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Chelsea stares wide eyed at the chunks of brain matter on the wall,then looks at me and speaks calmly, “Come to my room when you’re done,”

“Okay,” I nod. It’s like she’s been giving orders all her life.

She turns and walks off with an unhurried pace.

When she’s gone, I tell Nick, Melvin and Dennis to clean up. They know what to do. It’s not the first time something like this has happened.

It’s not frequent enough to be classified a Tuesday, but these things do happen from time to time.

Jimmy had been a loyal soldier for three years. The heroin habit was four months old. We were aware of it. We told him to stop.

Today he was stupid enough to get high on the job and when he told one of the boys how he’d been talking casually about what’s going in our home, they came to me. I confronted him.

We talked. Getting his next fix was his priority, not keeping our secrets. When he realized he wasn’t leaving here alive, he tried to run. I was subduing him when Chelsea caught us in the foyer.

That’s what doing drugs will do to you. You’ll tell anybody anything. You’ll suck dick for a hit if things get bad enough. If the feds had caught him, they’d hold the drug charge over his head and make him flip—They’d make an informant out of him.

If that’d happened, we’d have been fucked.

That’s why we have the rule—No drugs!

Right now, I have to know whether this fucking dealer of his is high enough in the food chain to care about whoChelsea Lombardois.

If the Cassian find out she’s alive, that could make things go from zero-to-fucked in no time at all.

Thankfully, everyone else is out of the house. I’m going to try and keep this quiet because if everyone else knows what happened with Jimmy, they’re going to think I can’t run my crew.

I’ve got a little bungalow on the east side of the property, separate from the main house. It’s nothing special—A bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom.It’s like a little apartment. That’s my first stop. I use an ATV to get there.

Once I’m in the shower, I scald myself to wash all the blood off.

My hands are still in good condition.

Normally, beating someone that bad will fracture bones and split knuckles, but I’ve been doing it so long it doesn’t even hurt anymore.

Using my hands with Jimmy was also a sign of respect. Hitting him with a tool would have been impersonal. He deserved that much after three years.

It’s a shame…what happened. Thankfully, Jimmy has no dependents. He’s a solider, not a captain, so we wouldn’t have had to support them, I’d still have felt bad though.

And—if was a captain, I’d have had a sit-down with my dad and asked permission to have him clipped. Our organization has rules like any other.

When I’m done with the shower, I dress in jeans, a t-shirt, boots and a Jaxet, then take the ATV back to the main house.

I find Carlo in the kitchen and ask if Chelsea’s had dinner yet—She hasn’t.I have him make a thin-base pizza, Sicilian style with anchovies, capers and olives, box it and head to Chelsea’s room.

It’s unfortunate she saw what she saw. I’d have preferred it if she didn’t, but sometimes getting thrown in the deep end is the best way to learn.

She handled herself well enough. I know plenty of civilians who’d have plainfreaked outat what was happening.

I knock twice on the door and hear her call out, “It’s open!”

I let myself in and find Chelsea standing there in a new outfit. “Was that easy for you to do?”

“No.” I offer her the box, “Pizza?”

She gives me a blank stare.

“Carlo made it. Anchovies.”

She comes to me and takes the box, “Why’d you have to torture him like that.”

“Several reasons,” I follow her on to the patio in the light of dusk, “actions have consequences. That’s why I took the eye. The others will talk about it and word spreads. It keeps people in line.”

“That’s the eye,” she sits, “what about beating him to within an inch of his life?”

I sit too, “I could only know if he was telling me the whole truth once he knew he had nothing to lose.”

“Did he?”

“Yes.”

She gives me a solemn nod and opens the box, chews her cheek for two seconds, then turns the pizza to me.

I pull out a slice and close it. “No appetite?”

“First eyeball separation,” she grimaces, “do you enjoy what you do?”

“I’m not an animal, Chelsea. I don’t get my rocks off from hurting people or killing them. It’s just a fact that the strong rule the weak. From time to time you need to demonstrate that power. I take no pleasure in it.’

“Hmm,” she stares out at the green pasture.

I turn the box back to her, “You should try this, it’s good. Also, you left your lunch in the cellar.”

“That was my breakfast,” she gives me a little smile and takes a slice.

She’s gorgeous. It’s weird to think this after just killing someone—but I’d really like to fuck her right now.They say people are horny at funerals because our reptile brains feel like we have to create new life when one is extinguished.

“What do you mean—you take no pleasure in it?How can someone be so good at something and not take pleasure?”

I laugh, “Some tennis players don’t even like the game, they do it for the money. This is the exact same thing.”

“Touché,” she points at me.

When I’m done with my slice, I stand and go over to her. “Listen,” I put my hand on her shoulder, “I need a favor.”

She gives a surprised look.

“Keep what happened between us. I don’t want anyone knowing about it till I go check out the guy who sold to Jimmy. I need to know if this is a serious threat or not.”

“What doIget out of it?” She gives me a naughty smile. It makes me want to tear off her clothes and fuck her right here.

“What would you like?”

She stands…and she’s so close to me, we’re breathing the same air. She pushes her hand down on my cock with that same mischievous smile. I involuntarily grunt because I was hard already. “This…and…”

“And what?”

