Chapter 4

Mills

Mills was good with women, but this time it felt completely different.

Don’t get too close to anyone. That was his rule.

Jena was beautiful, yes, and of course, he wanted to take her home and fuck her brains out until she screamed his name so loud the whole neighborhood knew she belonged to him.

But at the same time, he didn’t.

Her eyes, her hair, her body, she was perfect in every way, but it was her smile that did him in.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. What was going on? Her voice was like a melody reaching down from Heaven, letting him catch a glimpse of everything he was missing.

The moment he tapped on her hand to talk to her sealed the deal. Yeah, he was fucked.

Was this lust? He wanted her, sure. But it was also so much more.

One thing was for certain, though. He had to get away as soon as possible.

When she looked at Beast he almost went mad with jealousy. He had only been talking to her for like five minutes and he was already going insane.

Good thing she diffused the situation with her good attitude, her smile, her jokes, everything. She was a hard worker; he respected that more than anything.

“Did you just open up? I never heard of this place before today.”

“Six months ago,” she said, “I thought it was going to be easier, though.”

“I don’t understand how you’re having problems. This coffee is incredible.”

“Well, I don’t get it either.”

She leaned back on the back wall, sighing deeply.

“Hey, it’s snowing!”

He and Beast turned to look outside and there it was: the first snow of the season, painting everything in white.

He hated snow. Well, you know, not the thing itself, but work was so much more difficult with weather like that.

People don’t go out when it’s snowing. He and his friend had to kick doors down to collect whatever shit people owed their boss, be it money or blood. And that was on a good day.

On a bad day, the—

“Well, of course you don’t!” His boss yelled, hitting the table with his fist.

Shit. Something was up.

“Let’s go,” Beast said, his voice turned as cold as winter itself. Mills made a mistake, he relaxed with all this conversation. He lowered his guard.

“This is business, act like a God-damned businessman!”

“Listen to yourself!” Enrico Saliani replied calmly.

“Fuck off!” His boss yelled.

“No, fuck you, Caronte!”

Saliani stood up and reached for the weapon in his belt, hidden beneath the big coat he wore.

The two bodyguards behind him kicked the table the moment Mr. Caronte tried to stand, hitting him in the stomach, taking the air out of him, dropping him to the ground.

The sound of a gun exploding left Mills completely deaf, the instant it took him to blink was long enough for him to take his gun out and point it at a bodyguard.

A gun fired next to him again, it was Beast, shooting for the second time. He could feel the cold hand of Death tapping on his shoulder, telling him it had come again to visit. Would he be the one she’d take with her this time?

The bodyguard nearer to them painted the wall behind him red with his blood. Another loud crack of thunder blasted his eardrums, Beast was firing again. Everything was going in slow-motion.

Saliani and the tattooed bodyguard fired back at them, he ducked behind a set of tables. He should have been nervous, his boss was too close to the enemy, they could take him out, but the only person he could think of was her.

She stood behind the counter, bullets wheezing past her. Cold fear filled him in an instant.

Fuck it. Mills fired at the back room as he jumped over the bar to bring Jena down to the floor, she kept on screaming, panic taking a hold of her.

Shit, this wasn’t going to end up well.

“Stay down!” He yelled and joined Beast, firing at the bastards again and again, each of them changing magazines in turns, they couldn’t allow them to fire back.

The enemy hid behind an upright table. To the left, Caronte lied on the ground, Mills didn’t know if he was still alive.

Saliani and the thug fired blindly at them, they couldn’t escape—

Shit.

There was an emergency exit right next to them. He hadn’t seen it, hidden in the dark, the sign above it was dead.

Shit like this wasn’t like in the movies, mob bosses weren’t educated, reasonable men.

This were different times. People got too much money too fast, mostly by killing everyone they thought could be an enemy. There was no honor in the business anymore.

The tattooed fucker ran to the door and crashed his body against it, opening it in a thud, falling down outside.

His Glock went off again and again —sixteen bullets plus one in the chamber, after all— the sound of death filled the air until there was nothing but silece.

He stood up, his gun pointed ahead.

“You okay?” Beast asked.

He looked down to see Jena cowering in fear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

This was even worse than he thought. The girl didn’t deserve this. Life was hard enough without all this bullshit.

There he is.

Saliani was making a break for it. He ran to the exit, firing at him and Beast, but it was too late.

He got riddled with bullets, his body dropping down in a heavy thud against the wall.

He was still breathing, his eyes full of surprise, trying to understand what just happened. He was dying. The enemy got him.

“You okay?” Beast yelled again.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“What about her?”

A flash of jealousy filled him. He looked at Jena, she was in fetal position, covering her ears. Seeing her like that broke his heart.

Or whatever he had in his chest, he was sure he didn’t have a heart anymore, not after everything he’d done in his life.

Not after doing this to this perfect, beautiful woman.

“She’s all right, too.”

He walked forward, eyeing the exit. If the thug was smart he would have been gone by now.

If he wasn’t, if he was loyal, and I mean, really loyal, he’d shoot them from outside.

Every step forward was like gambling their lives. Every step was an affront to death, daring it to finally take him with it.

One bullet. That’s all you need. Get shot once and you’re dead.

But the tattooed man wasn’t there. He ran away.

Of course he did.

“Motherfucker,” he heard a voice say, “is he dead?”

It was boss Caronte. He had a bullet in his shoulder, his suit turning dark red. They needed to move fast, take him to Joseph to stop the bleeding.

“What’s that noise?” The boss asked.

Then he heard it and every muscle in his body stiffened.

It was Jena, she was crying, whimpering quietly, as quietly as anyone can.

Fucking hell.

She was a witness.