Christ, the longing. It’s fucking killing me.
When I reach the group of soldiers, I take a good look at each man. Some are scared, giving me the impression they might’ve joined the organization recently, while the few seasoned ones are tense and ready for a fight.
Even though I’ve been busy with this war for so many years, there are always new men joining the Irish mafia. That’s what makes it so difficult for law enforcement to take down a crime syndicate.
“The crates behind me contain weapons,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear. “If you can get past me and reach the crates, you can help yourself to a weapon and attempt to fight your way out of here.”
It’s one of my favorite games, but I don’t get to play often because it’s no small feat rounding up so many soldiers. I have to remember to give Hugo and his team bonuses for a job well done.
The Irish fuckers’ expressions alternate between looking confused and suspicious.
Lifting my arm, I signal for my guards to clear out. Only Nico hangs back, taking up a position by the door where he lights a cigarette.
One of the Irish soldiers steps forward and asks, “That’s it? If we make it past you, we get to walk out of here?”
I nod. “You have my word.” I hold the submachine gun ready and impatiently snap, “Get going!”
Wasting time, they glance at each other, and to motivate the fuckers, I shoot one of them. They scatter across the concrete floor, and keeping track of the remaining thirteen, I begin to pick them off.
The bodies drop fast, and as the bastard who asked the question comes right at me, the other remaining man makes it to a crate.
I notice Nico taking a deep drag of his cigarette, still leaning against the doorjamb.
As the man who asked the question slams his shoulder into my chest, lifting me off the floor, I aim at the other one by the crates. Just as he fires his weapon, I take him down with two shots.
I feel his bullet burn across the side of my neck, then I go down as the only remaining bastard slams me hard into the concrete floor.
Air explodes from my lungs. His fist connects with my face, and as he begins to deliver punch after punch, my bloody lips curve into a smile.
I let him have his way, the pain he’s inflicting on me easing the relentless heartbreak eating away at my soul.
This is the only way I can get some relief.
When the skin splits by my right eyebrow, I’ve had enough. Growling, I wrestle him onto his back before I repay the favor.
The skin over my knuckles splits open, and the warmth of his blood coats my hand as I beat him. My heartbeat speeds up a little when he gets more punches in, and I actually appreciate the effort he’s putting in to stay alive.
But not enough to spare him.
Maybe it’s something I’d consider if I had Sienna to keep me grounded, but that’s not the case.
As his blood flows and his bones break, the darkness takes over, and roaring, I shove my thumbs into his eyes.
His cry feeds my sadistic side, and when I dig his eyeballs out of their sockets, the fucker loses consciousness, ruining all my fun.
I climb to my feet, and picking up the submachine gun, I turn back to the Irishman and empty the magazine into his body.
“Feel any better?” Nico asks while he crushes the cigarette butt beneath his boot.
I drop the weapon on the ground and walk to the table where a twenty-four pack of water stands. Grabbing a bottle, I rinse my hands while muttering, “What do you think?”
“Sorry. Stupid question.” Nico lets out a sharp whistle to get our men’s attention, then orders, “Come clean up.” He walks toward me and asks, “Any specific place you want the bodies dropped off?”
“Scatter the heads around the docks. They can burn the bodies.”
As my men get to work, I head to the office at the back of the warehouse and take a seat behind my desk. Nico comes in carrying a first aid kit. Without a word, he treats the burn on the side of my neck, a reminder of the single lucky shot one of the fuckers managed before I put him down. He also cleans the cuts on my bottom lip and eyebrow.
My phone begins to ring, and I dig it out of my pocket. Seeing Dad’s name, I accept the call.
