Chapter Thirteen
Sometimes when I’m
angry, I have the right to
be angry, but that doesn’t
give me the right to
be cruel.
Unknown
Holy fucking shit.
I stare at the woman behind John before glancing back at the woman beside me, stunned by their resemblance. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on. I narrow my eyes at John, who rolls his.
He’s fucking doppelgangers now?
And judging by his protective stance over the woman behind him, she’s the one he wants. And everything starts to click into place. John fucked Red Junior when he couldn’t have Red Senior, and Red Junior…
Young.
Smart.
Gorgeous.
With a man old enough to be her grandfather? A man with no personality other than cranky douche.
And that’s coming from a cranky douche.
I’ve seen this a million times before while living in Andretti territory. Hell, I see this all over New York, too, and I don’t even get out much.
Red Junior is a gold digger.
Interesting…
There has to be a story behind that. Any other time, and I would be curious to know. When I want to know something, I don’t stop until I figure it out. But right now, I have more important things to deal with.
Namely, the scumbag whose meaty leg I have clutched in my hand.
“John,” I greet coldly.
I may use him from time to time, but it doesn’t mean I like him.
He eyes Red Junior uneasily before saying, “I got your text. What’s up?”
“We’re waiting on Dex.”
“Cameras?” he asks, referring to the system the three of us have installed all over a five block radius.
I nod, and the four of us sink into silence before a black car turns slowly onto the street. I use my foot to subtly push the attacker onto the ground, behind a parked car and out of view from the driver of the black car.
I keep the bottom of my shoe over the guy’s mouth, so he can’t speak out. Weakened from the pain and blood loss, he doesn’t bother fighting me. I hear a scandalized gasp coming from Red Senior, but everyone ignores her.
I tense the closer the car approaches, my hand automatically reaching for one of the guns tucked into my clothes. But when I see the black and white Uber sticker on the window shield of the car, I relax. Slightly.
“You called an Uber?” I ask Red Junior.
She nods, avoiding eye contact with Red Senior and John. And without a word, she gets into the car as soon as it pulls up in front of us. Less than ten seconds later, she and the car are out of sight.
I lift my foot off of the attacker, who struggles to sit upright but makes no further move beyond that.
“What happened?” asks John, eyeing the attacker on the floor as soon as the car turns the corner.
I stare pointedly at Red Senior behind him and remain silent.
John sighs. “She’s cool.”
I keep my mouth shut, because he should know me better than that by now.
My caution knows no limits.
They’ve been with me for more than five years, but I still scan my security guards for wires and bugs whenever they change shifts—not because I don’t trust them, but because people are flawed and have weaknesses, and I refuse to let them take me down, too.
To be fair, I’m not an exception to that rule either.
I had a weakness, and his name was Ranie. Back then, if someone held him over my head, I would have been reduced to a pawn, doing anything to assure his safety. Hell, the mess I’m in right now exists for that very reason.
Plus, considering I’ve been killing people for money for years, I’m probably the most flawed of them all. And worst of all, I’m the type to contemplate about my flaws, and living in hiding means I have a lot of time to do so.
That’s why I hate being around Asher. Being around him makes me feel like I’m too flawed, like I’m doing life wrong. Asher has lived my life. He’s studied under the tutelage of mafia royalty. He’s lived the life of a fixer.
These are all things I’ve done, too. The difference? He came out on top, and I haven’t. Perhaps I never will. So yeah, I’ll help him out. After all, he’s a decent guy, and he’s done a lot for me. But I draw the line at hanging out with him, even though he never hesitates to extend an invitation.
Because whenever I look at him, I see what I’m not.
But worst of all?
I see what I can be.
It takes about ten minutes for Dex to get his dick out of some girl and send her on her way.
But until then, John, Red Senior and I wait. And after the first four trying minutes of listening to the asshole on the ground moan out in pain, I clock him roughly on the back of the head with the base of my trusty Smith and Wesson, knocking him out cold.
That earns me a shocked gasp from Red Senior.
John pats her reassuringly on the shoulder, whispers something into her ear that makes her smile, and glares at me. “Did you have to do it like that, Niccolaio?”
