Vengeance E-Book

Russell Nohelty

• Herausgeber: Wannabe Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Loyalty is a commodity and betrayal lies around every corner.
Bound by a blood oath to the ruthless mob boss, Lucius spent his life executing orders without question…
…But his next mission threatens to unravel his strict moral code. Haunted by the specter of his past and the woman who once softened his heart, he must decide whether to fulfill his contract or risk everything for a chance at redemption.
As the clock ticks down, Lucius journeys through the dark underbelly of the criminal world, where loyalty is fleeting and vengeance is the only currency. With each step, he edges closer to a confrontation that could either free him from his shackles or condemn him to damnation.
"Vengeance" is a gripping tale of moral ambiguity, love lost, and the price of loyalty in a world where justice is often painted in shades of gray.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

ALSO BY RUSSELL NOHELTY

Vengeance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Author note

ALSO BY RUSSELL NOHELTY

THE OBSIDIAN SPINDLE SAGA

The Sleeping Beauty

The Wicked Witch

The Fairy Queen

The Red Rider

THE GODVERSE CHRONICLES

And Death Followed Behind Her

And Doom Followed Behind Her

And Ruin Followed Behind Her

And Hell Followed Behind Her

And Conquest Followed Behind Them

And Darkness Followed Behind Her

And Chaos Followed Behind Them

Katrina Hates the Dead

Pixie Dust

OTHER NOVEL WORK

My Father Didn’t Kill Himself

Sorry for Existing

Gumshoes: The Case of Madison’s Father

The Invasion Saga

The Vessel

Worst Thing in the Universe

The Void Calls Us Home

The Marked Ones

OTHER ILLUSTRATED WORK

The Little Bird and the Little Worm

Ichabod Jones: Monster Hunter

Gherkin Boy

www.russellnohelty.com

Vengeance

By:

Russell Nohelty

Edited by:

Jonas Saul

Proofread by:

Lily Luchesi

Toni Cox

Cover by:

Melody Simmons

––––––––

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. Vengeance. First edition. July 2022. Copyright © 2024 Russell Nohelty. Written by Russell Nohelty.

Chapter 1

Tyler’s teeth rattled against the barrel of Lucius’s gun as he begged for his life. Lucius had heard the pleas from better men than Tyler before, though that bar was so low that even a baby could crawl over it with ease.

“Do you know much about the philosophy of Ayn Rand, Ty?” Lucius asked, adding gravel and base to his voice so even the most cursory sentence still made a man’s hair stand on end. For his part, Tyler just kept blubbering, snot trailing down his face, mixing with the heavy tears that soaked his cheeks.

“It’s not polite to ignore someone when they’re talking to you.” Lucius shook the gun ever so slightly, and Tyler jumped to attention. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

Tyler’s eyes widened as he looked into Lucius’s purple eyes, a chromic anomaly that Lucius had always wondered if he had inherited from his parents. Since his parents abandoned him on his boss’s doorstep as a child, he never got a chance to find out, which always niggled at him when he looked at himself in the mirror.

Lucius went still as he peered at Tyler’s bland brown eyes, waiting for an answer that never came. It was incredible how pathetic men became when you stuck a gun in their mouths. All that bravado fell away in an instant.

“There’s still an off chance you’ll live through this, but not if you ignore me. Do you understand that?” Another long, whimpering silence until Lucius took the gun out of Tyler’s mouth and smacked him across the forehead with the butt of it. “Look at me! Do. You. Understand?”

Tyler took a deep breath, rubbed his head, and slowly nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. Now answer the goddamn question. Did your mother teach you manners? Use your words like a big boy.”

“Yes,” Tyler said, eyeing the gun that hovered a few feet from him. Lucius may have removed it from Tyler’s mouth, but it was still aimed at his head. “My mother taught me manners. Is this really what you want to ta—”

“I ask the questions, Ty,” Lucius growled. This was his favorite part. The clean-up was messy, but he reveled in playing this part. “But at least we’re getting somewhere. Now, do you know the philosophy of Ayn Rand?”

