain. Yes, this is what I wanted. One of them towers over me, grabs my shirt by the collar, and he pounds into me over and over.
Blood pours down my face, the taste of copper on the tip of my tongue. My head pounds, until finally scar man is pulled off me.
“Get off him,” someone mutters. I recognize that voice. It belongs to Ivan Novikoff. He’s from Miami, though I’m sure he’s here on some type of business with the Boston Bratva.
It would be my luck that he’s here now, preventing me from taking the brutal beating I deserve.
My vision blurs from the hits, and I’m sure an eye is swollen shut. The adrenaline courses through me, despite having my ass handed to me. A gun cocks, the sound drawing my attention as it’s pressed to someone’s forehead. “Get out of here before I tell the Pahkan what you’ve done.”
The two men hurry out of the alley, leaving me alone with my savior. “Jesus, Declan.” He towers over me. I grin, glancing at the blurry figure in front of me. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I’m lifted, my arm wrapping around his neck. He grunts. “You’re fucking heavy, man.”
“Should have let them kill me,” I murmur.
My chest tightens, a lead balloon inflating inside of me. I didn’t stop them from hurting her. Whoever she is.
Chapter One