“And if you’re going to check out that guy now, I want to come with you. I’m bored.” She pulls my face down with two hands and kisses me deep, with a furious passion I wouldn’t have imagined from her, sucking on my tongue.

My hands instinctively go to her ass and I heft her up onto me so I don’t have to bend. No sooner than I do, does she push off from me, landing on her feet.

“Uh…uh,” she sings the words and waves a delicious finger at me—No.“Business first, then this,” she pats the bulge in my pants again.

I grunt in frustration.I am going to destroy that pussy.“Your wish is my command.”

“Good,” she says, “let’s go.”

We take my Maserati and head for the north side of town—it’s Cassaduchi territory.It used to be ours.

I keep my thoughts—and my hands—to myself while Chelsea plays with the radio and all the buttons in the car. Sometimes it’s easy to forget she’s only twenty-one years old…a gorgeous, ripe, twenty-one-year-old.

We get to the dive-bar that Jimmy mentioned. It’s a place I’ve been to before on occasion. It’s called—The Rat Trap.A low face-brick building on the dirty side of the port.

It’s a shithole. Damp, wet, greasy and dark.

I park in the gravel lot, my Maserati stands out in stark contrast to the battered down pickups and other filthy work vehicles surrounding us—tow-trucks and such.

Chelsea smiles to me, “Definitely looks like the kind of place where people score heroin.”

“It does indeed,” I pat her on the thigh for an excuse to touch her, “let’s go. Follow my lead and let me do the talking.”

She nods.

As we both get out of the car, I wonder if I should have brought her along. I was more focused on my reward than her safety.Oh well…we’re here now.

When we’re a few feet from the saloon doors, I stop Chelsea and say, “We don’t know each other, Okay? You can be my backup. Stay close but not too close.”

She winks, “Got it.”

I push through the doors and the rank smell of sweat, grease, tobacco and cheap booze assaults my senses. I look at Chelsea and see her cringe before she tries to act normal again.

There’s a smattering of unoccupied, square, four-seater tables, a pool table and a juke box. The bar counter is an old ship’s hull. It’s lined with blue-collar workers. I scan them all and spot the guy I’m looking for all the way at the end on the right—near a fire door that has no alarm.Perfect.

These guys are all relaxing after a long day of busting their asses, no one pays us any mind.

I signal Chelsea to follow and walk the length of the bar counter. I point to the vacant stool to the left of the guy we’re here for and she takes it.

The guy—Fish, is what they call him—lifts his ballcap and looks Chelsea up and down. I take the stool on the right of him while he does. He doesn’t even know I exist.

I say, “Fish?”

He turns to me. His eyes grow wide as recognition sets in. I don’t know him myself, but I guess he knows me. He turns back to Chelsea.

I see her eyes dart to me. He knows. He slips off his stool—likely to make a quick exit—and I grab his arm, “I just want to talk to you, Fish.”

It all happens in seconds…

When Fish pushes me back with both hands, Chelsea shouts, “Hey,” and takes his beer bottle by the stem, uses it like a sap and smashes it over the back of his head.

Fish is stunned, but when he turns to defend himself, I get him in a rear choke hold and drag him backwards toward the fire exit.

When I push through the door, the alarm sounds—Fuck!

When Chelsea comes through, she pushes the door closed. I throw Fish against it.

He puts his hands up in panic when he sees my Beretta pointed between his eyes. “I won’t tell anybody, man. I swear, I won’t tell!”

“Tell anyone what?” I have to yell over the sound of the ringing.

“About her,” his eyes dart to Chelsea.

She grabs his shirt collar with both hands and yells, “WHAT ABOUT ME?”

I yank her away and put the gun to Fish’s head, “TALK!”

“The last Lombardo!”

Fuck.Not only does he know, but there’s a room full of witnesses inside and the firetrucks and police are probably on their way.

Chelsea yells at me, “We have to go!”

“I’m thinking!” The Maserati is a two-seater. People are probably filing out the front, they’ll see us putting him in thetrunk. I need to question him and find out who he’s told. How the fuck do we get him out of here in five seconds?FUCK!

“Just fucking shoot him!” Chelsea shouts impatiently.

I don’t think, I put the gun to chest. POP! POP! POP! Three in the heart. I hurl the gun with all my might over the bay. When I turn back, Fish is slumped against the door—deader than disco.

It’s easier killing people when you don’t know them.
I look at Chelsea, “Run!”

We sprint around the side of the building and see the patrons gathering calmly in the front. They glance our way but don’t seem too concerned, so I grab Chelsea’s hand and slow our pace.There’s no way they didn’t hear the shots, but it’s better not toactguilty.

We get to the Maserati, slide in and I calmly exit the parking lot. As soon as I’m on the road however, I haul ass like I’m escaping the scene of a crime—because I am!

Chelsea glares at me, “What the fuck, Christian?”

“The fucking fire alarm was broken last time!”

“When?”

I shake my heading trying to remember, “Like a year ago I think?”

Chelsea does a facepalm, “A year ago?” She looks at me and laughs.

I laugh too!