It was never a good party when one of the hookers fucking died.

I had no clue who gave her the heroin, and it probably didn’t matter, but I wanted to bash his fucking skull in anyway. That was such a waste of life, that poor girl. She didn’t deserve to die just because she wanted to do some fucking heroin.

My apartment was empty. It was no surprise that the place had cleared out pretty quick. Most of the people there knew that when one of the girls got hurt or someone got mouthy, the mob was going to get involved. Nobody wanted that.

A bunch of fucking pussies. I handled the mob, like I always fucking did. They were just men like anyone else, and any man could be swayed with the right motivation.

When it came to the mob, the right motivation was money.

I splashed some water on my face and rinsed my mouth out with mouthwash. I could still taste the girl’s lipstick on my tongue, and I wanted that taste gone.

I wished I had gotten a taste of Ryan’s date instead. I told her I wasn’t the type to steal girls, and that was somewhat true. If they came to me, well, I wasn’t the type to turn them away.

Some girls just needed to ride the Bull.

And that Charley girl, she was definitely one of those girls. Sexy fucking hips, beautiful fucking ass, and lips that made my cock hard. I had no clue how Ryan got her, but that little rapist pig shit didn’t deserve her one bit.

She’d figure that out sooner or later.

Didn’t matter, though. I had my own shit to deal with. I poured myself a nice, heavy scotch and sat down in my favorite chair, my legs kicked up on the ottoman.

I kept thinking about that girl’s nice, round ass. There’d been plenty of women in my apartment that night, but I didn’t fuck with hookers. I didn’t pay for pussy, never had and never would. I never needed to, not with my fucking reputation at least.

Women tended to throw themselves at me. I was the fucking Bull, one of the most violent men in all of football. I was big, I was badass, and I was hung like my namesake. All in all, it made getting pussy pretty fucking simple.

But for some reason, that girl Charley kept coming back to me. Normally I wouldn’t give a girl like her a second thought, but she was in my head. There was just something about her that I found so fucking exciting.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at me, like she fucking hated me but wanted to hate fuck me into oblivion. I’d be down for that, be a little rough with the girl, pull her hair, slap her ass, make her fucking beg for it, let her ride my cock until she tipped her head back and screamed my fucking name.

Yeah, it was probably that. I sipped my drink and chuckled to myself, already fucking hard just from thinking about her.

As I finished my drink and got up to get another one, the light on the elevator lit up, indicating that someone wanted to come inside. I went over to the panel and hit the intercom button.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” the man grunted.

“Come on then.” I hit the button and the doors dinged open.

Rafa stepped out and nodded to me. “Bull.”

“Rafa.”

“Shame I have to come here under such circumstances.”

“The girl definitely dead?”

“Afraid so.”

“Fuck,” I said, frowning.

I had tried to save the stupid girl’s life. I wasn’t just going to stand around and watch some girl OD right in front of me like all the other fucking cowards were. I got Mikey to call the mob doctor, but it was way too late at that point. I knew she was dead when the doc showed up, and Rafa just confirmed it.

He sighed. “You got a drink?”

“Help yourself.”

We walked to the bar together. I got another whisky, and he poured himself a nice, heavy-handed vodka.

We clinked glasses and drank.

“About the girl,” Rafa said. “My boss is unhappy. Apparently he liked her.”

“That’s a shame.”

“You’re going to need to pay.”

I barked out a short laugh. “It’s always fucking money with you people. That was a girl’s life, you know.”

“I’m aware of that. It was some junky whore nobody fucking cared about. Shit, she didn’t even care about herself.”

I sighed, shaking my head. I understood what he was saying, but I had a hard time putting a price tag on a woman’s fucking life. I could be callous, violent, and terrifying, but I wasn’t fucking heartless.

Close though.

“How much?” I asked.

“Another five grand.”

“Fine.” I poured two more drinks for the both of us. “To paying off the mob.”

“To a wonderful friendship.”

We clinked glasses and drank again.

“Okay then,” Rafa said. “It’s fucking late and I’m going home. You need any more cleanup?”

“Nah,” I said. “It was a small party. Close friends only.”

“You sure? No new faces?”

“One girl,” I said, not thinking. “Charley something or other. Cute as fuck. Ryan brought her.”

“The kicker? That rapist?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“You let her go home with him?”

“He’s a fucking prick, but he won’t actually force her to do anything.”

Rafa laughed. “Okay. Are you worried about her?”

“What?” I asked, realizing what I had done. “Shit, no. Not at all. Forget the girl. I’m drunk.”

“I trust you, Bull. You’ve been good to us for a long time.”

“Yeah,” I grunted.

Rafa put his glass down. “I’ll see you some other time. Drop the money at the usual spot.”

“Got it.”

Rafa went to the elevator, got in, and disappeared.

I hated fucking paying the mob to clean up my messes. I hated fucking paying the mob period, but I didn’t have too many choices anymore. And now I’d said that poor fucking girl’s name to Rafa, because I was a fucking stupid shithead.

I grunted and went back into my room. The staff was gone, the guest rooms were empty, and the apartment was quiet. I felt like I was finally able to relax for once.

I got into bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d fucked up, and I needed to fix my mistake.

I was going to have to get in touch with that girl tomorrow, at least just to make sure she was safe. It was the least I could do, considering she saw some hooker die at my own damn party.

What a shitty fucking night.