CLAIMING HIS PRIZE
Killer of Kings, 5
Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
Chains was hungry.
No, starving.
He needed food.
After all the shit that went down with Shadow and Boss at Killer of Kings, he’d decided to take a vacation. He didn’t want, nor did he need, any shit in his life right now. At times, being a killer took a toll on a man, and he wasn’t a fool. His kill ratio rivaled many of the killers he associated with. Of course, Boss had overtaken all of them with the slaughter he’d just done based on a mafia mark.
Rubbing the back of his shaved head, Chains entered a shitty looking diner. He’d have preferred a restaurant, one that served Russian food, but right now he couldn’t be picky. Taking a seat in the back of the diner, he grabbed the well-worn menu and looked over the choices. Of course, it was all greasy burgers and stuff more suited to a fifties-style menu.
His cell phone buzzed, and he glanced down to see it was Boss.
The fucker was alive and well, not that he would ever doubt him. If anyone could get out of a hit, it would be Boss.
Turning off his cell phone, he placed it back in his pocket. He’d already left word for Boss to know he intended to have some time off. No killing.
To get this … burning under control.
The rage inside him had begun to simmer midway through this latest mission, watching Shadow with Riley. He didn’t know what it was all about, and he didn’t care either. All he knew was when he wanted to kill those he worked with, he had to leave.
So far, Viper, Bain, Killian, and now Shadow had each fallen for a woman. Hardened killers became weak when they chose to bring a woman into their lives. Killers shouldn’t have women. They always had a “use by” date, and if one of their enemies heard of a way to take them out, their women would be the first to go. It was why he never allowed himself to take any pleasure other than in the women he paid for. The whores on the streets wanted his money, and he only required a quick release.
If he didn’t feel like fucking one of the streetwalkers, he’d found plenty of escorts and agencies willing to give him what he wanted.
He didn’t want love.
Glancing around the diner, he saw several families eating. One of them had that very prim and proper American look with crisp white shirts, the kind they wore to church.
He stared at them, knowing how looks could be deceiving. In his line of work, he’d seen a lot of shit. He’d seen stuff that had sickened him to the core.
One of the worst things was the child trafficking rings. Boys and girls sold for a fortune to meet the demands of the depraved perverts that wanted them. After seeing some of the victims, he’d made a vow to always defend them. If he ever caught sight of anything going down, he checked it out, and was sure to make an example of the people who thought they could use vulnerable children.
After surviving one of the worst childhoods imaginable, Chains learned from a young age the horrors that awaited in the big wild world. He’d been an unlucky bastard, being thrust into one of the worst Russian orphanages.
Every one of them had to learn to survive, and that hadn’t been the worst of it. The people who claimed to protect them had enabled the abuse. He’d been in a mixed gender orphanage, and the girls that were there, they had it a lot worse than the boys. They were trained to shut up and take it.
As a child, seeing the damage those girls faced at the hands of men, he’d taken a personal dislike to anyone who harmed a child.
“Hey, sorry it took me so long. What can I get you?”
The feminine voice brought his attention around to the woman standing in front of him. He’d seen her enter five minutes ago. Her head was bent over her notepad, and she was on the chubby side. The uniform she wore was too tight, some of the buttons gaping around her impressive cleavage.
Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she looked pale. He couldn’t get a good look at her, and Chains wanted to look at her.
“What’s good here?”
He’d long ago lost any of his Russian accent, and only when he was angry did it show. Right now, he looked and sounded like any American businessman. He always preferred suits. To him they’d symbolized the sign of power, where the real money was.
“The cheeseburger’s good. I, erm, I wouldn’t go for the chicken though.”
“Oh, why not?”
The girl, Lori, her badge said, looked behind her, and he saw her nerves show through. “He doesn’t always cook it all the way, and it can make you sick.”
She still hadn’t looked up, and he didn’t like that she was avoiding eye contact.
Putting his hand at his side where his gun rested, he wondered if any of his enemies had followed him. He could never be too cautious in his line of work.
Lori sniffled and leaned to the side, expelling a little cough. She sounded sick.
“I’m so sorry.” She cleared her throat, and she finally looked up at him.
The bruise covering her left eye twisted his gut.
His gaze unnerved her as she quickly arranged the hair covering her eye. “What can I get you?”
The bruise looked recent. “You know, boyfriends that do that don’t deserve you, right?”
“What?” she asked.
He pointed to his eye as he looked at her. “The eye. You really shouldn’t stick around with a guy like that.”
Her cheeks heated, and she shook her head. “Oh, this isn’t from a boyfriend.”
Okay, now he didn’t like where this was going.
“I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, cheeseburger, right?”
Chains watched as she quickly wrote down the order. He wasn’t about to dispute her.
“What’s your last name?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a curious customer.”
