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A loud bang sounds throughout the alleyway, and the man’s head explodes against the plastic dumpster. Bits and pieces of him fly everywhere. Some even hit my building. I’m frozen in place, breathing heavily as I try to understand what just happened.
That man–Dimitri–was in the alley. Now he's dead. There’s a dead man in my alley, behind my store.
The gunman clears his throat, putting his gun into a holster on his belt. He takes a few steps toward me, with his arm outstretched. He’s talking, but my ears are ringing, so I can’t hear him. My mouth is dry, making it impossible to scream for help.
If he shot that man, what’s to stop him from hurting me? I’m all Ani has….
He keeps advancing on me, step by step. My body finally unlocks, and I bolt, running back into my bakery. I’m a few feet away from the door that separates the front of the shop from the back area. My heart is hammering as I think of the worst case scenario.Never getting to see my girl again…her being alone, without me…My hand closes over the doorknob, but before I can open the door, I feel strong arms wrap around me and haul me backward.
“Slow down, my runner. We have a few things to talk about.”
Two
Tomas
My next victim kicks and claws against my hold in an attempt to free himself from his fate. I ignore his feeble attempts and drag him from the front of the shop back toward the alley. This part is always exhausting. Not because of the physical demand it takes to restrain a fighter. No, that’s nothing for me anymore. Not when I do it daily. Years of practice, training, and experience make it simple to subdue a clawing wannabe tiger.
It’s draining because of the screams, the false hope they have that they’ll get free, and the denial that this is the end. It makes people do some stupid shit. Like cry, or offer sex for their life. Or beg. Dimitri begged. As if I could have mercy on lying sacks of shit who forget to clear their debt with the Bratva.
I don’t make the decisions, I only follow through on the order of the Brotherhood. If they require your death, then death is what you’ll get.
By my hands.
Dimitri was no exception. He owed, he didn’t pay, I took his life. The only little hiccup is the green-eyed firefly now in my clutches. The answer should be simple.Kill him.But those pretty little lips seem to be my downfall. He caught my curiosity when he stepped out of the back of a shop muttering about trash pandas. His sweet innocence was so evident in the way he stared at me with horror that I couldn’t do what needed to be done.
He has a wholesome quality I want to strip from him. The thought of those O-shaped lips stretching around the thickness of my cock is clouding my judgment. I desperately need to feel the clamping of his throat while I shove so deep inside of his hot mouth that he’s choking and begging me for the same mercy that Dimitri had.
I’d give it to him. I’d give my altruism, but only if he earned it. The difference between the two men? One is an innocent, and the other a sinner.
I know that there will be consequences for keeping him alive. But something deep inside me refuses to see him dead. I’ll pay the price for sparing him, and that makes me want to puke. I shove it down, deep inside of me. Assassins don’t vomit because of anxiety. We bottle that shit up and pull the fucking trigger.
“Ani. I need to get home to Ani,” my little runner says, his hands trying to claw at my face.
I ignore him, shoving him through the door he came out of. A sweet sugary scent fills my nostrils when the heavy metal bangs shut. I press my nose into his hair, inhale the sweet scent, and let out a sigh of satisfaction. He smells like pure innocence. This man has probably never seen the bad in this horrible world. He’s probably never witnessed someone being harmed or even fallen victim to a crime himself.
And that’s saying something when we’re currently sitting in one of the worst areas in the Bronx. When I’ve made it through a hallway, I release my catch of the evening. He falls before me on his knees, and peers up with precious green irises that remind me of the promise of spring. His smooth-shaven face has deep dimples and a cut jawline. His blond hair is tied in a low bun. He’s an angel, even if he has no wings and isn’t smiling.
Christmas music plays from a stereo, and I glance around to see the tiny area of a bakery. The cases are filled with cookies, cakes, loaves, and a variety of sweet desserts. None of them look like the Russian sweets I grew up with. A whimper tears through the silence, and I focus on my little baker again.
A look of sheer terror fills his cherubic face. His fear is so…beautiful. So real. Something inside me shifts as he babbles, trying to save himself.
“Ani. I can’t leave her. Please. I need to get home. I promise. I promise I won’t say anything. I don’t know you. Just let me go home. Please. I’ll do anything.Anything. Let me go. Ani, Ani, Ani…” The name leaves his lips over and over in a soft whisper, a mantra to keep him going, no doubt.
I’m not sure who this Ani is, but I’ve decided she’s dead. I’ll find her and off her.He’s mine.I don’t share.
Mine.
I push aside that possessive thought with a slight shake of my head.Clean this mess up and get the fuck out of here.I pull out my phone and send a text for a clean-up crew to get rid of the corpse in the alley.
“Please,” he continues, frantic sobs pulling from his chest.
He’s so pretty when he cries, and that makes my dick throb with the yearning desire to shove his mouth full of me.
“What do you want? I don’t have much. I’m barely making ends meet. But I’ll give you anything.” He interrupts my dirty thoughts with more crying.
What a dangerous proposition to make to a man like me. He’ll give meanything? I can think of a few things I would take from him, the first being his moans and groans of pleasure when I eventually bend him over the counter and take his sweet ass.All in good time.
“Shh,” I croon. I reach for his chin and tug his gaze toward me. “What is your name?”