“Not really, no. I’ve heard of her, but—”

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, cutting Tyler off. “I asked if you knew of her philosophy.” Tyler curtly shook his head. “Then let me elucidate for you, here in the tenuous last minutes of your life. Maybe if you get out of this, you’ll look her up. Either way, you will have learned something. You see, Ayn Rand believed in objectivism. Do you know what that is?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I didn’t think so. That’s okay. That’s why I’m teaching you right now. Objectivism is the belief that humans exist for themselves, acting totally on reason to determine their best course of action. It’s pretty bleak if you ask me.”

Tyler furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, aren’t you a fucking hitman?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Can a hitman not read philosophy?” Lucius thought for a moment, though he already knew what to say. He was just drawing it out a bit before he dropped the hammer, first metaphorically, then literally. If Tyler thought he could really get out of this, then he was more likely to play along. Lucius had already brought down the hammer. Now, he had to use the stick. “It’s bleak because it presupposes that emotions have nothing to do with decision-making, and I have always believed that most humans make decisions based on emotions, not reason. It takes a keen mind to rise above that base instinct and rely on reason to save them. I don’t think you’re that smart or disciplined, Tyler, or at least I hope, for your sake, you aren’t, because if Ayn Rand is right, then it means when you stole from my boss, you were rational and calculating.” Lucius pushed the barrel of the gun against Tyler’s head. “And if that were true, and you’re really just a cold, calculating bastard, then I have to shoot you. Despite what you might have heard about me, I don’t actually like killing people.”

Even the youngest and greenest mobster had heard of the purple-eyed death. Lucius’s legend bordered on the mythical. Young gangsters sometimes got purple contacts to imitate him. Not since the royal right of kings had the color purple brought so much fear into men’s hearts.

Lucius pulled the gun back and let out a deep breath. “Now, if I’m right, and you stole from my boss in a fit of passion, logic be damned, then I have some sympathy for that. We’ve all done stupid things in the throes of emotional frenzy. I understand being an idiot, and you were a big idiot, weren’t you, Tyler?”

Realization came over Tyler as he thought he might get out of this. Lucius had given him enough rope to hang himself. All Tyler had to do was take it. “Yeah, exactly like that. It was all a big ... ummm ... fit of frenzied emotions or whatever.”

A smile came across Lucius’s face. In most cases, a smile would be comforting to somebody in distress, but there was something malicious about the way Lucius did it that made Tyler suck in his breath. “That’s very good, Ty. Now, I knew you weren’t thinking because no one would cross my boss the way you did unless they weren’t thinking properly. Now, let’s talk about restitution.”

“Restit—what?”

“Where is the money? And please tell me you didn’t spend it or give it to somebody else, or that would be very bad for you.”

Tyler shook his head. “No, I got it still. Every last penny. I was about to head to Vegas and spend it on hookers and blow.”

Lucius stood. “Then it’s very fortuitous I found you when I did. The odds are looking more and more in your favor with every passing minute. Tell me where to find it.”

“In the cabinet in the corner. Third drawer down behind the socks.”

Lucius didn’t much like to rifle through other people’s unmentionables, but it was part of the job. Lucius stood from the edge of the bathtub and walked across the apartment toward the dresser. It was a pathetic studio in a bad part of Korea Town, where the demarcation between a good neighborhood and a bad one often came down to what side of the street you were on. He opened the warped wooden cabinet and pulled the third drawer out in case it was booby-trapped, though he was confident Tyler wouldn’t be forward-thinking enough to do anything of the kind.

Lucius turned the drawer over and found a zipped bag filled with wads of $100 bills. He did some quick math, and it appeared to be all there. What a waste of his time. It was only $10,000 at the end of the day, but Rico wanted to send a message after they killed one of ours. Nobody gets away with something like that. The minute you let somebody get off without consequences, word gets out that you’ve gone soft, and life gets difficult for everyone.

After counting the money, Lucius put it back in the bag and returned to the bathroom. “It looks like it’s all there. This goes a long way to making you even with the house, Ty. You’ve been a very good boy. There is just one more thing, though.”

Tyler couldn’t help but plaster a stupid smile on his face like he was getting out of this alive. “And what’s that?”

Lucius’s eyes narrowed. “Bring Little Johnny back to life.”

That wiped the smile off Tyler’s face and replaced it with the panic, frenzied fear of a wild animal. “No, no, n—you don’t understand.”