She took a deep breath, and shrugged. “Dean. Lori Dean.” She walked away, and he watched her go before grabbing his cell phone.
Turning it back on, he put a call in to Maurice. He didn’t like that she didn’t put up enough of a fight. Didn’t she have a clue what a guy could do with her name, and only her name?
“What do you want?” Maurice asked.
“Is that any way to greet me?”
“Boss doesn’t have any jobs right now, and it seems his employees like to use my services for their personal benefit.”
“You make a lot of money from it,” Chains said, reminding him of the extortionate fee he charged. He knew for a fact Maurice didn’t charge Boss half as much.
“A guy’s got to make a living somehow.”
He rolled his eyes. “I want you to find out everything you can about a Lori Dean. Looks young, twentyish.” He told him the name of the diner where she worked.
“Fine.”
Maurice hung up without even saying goodbye. Pocketing his cell phone, Chains watched Lori as she moved from table to table. Her wide hips had a natural sway, mesmerizing him.
She came back with a large pot of coffee. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Who gave you the shiner?”
Lori poured him some coffee and tutted. “You know that’s rude to ask a lady.”
“Yeah, well I think it’s rude for a guy to hit a woman.” He saw her tense up, and he hated that he made her nervous. It wasn’t his intention.
She kept a good distance from him. Clearly, her instincts were entirely correct. He wasn’t a good guy, had never been a good guy, and never would be a good guy.
“I ordered you the cheeseburger with ordinary fries. I hope that’s okay.” She handed him back his coffee.
“You don’t have to be nervous.”
“It’s not exactly normal for a guy to be so interested in my bruise.”
“Very true, but I’m not a normal guy. I never promised I was.” He offered her a smile, hoping he looked harmless. Hard to do when he’d killed people without blinking.
“Right. Enjoy your coffee.”
He watched her every move, and he admired her nice, round ass as she walked away. Ten minutes later she came back with his plate of food, and she left him to eat.
Maurice got back to him, along with a bill twice as much as he was expecting. Chains paid him by instant transfer, and opened up the file on his cell phone.
It always amazed him what Maurice could do with a name and a couple of clues. There wasn’t anything anyone could hide from the hacker.
Lori Dean, twenty-five years old, came from a big family, and by big, he was talking one of ten siblings.
She was poor, dirt poor, and Maurice had also included a warning. The neighborhood where she lived had a known pimp who liked to beat the shit out of the women.
Just seeing that warning made Chains angry.
He knew how she’d gotten the bruise, and it had just sealed Lori’s fate.
****
Lori stared at her reflection, and slowly ran her finger underneath her eye, wincing as she did. It hurt being hit, and, checking to make sure the door was locked, she slowly opened her very tight uniform. She’d asked several times for a larger size, but her boss wouldn’t budge. He told her men liked to see tits on display.
If she could get a job elsewhere she’d have been gone already, but in this day and age, she couldn’t be picky about where she worked. At least she didn’t have to screw anyone.
Bruises covered her ribcage, and it hurt for her to take a deep breath. Her ribs weren’t broken, but she was in so much pain.
This was what happened when you told Carlton Riggs “no”. She wasn’t an idiot. Carlton Riggs was a pimp, drug dealer, small arms dealer, asshole, bastard, and just everything that was bad in the world.
A couple of the girls she’d gone to school with had thought they’d been the ones to catch his eye, only to find themselves pregnant, and at his mercy. He didn’t treat the mothers of his children any differently. To get any kind of money from him, they had to do it on their backs, serving anyone who’d have them, screwing travelers in the backs of cars, or serving men he wanted to entertain.
She’d seen the two girls she’d gone to school with the other day, and instead of looking like healthy twenty-five-year-olds, they looked twenty years older, and were miserable.
Carlton was also the reason for her bruised face and ribs.
Her parents loved fucking like rabbits, and because of that, they had a family of twelve. She had some older brothers, but none of them cared about feeding the younger kids that were still in school. She did. At the grocery store, she’d bumped into Carlton, where he’d promised her easy cash.
Once again, she’d turned him down. She didn’t want to be a whore. Her body was her own, and it still filled her with pride that she was a virgin, even at twenty-five. Being around sex all of her life, she’d not been in any hurry to lose her V-card, and was happy with it.
She was going to hurt for another few days, so she buttoned up her uniform, tied back her brown hair, and left the bathroom.
Entering the kitchen, she saw George, the owner and cook, staring out at the seating area.
“That guy in the suit. Makes sure he gets everything he wants. Show him a smile, and he’ll tip you good. Didn’t he want the chicken?”
He didn’t see her wince. George never cooked chicken for long enough, and whenever she could, she always advised their customers not to order it. She was surprised the health department hadn’t closed them down.
She’d warned him about it, and he told her to shut her trap, that she didn’t have the first clue what she was talking about.
