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CHAPTER1
Blade
I’m a bad, bad man. Or so everyone tells me. They also insinuate that I have no conscience, able to perform the most horrific deeds without blinking. Yeah, I’ve killed a couple of people while doing my job, all enemy targets, men who attempted to crush the lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to and the man responsible for providing such a glorious fucking life.
Wealth, women, and wine.
All the finer things in life. At least that’s what I’d been indoctrinated into all those years ago. I’d been a stupid kid then, vulnerable to all three and I’d partaken in scandalous acts, enjoying the hell out of myself.
Until recently.
Why? Living the lie had finally taken a toll. I’d paid my debt long ago, but there’d been no release from my prison of choice. I hated what I’d become, nothing more than a hired gun. My reputation was bigger than my acts, but in Miami and around dangerous men, reputation was everything. Was I a cold-blooded killer? In my heart, the answer was no, but I allowed everyone to think that way in order to stay alive.
“Mi amigo, you’ve finally arrived.” Opening his arms wide, he waited until I moved closer, giving the traditional Sanchez hug, one hand gripped in a firm handshake.
Only there was nothing traditional about the man or his organization. Diego Sanchez was ruthless, powerful, wealthy, and sought after by both men and women alike. His hold over Miami, as well as the surrounding areas, was legendary.
The bloodbaths following his reign of terror—notorious.
His hold over me? Forever. That part of the payback hadn’t been thoroughly explained. Then again, I’d reacted on emotion. A stupid kid believing he could save his family.
“Sorry to be late, Diego. I had some business to attend to.” My business had been to clean up after the man himself, a particularly violent night of passion. Perhaps I’d grown weary of being a glorified babysitter as well, but I’d continue to play the part. After all, I appreciated breathing.
As I leaned in, his whisper was direct and clear, his command without question.
“Tomorrow I will need your assistance,mi amigo. Casablanca Casino.”
I didn’t need any further instructions or even an address. I’d been through this before, many times. I was Diego’s bodyguard as well as his confidant. I was also his assassin. His affinity for gambling was well known, and in my opinion far too much so. Diego had an increasing number of enemies, men hungering to be in his position. Any weakness was a deadly opening to overthrow the empire built from the blood and sweat of others. My boss considered himself a kingpin, a man of honor. Stomaching the concept was becoming increasingly more difficult.
“Of course,El Hefe.” I was the only one allowed to use the term and I did so sparingly, but tonight was a celebration of sorts and I knew he’d be in excellent spirits.
Letting me go, Diego burst into laughter, slapping me on the back. “You always amuse me, Erik. I appreciate that more than you know. Grab a drink, maybe two. I’ve made certain there are menu items especially for you. I think you’ll find them particularly tasty.”
Menu items. He talked about the party girls he accumulated as if he was preparing for a feast. Granted, there would an orgy later, bodies intertwined, more pussies and cocks than I cared to see at one time. I glanced around the room, surveying the various members of the Sanchez ‘family,’ as well as the guests, recognizing a creative mixture of celebrities as well as corporate moguls. For a usual private affair, Diego had certainly opened up the invitation list.
The reason why I was curious about.
Being indoctrinated into the family or Borgata, as some of the New Yorker members liked to call the organization, wasn’t for the faint of heart. I didn’t need a sixth sense to know that within the hour, several of the esteemed guests would need more than a shot of alcohol to soothe their stomachs.
“I’ll do just that. Thank you.” As I moved through the room, several of the women undressed me with their eyes. I could have any of them I wanted by simply wagging my finger. Yeah, I was some bigshot all right. Almost no one called me by my given name of Erik Chenault any longer. I’d been coined Blade after six months for my expertise in weaponry of a certain kind. Well, that and the fact I’d body slammed a freaking moron attempting to gut theEl Hefe, the jagged edge of the blade leaving a permanent scar on the right side of my face.
I’d grown used to the nickname as well as my unscrupulous reputation. The name served me well, especially during the occasional turf wars. Fortunately, Miami had been quiet as of late, leaving me with more relaxation time on my hands. However, my red flags were always on high alert. Quiet usually meant another faction was waiting in the wing, preparing for a turf war. I weaved my way through the expansive beachfront home in search of one of the bars. Tonight, my thirst required quenching. I loathed the official activities, the pomp and circumstance. As I moved outside, the light breeze floated a nostril full of sea air in my direction.
I loved the beach and the ocean. Any strip of white sand along any shore and I was a happy man. However, what brought me to Miami in the first place had nothing to do with living the high life. I’d been on a mission to save a soul, and not my own. Had I been successful? In truth, I had no idea. One thing I did know. I was ready to get the hell out. I had a single choice, but in doing so, I’d be hunted for the rest of my life. At this point, I couldn’t risk doing a damn thing. Yeah, I was frustrated as fuck, angry most of the time, including tonight.
“Hey, hey. There you are! The party has officially started.”
The boisterous call could be heard over the raucous laughter as well as the island music. I slanted my gaze in my buddy’s direction, finally cracking a smile. Breaker Wallace had come up through the ranks at the same time I had, and in the same brutal manner. He was perhaps the only person I felt I could trust—to some degree.
“Had some shit to deal with,” I said under my breath as I nodded to the bartender. The young man already knew what I liked. Diego made certain every member of his staff was well versed in preferences. If they didn’t learn, they ended up floating up on some unknown beach.
“You always have to deal with some kind of crap. Shit, man. You have more patience than I do.” Breaker nursed his drink, his eyes scanning the exterior perimeter, always on duty. There were armed guards everywhere, but we certainly couldn’t be too careful.
“Yeah, well, it pays the bills.” I tossed a hundred-dollar bill in the kid’s direction, no doubt making his night. When Breaker guided me around the side of the lagoon-style pool, I knew something was up. “Spill it.”
“Word on the street is that there’s going to be an attempt made on Diego.”
“When?” My keen senses caught bits of several conversations from the closest guests, my eyes roaming like a hunter.
