Chapter 2
Sad Eyes
I am an observer, always have been. I never made a move without first pondering it carefully, even when fighting. A teacher once told me observation was what was going to save me one day. I never believed anything out of a teacher’s mouth, doubting their every word, pitying their lessons, their imparted wisdom just the result of faith. Faith in what they had been taught, faith in what someone else had been taught before them.
I believed in what I could see.
Observation was my only form of learning and I didn’t know if it was going to save me or not one day, all I knew was that it led me to her.
I noticed her the moment I set foot back in that dump.
She stood out in the crowd, too shiny for that glum place, too innocent, too quiet. She was the exact opposite of everything you expected from a woman going to club like that one. She had the saddest pair of blue eyes I had ever seen in my life.
I couldn’t look away.
As I walked through the tables, slapping hands with people, my attention was on a group of women near the bar.
It was not unusual to see women in the club.
I had seen my fair share of women there. Usually, it was either prostitutes looking to hook up with some poor fucker- his testosterone sky rocketed, hyper over the blood he had just seen sprawl all over the ring – or some woman accompanying a gangster.
I always stayed clear of them both, waiting for women to come to me, if anything.
The last thing I wanted was to get involved with anyone. I wanted the mob out of my life.
We were in ‘The Market’ after all, the sketchiest and wildest neighbourhood in the city.
It was the place where everyone went when they were up to no good- to sell themselves on the streets, to buy junk or, in this case, for blood. If it was illegal, you could find it in ‘The Market’.
Even if the place had calmed down a bit after the match, there were still a lot of people getting drinks at the bar.
I took a seat and patiently waited for Delia, the woman behind the counter, to work her way to my side.
She spotted me almost immediately and winked, setting drinks on a tray.
“What can I get you, Killer?” she purred lifting her shoulder up a bit, her full cleavage in sight.
“Rum, Delia” I smiled a little and looked down to what she was generously showing me. Nice “Can I have some, please?”
Even if lights were dim near the bar, I could tell I had made her blush a little, her smile became so cheeky just then. She bashed her eyelids at me before turning around slowly and reaching out for the finest bottle of rum in that damn shithole.
“Coming right up” she said softly, one hand on her hip, as she poured the bronze liquid in my glass. “Anytime, anywhere, whichever way you want it, Killer” Delia gave me another sly glance and then turned to serve the two men standing beside me.
I smirked at her, as I brought the glass to my lips and then eyed the group of women, standing at the other end of the counter.
Maybe it was because they were laughing so hard, maybe it was because they stood out in their short dresses and deliciously, sweet fragrances, I couldn’t stop staring.
“Do you know who they are?” I asked Delia, pointing with my glass to the giggling women.
“Never seen them before. Looks like a hen night” Delia shook her head and bit her lips, exactly were her piercing was. I had bit that same spot several times. “Looking for more than one woman tonight?” she questioned me, seeing I kept staring at them.
I gulped down the whole glass and asked for more rum. My cheek was pulsing with life, right where my rival had hit me.
Fucker, I cursed, thinking of the one time I let him touch me, knowing for sure I would have an ugly bruise for days.
Anyone that dared touch me, always paid a hard price. And that night the Cobra– that was his fighter name- had walked out of the club with a broken arm. I had felt his bones crack when I had twisted it behind his back.
I gulped another shot of rum down my throat, without saying anything back to Delia.
She was wrong, I wasn’t looking for more than one. I wasn’t looking for a quick fuck. If I really wanted that, all I had to do was round the counter and take Delia to the storage room. Or walk through the room and get a hooker or one of the girls I saw Joe speaking to before the match.
I didn’t want women or just any woman that night. I had my eyes on one in particular.
All I wanted right there and then, was to know who Blondie was, sitting on the stool with her back to the ring.
I stared at her, sitting there emotionless, like she wanted to be someplace else, not joining in the conversation, her face glum even when she tried to smile at her friends’ jokes.
At some point, the woman turned to the side and our eyes met for an instant.
Her face stayed the same, unreadable, not even a glimpse of emotion crossed her perfect, delicate features.
I had never seen such fair skin, such a strong contrast with her thin red lips.
Even from that distance, I could tell her eyes were ice blue. With so many different shades, blue-gray to sapphire, hers were the sort of eyes hard to forget.
Blondie blinked a few times and then turned away, pretending to listen into her friends’ conversations.
She wasn’t. She wasn’t listening, I could see her looking to the side, checking me out without turning my way again.
It was just a matter of minutes, before one of her friends spotted me and gaped, leaning in to the woman beside her. She was talking fast, eager to let them all know what she had discovered.
“Excuse me” the tallest of the group approached me, walking slowly and smiling wide.
She stopped and leaned her elbow on the counter, playing with a strand of hair, as she examined me from up close. “Is it really you? The Killer?”
I nodded and gulped down the last bit of rum left in my glass, while she turned to nod to her friends.
The blonde woman was staring openly at me now, her blue eyes so bright and serious they held my full attention.
Sad Eyes -I thought, never looking away.