“Nick,” I correct absentmindedly. I look at my Smith and Wesson with a frown before tucking it back into my jeans, safely positioned beside my beautiful Colt, which has an intricate drawing of a cobra etched into its handle. “And yeah. I didn’t want to get his germs on my Colt.”
After all, I like the Colt better than the Smithy. I trusted it more, and more importantly, it came from better stock.
John rolls his eyes, and the three of us stand together in silence again. I scan the streets, keeping my eye out for any more low lives, while I lightly kick the guy on the ground to see if he’s still out.
I wouldn’t partner up with this sad sack of shit for a billion dollars, but who knows?
Some idiot might have.
If so, he might still be out there.
And that has me on alert, until finally, Dex emerges from his front door with a tiny brunette stumbling behind him. She’s dressed in a slinky dress with one of Dex’s suit jackets over her thin shoulders. A few seconds later, a car similar to the one that picked Red Junior up pulls up to the curb.
Dex opens the door for the girl, who leans back to give him a sloppy kiss. He pats her roughly on the ass and shuts the door for her once she slides herself into the backseat of the car. He has a carefree smirk on his face when he casually walks our way.
Once Dex notices that John is out here, too, he asks, “Cameras?”
I nod, and the two of us stare at Red Senior, who stares at John.
Sighing, John says, “Fine. Give us a moment.”
I reach down and grab the unconscious guy’s leg. Dex and I walk up to my brownstone with the guy dragging on the ground behind us. In the background, we faintly hear Red Senior huff in protest before silently entering John’s place.
I wait for John to join us before I press some buttons on the new security system. After a quick retinal and hand scan, the little gadget on the door handle pricks my skin, drawing a drop of blood. After it analyzes it, the door opens on its own, and the three of us step in.
I drop the guy’s leg and wave for John and Dex to stay back as I walk down the hall, the floor sensors picking up my gait print, and disarm the security system for John and Dex to follow after me.
Dex eyes the guy on the ground before sighing and reluctantly grabbing his leg. Even with his relatively above average build, Dex struggles to pull the attacker’s weight behind him. When he, the attacker and John pass the entry hallway after closing the door, I quickly rearm the security system.
Dex drops the guy’s leg beside me. “Overkill,” he decides, which is probably saying something, since he lives and breathes tech. He even has a stellar, top notch security system of his own.
“Necessary,” I counter in the same tone, not commenting on the very relevant fact that I have a five million dollar bounty on my head, courtesy of one pissed off, unforgiving and ignorant little brother.
They don’t need to know that.
If they find out, they’ll probably vote me off the island out of self-preservation.
And then, I’d have to kill them for pissing me off.
And I actually like Dex.
John? Not so much. He kind of just takes up space and air.
“Heads of countries don’t even have this level of home security,” John adds.
I eye him coldly and deadpan, “Maybe I’m more important.”
John remains silent, but Dex snorts, and the three of us head into my security room. I don’t even have to say anything, and Emmett and Ryker, the two guards in the room, are already getting up and leaving the room to deal with the unconscious guy laying on the floor of my foyer. I send them a quick text, letting them know to take care of the trail of blood on the street, too.
I sit on the chair before the computer and pull up the software for our street security system. When the three of us had it installed by one of Dex’s tech guys, we agreed to have the system operate out of my home.
It’s the one least likely to be breached.
The system also only opens up when all three of us enter the password. This is a safety mechanism we added for our privacy and protection, so we don’t spy on one another, not that it would stop me. It also guarantees that we only check it when we all agree it’s needed.
Having hidden cameras placed all over several blocks of New York City definitely violates a shit ton of federal and state privacy laws, but it’s necessary when we live the lives we lead. We all have our own security feeds on the street, but with this system, I’ll be able to track where the attacker came from and what he was doing before he reached our street.
The caveat?
Though Dex is hardly innocent, he, of all people, thought it necessary to enact an added layer of protection when he installed the system. Protection from us. And that means that every time I need to use it, I have to call these fucks to join me.
I enter in my passcode, a series of random numbers, and stand up from my seat for John and Dex to do the same. When they’re done, they leave me to work, giving me the power of an all knowing god.
And for a brief, startling moment, I’m tempted to abuse it.
I’m tempted to use it to learn more about Red Junior, and I have no clue as to why.
Maybe Dex was right.
People need protection from us.
From me.