“Nobody likes a beggar, Tyler.” Lucius lifted the gun and shot Tyler three times in the chest. Then, once in the head for good measure. Tyler’s body slammed against the back of the tub, and his blood swirled in the drain. It was considerate to kill your victim in the bathroom where the clean-up crew would have an easier time of it, and Lucius was nothing if not a considerate killer. He didn’t want to make a fuss.

Chapter 2

Eduardo didn’t particularly like being Lucius’s handler. Most other handlers worked from their cushy apartments or at least a seedy dive bar, but Rico insisted that he come on every one of Lucius’s assignments like he was babysitting a child. On some level, Eduardo understood the reasoning. After all, Lucius didn’t really care about the money, or the prestige, or the power that came with working for Rico’s outfit, and that made him dangerous. On the other hand, what Lucius cared about most was loyalty, and he was loyal to Rico—but only as far as Rico was loyal to him.

Loyalty was a tricky subject, and the boss shouldn’t have his loyalty questioned by somebody who worked for him, even if that person was the best contract killer in the business. Simply knowing that Lucius worked on Rico’s payroll was enough to keep most of the other families at arm’s distance. During his time working with Lucius, he had seen the man do incredible things, the kinds of things that normal men would not even attempt, let alone succeed at, if they decided to give it a go. That was because Lucius didn’t care about death. He didn’t have a death wish, but he didn’t have a healthy respect for death either, which was one of the main things that Rico used to keep his people in line.

On top of that, Lucius was boring and held Eduardo in the deepest contempt. Every one of their assignments was met with the kind of resentment reserved for children who wanted freedom from their parents. For his part, Eduardo didn’t care about Lucius any more than the paycheck allowed for, and the pay was good enough to eat a lot of shit.

Eduardo didn’t mind eating shit, which was what kept him alive long past when most of his contemporaries bit the bullet. He didn’t have an ego, or at least the amount Rico paid was enough to stuff his ego deep down inside himself.

Finally, after finishing a third greasy bean burrito and listening to the same record on repeat for the fifth time, Lucius came out of the building and slid into the car, slamming the door behind him. Eduardo sighed and pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket.

“You have blood on your nose.” Eduardo scratched his nose. “Right about here.”

“Thanks,” Lucius growled at him in a low voice. Eduardo hated that voice. “Drive.”

“I’m not a chauffeur.” Eduardo ducked Lucius’s icy stare because even he knew that was a lie. “Fine. That took forever. I’ve been sitting out here a coon’s age.”

Lucius finished with the handkerchief and tossed it on the ground, where it mingled with food wrappers and empty cups. “I don’t see you getting out of the car and risking your neck, Eduardo.”

Eduardo smirked as he slid the car into gear. “That’s because I’m the brains and the looks. You’re the brawn.”

“If that’s true, I think Rico needs to recast your part.”

“Was that a joke, hombre? I think it was a joke.” Eduardo chuckled and slapped him playfully on the arm. “Are you finally lightening up after eight years?”

“No,” Lucius said with a straight face. “Now drive, and if you touch me again, I will break every bone in your hand.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Eduardo slid the car out of the parking space as the police sirens grew in the distance. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“We don’t have this relationship, and I don’t want one.”

“Did you get the money?”

Lucius reached into his coat and pulled out a zipper pouch. When he showed Eduardo what was inside, the handler smiled.

“That’s what I’m talking about. And the boy?”

“Disposed of, of course. Tell the boss the clean-up crew can get started at his leisure.”

Eduardo glanced into his rearview mirror to see the police lights bouncing off the houses in the middle distance. “Change of plans on that front. Boss wants this to be a message, so we’re putting it in the papers. Captain sent some of his most photogenic cops to take care of it, and the news should be here presently.”

Lucius groaned. “Then why did I have to shoot him in the bathtub? I would have made it a bigger spectacle if I knew.”

“I’m sure it’s a plenty big spectacle. Everyone in this city will get the message. If you fuck with Rico’s money, we’ll send the purple-eyed killer after you.”

“Ugh,” Lucius groaned. “I hate that name. Do you know I have to wear sunglasses everywhere now? How many purple-eyed men do you think live in this city?”

“In Los Angeles? I don’t know. A lot.”

“Only 1% of the population has purple eyes. I already stand out enough.”

