I liked having my own space to interrogate, and it just so happened that alcohol came in handy when needing to clean up blood, well that and the loud music. Swear, it would make a grown man cry to know how many people lost their lives, their freaking souls in that back room.
I turned off the car and walked purposefully through the front doors with every instinct on high alert—too high if you asked me—I sauntered over to the bar and slammed my hand onto it.
Marco took one look at me and slid a bottle of Jack in my direction. “Rough night?”
I snorted and took a pull directly from the bottle. “Try rough existence.”
“Need me to—”
“No.” I waved him off. I already knew where he was going with his question. He would ask if I needed him to take care of something, I’d either answer yes and slip him the name and address of that certain something, or I’d say no and we’d pretend like he didn’t ask me in the first place.
Being the Abandonatos redheaded step child did have its perks. It meant I got to do things my way every damn time—as long as I got the job done.
“You need anything else, let me know.” Marco slapped the counter a few times with his dishtowel and went over to his next customer.
“So,” a sultry voice said from behind me. “It’s been a while.”
“And it’s going to be a lot longer too,” I said without turning around. “Go to Hell.”
“Ouch, wearing our bitch pants tonight, are we?” Nails dug into my back. I could only imagine the slut thought it would be erotic, when really all I could focus on was the fact that I could peel each perfectly painted nail from her fingers without even blinking.
Yeah, I was in a dark place if I was thinking of hurting a woman.
I’d slept with her once and didn’t even know her name, just that she frequented my bar and was easy.
“Go away.” I took another swig.
“Fine.” She pulled her hand back leaving me alone again.
Within ten minutes I’d had my fair share of the bottle, but not enough for me to forget Mo or what she looked like in someone else’s arms. Damn it!
The house phone rang above the noise.
Marco answered and then eyed me across the bar and rolled his eyes then made a shooting motion with his hand. Bastard probably had an assignment from Frank. Oh right, another fun fact? I completed contracts from all three families.
So I might not belong anywhere, but at least I was rich as hell and damn good at what I did.
The bar fell silent. Curious, I looked up at the door.
Three men walked in.
One had a cane, but it wasn’t for walking, more like whacking if you get me, and not the good kind. The guys flanking him looked like they’d just got done doing steroids and needed a place to release all their tension. Their shoulders were huge, and they were at least a head taller than the rest of the group. The man in the middle paused, his eyes scanning the crowd before falling on me.
A smile curved his lips as he started walking towards the bar.
Well, shit. Either I was dying or he was, and honest moment? I didn’t care which way the tables turned. How sick was that? I needed a damn heart transplant, that’s what I needed. Maybe if I had a new one, the old one would stop hurting so much.
“We finally meet.” The man said pulling out a stool next to me.
“Right,” I snickered. “I’ve been waiting for years to meet you too. Tell me what’s Mom look like? Do I have her eyes? I’ve been dying to see my true family, gosh darn it this is the best day of my life. Can I call you Dad?”
The guy motioned to Marco for a drink. “You… are a smart ass.”
“Aw…” I slapped him on the back earning me a grunt from the other two men who took a step towards us but stopped when the man held up his hand. “Thanks. That’s like the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day, and I’ll let you in on a little secret, I was having a kick ass hair day so I had all kinds of compliments.”
“Clever.” The man chuckled and ordered a whiskey on the rocks.
“My hair?” I joked, trying to throw him off balance. “Thanks man, I mean I don’t swing that way, but I may make an exception if you keep complimenting me like that.”
“Tell me…” He still wasn’t looking at me, but his side profile gave me all the information I knew. Long scar from his left ear to his nose, like someone had slashed his cheek. Salt and pepper hair, a fit body, probably around five ten and one seventy five. His fingernails were clean, meaning he wasn’t a made man—most likely he ordered things to be done—and his posture screamed control. Slight accent? I needed to listen harder.
“Tell you what?” I smiled willing him to look at me so I could look into his eyes and see into his soul. That’s what I did. I read souls. Not in a creepy way but in a way that made me damn good at what I did. One look into someone’s eyes and I knew… unfortunately it only worked with would-be killers. With Mo? Clueless.
My instincts were always off with her, always had been, always would be.
“Do you truly enjoy this little act?”
“What act?”
“This.” The man finally turned and pointed at my smile. “And do you think you could fool me, of all people?”
“Well, considering I don’t really know who you are,” I said with a shrug “I guess you have your answer, and honestly…” I leaned forward so I was inches from his face. “I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what you like or don’t like, take it or leave it.”
“You should.”
“I should… what? Hmm, Grandpa?”
“You’re funny. “He chuckled throwing back his drink. “And you should… care that is.”
“Give me one good reason.” I let my knife fall into my hands from my sleeve and hovered over his femoral artery, ready to cut within seconds.
“Only a very desperate or very stupid man would kill me. Which are you, I wonder?”
Taken aback that he even knew I had the knife hovering near his leg, I pulled back and answered honestly, “A little of both.”
“This time next month—” He finished his drink. “You’ll be dead.”
“Cool, you telling me ahead of time so I can plan my funeral, or do you just like giving people good news?”
His cold grey eyes looked me up and down. “I expected you to be smaller. Your father, he was a small man.”