Parker
My knee cracks as I stand, the effort working my stiff muscles. I’ve been watching her for days now. Not that she’s noticed. I’ve been discreet, but I sure as shit ain’t been hiding. Yet nothing, not even a curious glance in my direction.
Working out her routine was easy enough. Aside from work, she’s a homebody. She doesn’t have a man, or many friends even. She sticks to herself. She’s in no way closed off, or seemingly disappointed by her lack of a social life. She’s content. Happy even.
I’ve been sitting for close to an hour watching her work. Watching her smile. Watching her laugh. Watching the easy happiness in which she lives. I resent her for that. Begrudge how carefree and simple her life must be, how lacking of torment or turmoil it is. That life could’ve been mine, should’ve been mine. Instead, while she prances through her existence with a large smile and happy eyes, I’ve been fighting against being swallowed up by hell. For eighteen years.
I move closer to the shop window, shoulder leaning casually against a pillar, seemingly relaxed to passers-by. If only they knew the truth. If only they could see my mind’s eye, working tirelessly behind the scenes as I stand here, nonchalant and indifferent.
From the pictures Rocco showed me, I knew what she looked like before my stakeout began. But seeing her in the flesh, it’s obvious the image didn’t do her justice. Not by a long shot.
I’ve had my fair share of women. Some smokin’, others not as much. I’ve found over the years that hot women are a dime a dozen. Beauty, real beauty, the untouchable kind, it’s rare. Manufactured for consumers, sure, marketing assholes trying in vain to recreate the unrivaled beauty of someone like her.
Like Codi Rein.
Codi’s allure is one hundred percent real. She’s flawless. Skin tone like creamed butter; smooth and honeyed. Her hair naturally highlighted, strands a perfected array of differing shades of blonde. It hits her shoulders, soft waves hanging loosely and dancing around her face. I can’t see her eyes from this far away, but I know they’re blue, so dark they flash purple. Her body is tight, and I mean tight. Skin pulled firmly over svelte curves.
She’s a wet dream come to life. And I get to play with her. Well, that’s what I’ve decided anyway. This wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. It was a straight-forward plan. Watch her for a bit, learn her routine and when the timing was right, move forward with our plan.
Now though, it seems such a waste. I’m hoping Rocco will be cool with me going off path. Let me have some fun with the sweetness of Codi Rein before her family gets what’s coming to them.
I pull the door of the shop open, the warmth of inside hitting me like a wall. She looks up at the small bell that chimes as I enter, watching my approach.
“Hiya, handsome.”
Her smile is so big it breaks her face, stretching her lips in a way that turns them from red to a bruised pink. It’s genuine, her smile. Kind, and I pause momentarily considering that I’ve never smiled like that. Genuinely. Don’t get me wrong, I fake the fuck out of a grin when I need it. But it ain’t ever real, not like hers.
Her head tips to the side, my silence making her uncertain, but her smile stays intact, not even the slightest waver in the gesture as she considers me. She’s not concerned by my rough appearance. Not in the least. My ink, thick muscles and bruised and cut skin not causing her any discomfort. Not in the way it should. She should be nervous. Anxious by my severe disposition. Instead, I see only kindness, intrigue even.
I shake my head, pulling myself back to the moment, forcing myself to remember why I’m here.
I blink slowly, purposefully pushing my tongue out to wet my lips. Her focus drops to my lips, as silently instructed and I let her gaze run along my mouth, my teeth chewing my bottom lip.
Clearing my throat, I massage the back of my neck heavily, feigning nerves I don’t feel.
“Walk past this place every day, ain’t ever seen you before.”
She pulls her eyes from my lips, reluctantly, and I mentally fist bump myself.
Success.
“I’ve never seen you either, handsome. Worked here for a few years too.” A quiet flirtation dances in her tone as her eyes skirt around the shop before settling back on me.
“Kickin’ myself I haven’t laid eyes on you sooner.”
She ducks her head, working to hide the shy smile on her pretty face. When she lifts it again, her pleased embarrassment shows in the shaded blush lightening her creamy complexion. She lets her eyes track over my body; my bulking biceps visible under my short-sleeved shirt, along the ink decorating my arms down to my hands, now tucked deep into the pockets of my jeans. Her eyes drop to my heavy boots, then back up to my face, absorbed interest peaking as she drags her gaze along the bruise of my eye socket, the generous graze along the line of my jaw.
“That so?” She finally speaks, her palms leaning onto the counter as she leans toward me.
I force my fake as fuck grin onto my face and she buys it, returning the gesture. I don’t answer her question. It’s unnecessary. My smile does that for me.
“So, you come in here to tell me that or you buying somethin’?”
I glance around the small store, across the limited displays of clothing and bark out a laugh. “I ain’t buyin’ anything.”
She bites her bottom lip, hiding the pleased smile that crosses her face and I rock back on my heels as I watch her.
“You got a man?”
She startles at my question, laughing awkwardly. “Umm…. Not sure that’s a question you dive right into, handsome. You don’t even know my name.”
I lift my shoulders in dismissal. “Just need to know if I need to kill anyone before I ask your name.”