Seeing as she needed the job, she did shut her mouth, and just kept on doing what she did best, serving customers, and faking a smile and happiness.
“He didn’t want the chicken.”
“Do you think he’ll want the pie?” he asked.
“I don’t know. He’s still eating, so I’ll wait to go and check.”
She took the refilled pot of coffee, and as she went to pass George, he grabbed her arm, stalling her.
“I don’t want to scare away the customers. Your face isn’t going to bring trouble here, is it?”
“No. It won’t.”
“I mean it, Lori. I’m not interested in getting into trouble.”
“You won’t. I promise.” She stared at his hand on her, and he released her.
She didn’t see Carlton coming here. If she did, she’d no longer work here anyway, as she wanted to be far away from where she grew up. Lori had only been in the old neighborhood grocery store to get food for her younger siblings. They were always on her mind, even though the youngest was now a teenager.
Carlton tended to stay around the streets that he controlled rather than venture out. She worried about her younger sisters, always warning them to steer clear of Carlton and his gang.
Leaving the kitchen, she made her way to one table where a little girl asked her for a chocolate milkshake. She put the coffee pot down, made the milkshake, and smiled at the young girl, remembering being that girl.
Whenever she was out with her brothers and sisters she’d always tried to get them treats if she could afford it. Most of her wages had gone to her parents back then, not that they seemed to remember her. She’d put the money in the pot in the kitchen, where they always stored their money. Half the time she was sure her parents forgot she even existed between all of their kids. It was lonely.
Lori continued her rounds. She held the coffee up. “Would you like some more coffee?”
“Yes.” The man in the suit put his cup in front of him, and she poured him some coffee.
“Why is your cook constantly staring at me? Did he spit in my food?”
She smiled. “No. He didn’t spit in your food. He wants to know if you’d like a piece of pie, and he wants me to smile a lot at you for an extra tip.”
Even though he had a shaved head, she found him to be incredibly handsome. A cross between Dwayne Johnson and Vin Diesel, but his own unique look. The suit couldn’t hide the muscles it covered. His arms were huge. She was sure they were as big as her thighs, and being the fat girl, she had large, chunky thighs.
“Is his pie worth it?”
“I’d go for his cherry pie. It’s really nice with vanilla ice cream.”
Her stomach chose that moment to growl, and heat filled her cheeks. She hadn’t eaten that day, and she was now suffering for it.
“Take a fry,” he said.
“No, that’s your food.”
“Lori, do me a favor and eat the fry. I’ll have the pie with the ice cream, but I won’t if you don’t eat.”
She rolled her eyes, and took a fry. Biting down, she appreciated the sweet gesture even though the fry was completely cold.
“And another one.”
“Don’t you want to eat?” she asked.
“I’ve been told I’m getting pie.”
She chuckled, and took another fry. After standing with him for a few minutes, she held her hands up. “I’ve got to go and give coffee to others. I hope you enjoy your meal.”
“I’m enjoying the company more.”
Was he flirting with her?
She didn’t know, as she was a plain girl and rarely did anyone flirt with her. She was the kind of woman that everyone overlooked, bland and not important.
“You can come and sit with me if there’s a lull.”
This new customer kept trying to tempt her to spend some time with him, and each time, she refused. George would skin her alive if she sat down on the job.
She looked behind her as he watched her, and she liked his gaze on her body. In a weird kind of way, she felt him actually look at her, seeing her for who she was. The attention was nice for a change.
No one really took a good, long look or cared enough to see her.
Lori didn’t know his name, and once he left, she knew she’d never see him again.
Serving the rest of the customers, she actually felt like smiling even with her bruised eye.
She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been happy.
It wouldn’t last, but for now, she’d keep those depressing thoughts aside.
George already had the pie and ice cream ready, and she served the man. She didn’t know the man’s name, but being near him made her feel happy, safe, and at times a little scared. There was something about the way he looked at her. The intense look that made her think of a wolf with a sheep in his sights.
Those nerves kept her at a distance.
Of course, he didn’t stay forever, and she found herself glancing toward where he’d been sitting, wondering who he was, his name, everything. The empty booth brought out one of those fleeting moments of regret that she squashed just as quickly as it came.
The rest of her shift went by without any hiccups. No one else flirted with her or wanted to know her better. She went through the motions until it was time to clock off.
She grabbed her bags, and was about to leave the diner, not paying attention to anything, until George called her back.
“I don’t suppose you’d throw this outside in the dumpster?” He held up a large black garbage bag.
George would never be a gentleman, but not wanting to piss off her boss, she took the bag and lugged it into the darkened alley.
She hated the back alley, especially at night. It reminded her of every horror movie she’d ever watched. As she threw the bag in to the trash, she gasped as someone wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a cloth against her nose.
Panic washed over her, and she fought, screaming. With every passing second, her body grew lax, and then little by little, her eyes closed as sleep claimed her.