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I yanked out three twenties from my wallet, tossing them on the bar before pushing my way through the crowd toward the exit, running toward the subway. As soon as I noticed her heading down the flights of stairs, I realized the same guy was following her, even glancing over his shoulder before he moved behind her.
The street wasn’t deserted yet one of the man reasons I loathed New York was that no one would care if she was accosted, looking the other way instead of getting involved.
That was all I could take. I raced forward, snapping my hand around the man’s jacket, yanking him backward by several feet.
After issuing a punch, I expected him to stay down on the sidewalk where I’d explain to him that following pretty young girls wasn’t in his best interest. When the fucker made the mistake of struggling to his feet, even taking two swings at me, I had to grin. He actually believed in his inebriated state that he could best me.
I grabbed him by the throat, driving him across the sidewalk, slamming his body against the wall. His breathing was rancid, like a brewery mixed with a French whorehouse. Men with no self-respect pissed me off almost as much as those I considered treacherous bastards.
“What… do you want?” he asked gruffly.
Instead of answering right away, I reached my hand into his jacket pocket, easily finding his wallet.
“You’re robbing me? Just don’t kill me.”
I released my hold from his neck while I yanked out his driver’s license. “Lucas Marciano.” After reading off his name, I purposely dropped his wallet on the cracked sidewalk before yanking the Glock into my hand and pressing it against his temple. “Now, I’m giving you a choice. You can either walk away from here and live to see another day or attempt to follow that young woman any further. It’s entirely up to you. I’m a fair man.”
“I wasn’t doing nothing. I swear to fucking God.”
While there was a slight slur to his words, the fact he knew exactly what I was referring to irritated the piss out of me. “You have three seconds to decide.” When his eyes barely registered I was speaking to him, I shoved my other arm into his throat, cutting off his air supply. “Two seconds.”
He coughed, doing his best to nod.
I drove my arm against his vocal cords, cocking my head and sneering at him. I could easily snap his neck if I wanted, but I wasn’t here to cause any more of a scene than necessary. When I released my hold, he tumbled to his feet.
“I know your name and where you live, Mr. Marciano. I’m giving you a piece of advice and I suggest you take it. Stay away from pretty young women and you just might make it to your next birthday. If not, I will be back. And next time, I won’t be so nice since I’ll be forced to dole out punishment.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I drove the barrel of my weapon under his chin, using every ounce of control not to fire off a single shot. Allowing things to get messy would only add to my workload.
“You can call me the Boogeyman.”
CHAPTER 2
Two months later…
Maddox
Fucking July heat.
New Orleans was broiling, sweat beading across my forehead. Maybe because I was dressed in a goddamned suit. Even the air conditioning in my pricey sports car couldn’t keep up with the relentless heat. Just before I was about to exit my vehicle, my phone rang and I answered without looking, ready to bark at the person on the other end.
“Maddox.”
“She’s home.” Arman Thibodeaux’s voice was distinctive as usual, but today the tone held a sense of relief. “She landed safely. Just got in an hour ago.”
He’d insisted his only daughter return from New York, which would likely be a bone of contention for the stunning young woman with a brazen attitude and a mind of her own. “Youfinally convinced her to return.” I’d been surprised she hadn’t returned with her father. I doubted her decision to remain in the city longer had been met with Arman’s full approval. Granted, the girl did have him wrapped around her finger and always had.
“No. I insisted she come home for the summer at minimum. Pick up a dozen roses. Will ya? No, make that two dozen. And they need to be red.”
Red roses. I loathed the flower more now than ever. Especially the color, but for him, I’d make an exception.
I shook my head, Arman’s request driving a smile to my face. He was my boss, considered the most powerful man in New Orleans. The ruthless syndicate leader known as the Kingpin was also my best friend.
And I was his Wiseguy.
He rarely asked for favors, preferring to handle his business and personal needs himself. This made number two for the day, the first being to hunt down a rat who’d dared steal from the organization. That one had been easy, the smarmy dude’s inability to keep his trap shut the very reason it had taken me all of one hour and four minutes to track his sorry ass to his on-again, off-again girlfriend’s place just outside of the city.