She laughs then, her face turning to the side as the sing-song sound echoes into the sparse space. “You don’t need to kill anyone.”
I wink at her and she shakes her head, amused by my strange behavior.
I wait another moment, watching her silently. Content that I’ve planted myself firmly into her intrigue, I turn on my heel, walking on heavy feet to the door of the shop.
“That’s it?”
I pause, hand outstretched as I reach to push on the glass. Looking over my shoulder, I wink. “For now.”
She coughs out a laugh, shaking her head in disappointment. “You’re not even gonna ask me my name?”
Hand on the glass, I push, a small bell chiming overhead. “Nah, ain’t no fun in that, Sugar.”
“No fun in what?”
“Knowin’ too much too soon,” I throw out, walking my feet through the door and letting it close behind me. Without looking back, I walk toward home with a confidence that might be presumptuous. But fuck, this is gonna be easy, far simpler than I thought, and a whole lot more fun too.
Throwing my keys onto the entry table, I scratch a hand down my face.
“We close to locking this down?”
I turn at Rocco’s rough statement, irritated at the demand in the sound.
He’s shirtless, body rippling with just-used muscle, his skin slick with a thick sheen of sweat. He seems calm, well Rocco type calm and I surmise he’s just been boxing, working to relieve the tension that coils tightly in his body. Anger. Everything he does is driven by cold hard fury. Revenge. I get it. I do. I understand his want for blood. For vengeance. It doesn’t overtake my body and mind in the way it does him. But I still feel it running through my veins. Shit, our father made sure of that.
I nod, answering his question and his head moves up and down in appreciation, the hard lines around his mouth giving slightly. “Good.”
“Listen,” I start, and he watches me expectantly, one thick eyebrow raised. “I was thinking if you’re cool with it, I might play with her a little while. Can’t hurt to have a bit of fun first,” I shrug.
He doesn’t say anything, not straight away, but after a moment’s pause, a sick, twisted smile forms along his face.
“There’s hope for you after all. She’s hot,” he states, both eyebrows rising this time in playful appreciation.
I cough out a laugh. “Fuck yeah, she’s hot. Thought, why not? May as well taste her brand of sweet before she goes to ground.”
He nods as I speak, eyes focused elsewhere in contemplative thought. “This’ll change our plan. People see you around, we won’t be able to deny the connection.” He pauses, cracking his knuckles to focus his mind. “Probably can’t be as brutal or as obvious as we initially wanted.”
I cringe internally at whatever brutality Rocco was considering but work to keep my face neutral, not wanting him to doubt my commitment, my thirst for revenge.
“I’ll think about it, but I like this idea better. Like the fact that you’ll use her up.” His face lightens with excitement, his eyes dancing with his psychotic thoughts. “When are you seeing her again?”
Using my thumbs, I push down on my index fingers to hear the crack of my knuckles. “I don’t know,” I throw out. “I’ll show up again tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Not sure yet.”
He growls, nostrils flaring as he steps closer. Our height is on par, but he’s bigger than me. Easy. Result of countless hours in the gym or the ring.
“Ain’t a game, Park. You can have your fun. But not for long. Don’t drag this shit out, we’ve waited long enough.”
I push his chest, not intimidated by his festering anger. “You look like Codi Rein, you get every fucker from here to Cali vying for your attention. I’m gonna play a different game.”
He backs off, his eyes skeptical as he waits for me to continue.
“Do I look like the type of guy that walks into some rich bitch shop asking for a date?”
A smile quirks at his lips as he takes in my bruised face and I shake my head in amusement. “You need to fuckin’ chill, Roc. I told you, I’m in on this. Just thought, playin’ with her for a bit, we’d get a little somethin’ extra. Well I’d get the extra.” I smile and he shakes his head on an amused sigh. “Trust me when I tell you, Codi Rein, right now, I’m all she’s thinkin’ about.”
He steps back into my space, his large inked hand grabbing my jaw roughly. “Ah, that pretty face has to be good for somethin’, huh?”
I push him back again. “You’re just jealous I pull more pussy than you.”
His neck tips back, bringing the flames inked into the side of his neck into full view as he laughs. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, dollface.”
I flip him off, moving toward my room, my Xbox calling. Plans to lose myself in hours of mindless blood and violence a temptation too good to pass up.
“Yo, Parker.” I stop when I hear Rocco’s voice, glancing over my shoulders to meet his eyes. “You got good inside you, kid. Don’t let that fuck with your mind. We have a plan, don’t let this bitch’s dimples play on your conscience.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, disappearing down the hall of our loft without another look in my direction.
“Bitch doesn’t have fuckin’ dimples,” I mumble to myself, irritated in his lack of belief in my ability to actually pull this off.
I get it. He’s the psycho. The brother fueled with rage after living in the hell our dad rained upon us. Him definitely worse than me. Doesn’t mean I’m weak. And it sure as shit doesn’t mean I don’t have the guts to pull this off.
Dominic Rein will feel pain like he can’t imagine. He will know what it feels like to have his heart ripped from his chest. He’ll know what it’s like to try and fight to survive in the cold, hard depths of hell.
Only he’ll lose.