A sound to my left pulled my attention. The night was dark, the house darker. Either they didn’t know we were coming or fucking smelled us a mile away. The Colt snug in my hand, I eased up the weathered wood stairs. It creaked on the third step, and I moved into stealth mode. Pausing to listen. Nothing. I pushed open the front door, a slight squeak that could pass for wind through the rafters, stilled my movements. When nothing stirred, I stepped into a living room strewn with cans of beer, pizza boxes, and porn magazines. Someone was keeping a fucking low profile. Two steps in, I saw him. With his back to me, mouth popping out a wad of gum, his right hand worked his cock to a centerfold of tits and bush. I shook my head. To each its own.
With the Colt an inch from his scalp, I grinned, thinking I should wait until he comes, to off him. A case of he came and he went. “Still trying to get that pecker to piss cum, Laurel.”
The man jumped up, tripping on his jeans around his ankles and felt forward on his cock. He howled before he righted himself and sat up. His large eyes grew rounder when he noticed me. “James Dean? What the fuck? You’re dead.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Grinning, I gestured with the Colt for him to rise. “Where’s Ha—”
“I’ve got Hardy,” Kat walked in, dragging a twin set of the man in front of me. His face already puffy. She’d worked him solid. “Where you want them?”
“Basement.” I nodded for my man to move. Laurel and Hardy, twin brother serial killers I’d run into previously.
“James Dean?” Kat arched a brow at me. “Really?”
“What can I say, I make pseudonyms look good.” I winked and she rolled her eyes at me.
Two hours later, Kat’s voice bounced down the basement stairs. “Gabriel!”
“Yeah?” I moved to the bottom of the stairs and looked up.
“Check your phone. I got a call from Declan. He says Ria’s father has been trying to get hold of you.”
I strode over to my jacket I’d tossed over one of the chairs earlier, pulled out my phone and checked it. “Fuck. No service in this fucking place.” I glared at the concrete floor and cinderblock walls.
“Declan says it's urgent, Ria’s been trying to call you,” Kat yelled.
“Fuck. I’m coming up.” Grabbing my jacket, I took the stairs two at a time. “Finish it.” I nodded to her as I walked out. A minute later, my phone pinged with a dozen calls from Ria and another couple more from Declan. I dialed Ria. “Hey, baby girl,” I said as I heard it connect.
“I’m assuming you’re looking for Ria?”
I frowned, looked at the phone to check if I dialed the right number then asked, “who is this?”
“That’s not important for now,” the voice sounded mature, older, deeper.
“Don’t tell me what’s fucking important or not, where’s my wife?”
“Indisposed at the moment.”
Tension beat through my body, and I gripped the phone hard. This is why I stayed away from relationships, in my line of work, family was always at risk. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Listen to me very carefully, Mr. Morrone. As of today, you will forget Ria exists. You will not—”
“You’re messing with the wrong man if you think I’m going to listen to this—”
“I’ve done you a courtesy by taking this call but quite clearly you’re not a reasonable man. So, I’ll make this short. Don’t try to find Ria. It will be costly to both of you.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Her father.”
“Wait. What? Harsh Singh is her father.”
“Not everything is black and white, Mr. Morrone. Ria is safe as long as you stay away from her.”
“Is this some sick joke?” My lungs burned as I sucked down air fighting to force back the shadows of fear curling around my spine.
“I assure you, Mr. Morrone, I’ve been called sick and worse, but I never joke so you might be a little respectful. The second you start looking for Ria, I will know and you will regret it.”
“Now you listen to me, asshole, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but when I get my hands on you, you will regret crossing my path. Touch one fucking hair on her and I will make you live to regret the day your balls grew hair.”
