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I planned to kill Cal Higgs. His recreational drug usage had taken on a more professional spin in the past few months when he tried to cut in on the Volkov drug territory by aligning himself with rival dealers. His sins could have been forgiven had he not lied to us, ensuring my father and our men that we were welcome at his restaurant, all the while he was assisting in our eventual demise. Disloyalty is the biggest danger to our control and it can’t be tolerated.
So, Cal Higgs was on my hit list, regardless. When I cornered him in the lot, however, and he attempted to ingratiate himself to me by offering up Eve in his stead, he ensured his death would be slow.
“You hate the Furinos, and I hate employing his slut daughter,” he said, nervous sweat collecting on his forehead. “She is right inside. I’ll order her out here, and you can do what you will with her. Make her pay for what she did to your father. I’ll back you up. I won’t say a word. Fuck her sideways if you want. I can help you.”
I made sure not to touch his heart. I didn’t want him to bleed out quickly. Instead, I focused on his lungs. His chest whistled with every labored inhale, and I watched his breathing become more and more shallow. His lips began to turn blue from lack of oxygen before he died. His fingertips went purple, and his eyes rolled back in his head. I left when he fell unconscious, then took up my post across the street.
It took longer than I had expected for the man’s body to be discovered. The restaurant emptied out and the employees left, everyone completely unaware of the chef’s body going cold under the streetlight. Finally, I knew Eve would be the one to find him. Her car was only a few spaces away from his. She’d have to be a blind idiot not to see him, and Eve is anything but that.
She is observant. Her caramel eyes studying the world around her, searching for where the next threat might come from. And she is smart. Disobedient and rash, but intelligent. She can be trained.
I’ve never wanted marriage. I’ve never wanted a person who would depend on me, a woman who would be there when I came home, talking and demanding my attention, but ever since I proposed to Eve, I can’t get the idea out of my head. I can’t stop imagining her in my bed. In my arms. I still don’t want to attend to her needs and take on the responsibility, but I want her to attend to mine.
When she walks through the back door of the restaurant, I sit up. She is in a pair of dark pants and a white t-shirt. Her uniform. But it fits her like lingerie. Even from across the street, her curves are obvious and alluring, and I imagine running my hands down her body and gripping her hips. Warmth settles in my belly, and I realize how long it has been since I’ve had release. Work takes priority always, and it has been busier than usual, especially since the attack on our production center. Busy or not, I could make time to find release with Eve.
She locks the door behind her, and like I suspected she would, she notices Cal’s car immediately. She surveys her surroundings, and I catch myself congratulating her, remarking on her instincts like she is taking some kind of test. I expect her to be pleased Cal Higgs is dead. He allowed her to be paraded around his restaurant in a makeshift skirt. He stood by and let her be berated by my father in front of other diners. Cal Higgs stood by and let her take the fall for a lackluster meal that was not even her fault. I thought Eve would celebrate his death. Instead, she cries.
I wouldn’t cry over the death of someone I liked, let alone someone I hated. So, why is she upset? It doesn’t make sense.
My phone buzzes, and I take the call, my eyes locked on her body crumpled in the parking lot. I have soldiers moving production equipment from the attacked cocaine lab to a new location, and they keep calling me with idiotic questions a trained monkey wouldn’t need to ask. Usually, Simon would oversee this, but since his meeting with the Furino mafia, he can’t be trusted.
“You do not report to Simon,” I remind the soldier for the fifth time. “Set the lab up yourself. You’ve worked in one long enough to know what it should fucking look like.”
The soldier assures me he can handle it, which I’m ninety percent sure he can’t, but I’m too busy watching Eve to argue. She falls forward on her face, her body folded in on itself, and I hang up on the soldier mid-sentence.
For reasons I can’t understand, I want to go to her. I want to understand why she is crying for this man. I want to pick her up off the ground and…make things better for her. It doesn’t make any sense, but I’m opening my car door and stepping out with every intention of crossing the street and laying a hand on her shoulder.
But movement at the edge of the lot stops me. A shadow darts from behind a dumpster and steps into the yellow glow of the street light. He is fifteen feet behind Eve, but she has no idea. I’m not certain, but I think I recognize the man as a hitman for the Irish mob. I know he isn’t one of my men, and unless Eve’s father is out for her head, he isn’t with the Furinos.
I stand still and watch. Eve was supposed to die anyway. Eventually, my father wanted me to take her out, so why not let this man do my job for me?
I can’t hear what he says, but he must say something, because Eve jolts and scrambles up. She takes a few steps backwards and shakes her head, the man matching every step. But then, suddenly, she stops. The hitman continues advancing, but she stands her ground. Her back straightens, and she lifts her chin and faces him. Unarmed, unprotected, and alone, Eve is going to fight until the last second.
The hitman smiles, head tilting to the side at her show of bravery. He sees it as foolish. He is accustomed to people weeping and begging and falling on their faces, but not Eve. She will fall on her face to mourn the death of a man she didn’t like, but she will stand tall in the face of her own impending murder. For that reason and that reason alone, I run across the street and creep along the edge of the building.
The hitman and Eve are both too focused on one another to see me approaching. As I get closer, I can overhear what they are saying.
“I’m not going to beg,” Eve says. “Do what you came to do.”
“I might let you go if you beg,” the hitman purrs. “If you make it worth my while.”
I know what he means, and so does Eve. She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “I’m not your whore, and I’d rather die than touch you.”
The hitman’s smile falters, and he lifts his gun, but before he can pull the trigger, I’m behind him. I plunge my blade into his carotid artery. He turns around to see who stabbed him, but by then, he is already bleeding out. The gun falls from his hand, blood pulsing from his wound in rhythmic bursts that slow as his heart begins to give out. He collapses on the ground, dead within a minute.
I look up, once again expecting Eve to be pleased to see me—or, at the very least, grateful to me for saving her life—but her eyes are wide, and her face is pale. She is terrified. She just stumbled upon a dead man in the parking lot and then was attacked by a hitman in the same parking lot, yet she trembles at the sight of me. I know there is a compliment hidden in there somewhere, but I don’t feel proud.
“You’re welcome.” I bend down and wipe my knife on a clean scrap of the hitman’s shirt, and then stash it in my pocket.
“You killed Cal,” she says, head nodding back in gesture to her dead boss.
“And saved your life,” I remind her, pointing to the growing puddle of blood between us.
“Why?” she spits.
“You need to be more specific.” I cross my arms and take a step back to avoid getting blood on my shoes. “Why did I kill Cal Higgs, or why did I just save your life?”
She stares at me without saying anything, and her gaze makes me nervous. I feel like I’m being studied under a microscope. Like there is an itch under my skin I can’t quite ease. So, I start talking.