They were piercing and cold, I liked them on me.
“We really enjoyed the show you put up before” the woman smiled to the side and I thanked her.
“Happy you had fun”
“Can we take a picture with you? If that’s okay. It’s my hens’ night, you see” she pointed to her big fat engagement ring and I nodded again, trying to figure out how many days I could live trouble-free, by selling that fine piece of jewellery.
Years, I reckoned.
Crazy. The woman was absolutely crazy to show it off like that, in that dump. In the Market, for crying out loud. She had no idea of the danger she was getting herself into. That’s when I realized, why I kept looking at them before. They were outsiders, they weren’t from the neighbourhood. Every little thing they had on them, screamed of money and power.
Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by all these good-looking women, wrapping their arms behind my back, my shoulders. They held onto me tight and as they smiled, I could smell the sweet taste of liquor on their breathes.
They are wasted, I acknowledged.
“I’ll take the picture,” the blonde woman walked towards us, holding the camera in her hands.
“No, no,” the tall one said. “Let’s ask the woman at the bar.”
But blondie shook her head.
“I’ll do it,” and she took a few shots of us, her eyes hiding behind the camera a moment longer, as we stared at each other again.
The women giggled and took turns to kiss my cheek- two of them went all the way down to my neck- to thank me for being so kind. I let them hold on to me a second longer, while I kept my attention on blondie.
She was showing some of her friends the pictures, making sure they were okay. She seemed eager to get away.
Now that they had a picture and the match was over, they could leave- I heard her say.
“I could have sworn you were the bride to be” I said to her, before she turned to walk away from me.
“Why is that?” her voice was calm, low.
Blondie had the most sensual, raspy voice I had ever heard. It was scratchy and melodic, I was immediately intrigued. And I could tell she was not from Rome. From her accent, I could tell she was not Italian.
Eastern European.
“Your sad eyes. That would explain it,” I told her, straight to her face and she looked down, hiding the glimpse of a smile.
“Usually brides are radiant,” Blondie said and I smiled a little.
“Only if they don’t know what they are getting into,”
I watched her blink at me a few times, her face serious, her eyes dark.
Sad Eyes.
“You seem to know a lot about marriage. Are you married?” blondie asked, playing with the camera in her hands.
I shook my head. “I see married people every day. I see what they do, what they come looking for…” I said to her and I didn’t have to go into details. She knew what I meant, I could tell by how she was looking at me.
Drug addicts, prostitutes, gamblers. And the married ones are the worst sinners.
“Did you like the show?” I asked and watched her shake her head slowly.
“I didn’t even watch it.”
My eyebrows went up. Blondie was brutally honest, I gave her that.
“Why are you here then?” I pressed on “Aren’t you here for the blood?”
“Blood?”
“Everyone comes here for the blood. Admit it or not, that’s why they love to see me fight, to see us fight. They want blood.”
“Is that why you do it? Cause you are thirsty for blood?” blondie teased me, her face solemn, her eyes cold.
“No,” I shook my head and told her the truth. “I do it for money.”
“Money for blood,” she corrected me, but I spoke up fast, before I lost her attention.
“No, money to survive,” I paused. “Blood is something that happens, while I struggle to survive. That’s how things go here in The Market. You need to ‘fight’ to stay up or else you get smashed on the ground.”
“Well, I am not here for the show or for the blood. I have had too much blood shedding in my life already.”
“I know how that feels,” I said and she stopped moving. Blondie turned to look at me again. “Do you?” she tilted her head to the side and her eyes dug into mine.
I had her full attention now.
“I learned to fight on the streets,” I told her, while I nudged Delia for more rum. “And I learned it the hard way.”
The hardest way. I was the prey, the victim.
“There is no easy way,” blondie told me and I could not help agreeing with her.
There was no easy way- no easy way out of the street, no easy way out of the misery.
“You are not here for the show, not here for the blood…Why are you here then?” I pressed on. I wanted to keep her talking, her voice so hypnotic, I kept looking at her lips wanting more.
Blondie took in a deep breath before answering my question.
“Freedom,” she whispered.
“Freedom?” I repeated, stunned. Not the sort of answer I was expecting.
Nothing about blondie was common, not her voice, her looks, not even her answers.
“Yes, freedom. We never truly understand the word freedom, until we lose it. That is when we mourn it. And it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late, to take back what’s yours,” I spoke up, never looking away from her.
God, her eyes were mesmerizing. They seemed so cold and distant, and yet they burned their way into me, my stomach clenched.
Sad Eyes shook her head.
“It’s not that easy, Killer,” she said and I enjoyed the roughness of my name on her lips. “You should stay away from me, you are playing with fire.”
I smiled and just stared at her in silence for a few instants.
It was so rare to meet someone with the power to stun me like that, the way Sad Eyes was doing. Words were never an issue for me, I always knew how to snap back, always had the perfect answer ready.
“Beautiful women, angel faced like you usually are. Dangerous like fire,” I spoke my mind a smug smile spread across my face. “Do you know why they call me the Killer?” I asked and watched her shake her head, her thin, red lips sealed. “Because they say I am fearless, cold blooded.”
“People also say the most innocent face is also the deadliest,” Sad Eyes was quick to retort.
She’s good- I thought, knowing exactly what she meant.
Her looks, her delicate features lured you in. I could see why many men would have gone crazy for her, totally out of their fucking mind for her. There was something about her, that pulled you right into her lair.
Something flickered in her eyes then, I noticed her looking down to my lips for a moment before glancing away at her friends.
The girls were still drinking, talking to some men at the bar and giggling in between shots.
“You are wasting your time, Killer,” her attention back on me. “I am not your next lay, not your deal for the night.”
“I know,” I said, rubbing the liquor off my lips.
“You know? Then why are you wasting your time talking to me?” she asked, holding my stare.
I smiled a little, leaning on the bar, looking around us for a moment before speaking again.
“It’s never a waste of time to sit at a bar with a gorgeous woman like you. A man can dream, can’t he?”
Sad Eyes blinked at me, speechless. I bet she didn’t know what else to tell me, to make me back off. In truth, I hadn’t openly made a move on her, it wasn’t that simple, making a move on someone like her. Five minutes into the conversation were enough for me to realize that.
Sad Eyes was tough to impress.
“A lot of men here are probably thinking the same thing,” I went on, looking around for a moment, catching people staring at us.
How could they not? Blondie was a sight for sore eyes.
“That’s because you all share one big brain. You all think alike,” she mumbled under her breath and I chuckled, agreeing with her.
We did, most of the time. But I always thought that when it came to sex, men could be divided into two big groups: those that would do anything to get laid – even pay for the service- and those that liked to do it the good old fashion way. Follow the sparks. I wanted sex, the real thing.
“Most of the time,” I spoke my mind. “It would be a lie, if I told you I wasn’t curious to find out what your lips taste like, what your skin feels like”
What YOU taste like.
Blondie sucked in a breath and looked around, a little nervous now for the first time since I had started speaking to her.
Before she could say anything else, one of her friends wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giggling and losing her balance as she did.
Blondie held her up and guided her on the stool.
Her friends wanted to move, they wanted to change club. Maybe a strippers’ club now.
They had seen the blood, they had seen the hot men fight. It was time to see some hot men strip.
“Time to go, Andrea,” the tall ‘bride to be’ took her by the hand and winked at me, as she smiled wide.
Andrea, I made sure to remember her name, to remember those eyes- cold, blue, sad eyes.
“Maybe I’ll see you around some time, Andrea,” I waved at her friends, but kept my eyes on blondie.
“Maybe,” she mumbled and gently pulled down at her dress, as her long legs slid off the stool.
Long, sinuous, smooth as silk legs, my eyes couldn’t help but notice. I had to fight the urge to trace my fingers up and down her thighs.
There was something in the way Andrea kept staring at me, that made me want to keep her there for another minute- another word, another glance. I knew I had to keep her from walking away from me.
More, I wanted to know more about blondie, about those sad eyes.
I wanted to find out just how deadly someone so deliciously sexy like her could be.
Maybe it was the alcohol, the adrenaline still pulsing in my veins after the fight, but I knew I had to try to make her stay.
I wanted to take her upstairs with me, I wanted to make her mine. I wondered how gut clenching her moans were, how her hair smelled. I fantasized about those thighs wrapped around my hips.
“Or you could stay here. Say goodbye to your friends. Stay for another drink and enjoy your newly found freedom,” I kept my face serious this time, never looking away from her.
“I am not free,” Blondie broke it to me without sugar coating it.
“You are with someone?” I asked the obvious and watched her nod, her face glum, eyes pitch dark.
“Well, Andrea,” I began to say, while she took her clutch. Hearing me call out her name, made her head snap back up. I spoke slowly, making sure she heard every single word I was saying “If you were mine, I would make sure you smiled every day. I would never let you walk away from me without a smile on your face.”
She pursed her lips and then moved a little closer, this time her eyes weren’t so sad.
I saw fear, I saw terror in the blue darkness within them.
“It was nice meeting you, Killer,” her throaty, sexy voice came out shaky, a little broken.
She turned on her heels and was about to walk off, when I saw her turn my way again, her long blonde hair swaying behind her back.
“Are you?” Andrea asked and I tilted my head to the side a little.
“What?”
“Cold blooded?” she asked and I shook my head slowly at her.
“Nothing is what it seems,” I told her and saw her nod.
Then, she walked over to her friends at the end of the counter without saying another word.
“Hey, man,” Joe said, patting my shoulder. “I have the money from your winnings and look at that,” he pointed behind his shoulder but I hardly turned to look.
I was still eyeing Andrea, as she and her friends were making their way to the exit.
Three girls were standing at the other end of the counter, waving and giggling.
“What do you say we take the ‘winnings’ to my place, huh?” Joe smiled wide.
They waved at me and I nodded.
It was like any other night. First fighting, then fucking.
But I barely even looked at the girls. I kept my eyes on Andrea as she walked out of the club and I noticed two dark men, dressed in black follow her out.