“Greater Los Angeles has a population of 18.5 million though, so even at 1%, that’s like 185,000 people. Not that rare, bro.” Eduardo noticed getting corrected wasn’t endearing him to Lucius any further. “But you’re probably right. It can’t be easy. Do you want me to get you some contacts or something?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not hiding myself, Eduardo. Besides, I don’t like things to touch my eyes. How about we drive in silence now.” Lucius turned off the music and crossed his arms over his chest, violating the most important rule of car etiquette: you do not mess with a man’s radio without permission. Lucius hadn’t asked permission for much in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. “That’s better.”

Eduardo so badly wanted to scream and rail and put his music back on, but he wasn’t in any rush to die, so instead, he bit his tongue and focused on the road. It would be a long drive back to Venice, especially in silence, but that was the job.

Whatever you say, asshole, he thought to himself as he started to play the tune of his favorite song in his mind. Nobody could take that away from him.

Chapter 3

Christine enjoyed the idea of being a social worker more than the actual machinations of her job. She thought after she got off the pole and got her hands dirty, she would feel better about her life, but her life was mostly spent filing paperwork. Those few times when she actually got out into the field were mostly spent taking children away from their parents and putting them in dubious but slightly more stable foster homes.

Not that she complained much. It was an honest living, whatever that meant, even if she made a tenth of what she would make on a single night when a high roller would come into the club. Luckily, she socked away more than enough money to pay for college and then some, and her needs were few.

Still, it was a good day for Christine. She had picked Tabitha’s children up at their foster home an hour ago with a new teddy bear each, and they were anxiously awaiting rejoining their mother. Tabitha’s struggle back from addiction had been long and arduous, but she checked in every week and followed the steps. Now, she had a stable job and what seemed like a decent man to pay half the rent. They weren’t rolling in it, but they also weren’t rolling in shit, either.

Christine threw the car into park just as Eduardo’s Cadillac sped past, unknowingly to her. She wouldn’t have wanted to see Lucius even if she did know, and it might have ruined her good mood. She looked back at the two smiling children in the rearview mirror, and at that moment, she was sure that nothing could destroy her mood.

That lasted about fifteen seconds before she heard a crash from inside the small duplex Tabitha had given her as an address, and a moment later, Tabitha’s shrill voice called out. “You son of a bitch! Get out!”

“Fucking whore!” a baritone voice screamed. “You better be ready to use that knife if you come at me like that.”

Christine pinched her smile and turned to the children. “I’ll be right back.”

“Is Mommy okay?” Janice, the older of the two with wild curly hair, asked pleadingly.

“I’m sure everything is okay. I’m just going to check. Watch your brother.”

Christine tried to hide her anxiety as she hopped out of the car and briskly walked up to the door. She didn’t even have a chance to knock before the door slammed open, and Tabitha was flung out into the grass.

“I knew you didn’t have the balls, bitch!” A tall, fat, scowling man with an overbite growled out the door. When he saw Christine, he jumped back. “Who the fuck is you?”

“Christine!” Tabitha stood up. “This isn’t what it looks like. Everything’s fine—”

“Christine?” The man held up the knife, but it was less threatening than inquisitive. “You that social worker bitch. Shit, that is too funny. I told you that you weren’t fit to raise no kids, and I didn’t want them in this fuckin’ house anyway!”

“Sir!” Christine shouted, using her most authoritative voice. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I am an agent of the state, and I need to know what the hell is happening here.”

“No—nothing—” Tabitha said. “It’s just a misunderstanding. I ... I tripped, and he was cooking, weren’t you, Greg?”

Greg narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m going to help you get those brats into my house.” He turned to Christine. “This bitch is crazy. She shouldn’t have kids. She’s a menace to everyone.”

“Shut up!” If looks could kill, Tabitha’s would decimate, but she didn’t need her looks to kill because she lunged with the intent to wring Greg’s neck. It was only Christine grasping her arm and pulling her back that she missed Greg swinging his knife across her chest.

“Get back, bitch! Yeah, that’s right. Hold her back if you know what’s good for her.”

Tabitha’s anger transferred from Greg to Christine in an instant, but Christine easily blocked her haymaker. Years of martial arts prepared her to handle much worse. “If you hit me, there’s no coming back from that.”

Tabitha’s snarl fell into a bewildered frown, and tears welled in her eyes. “Please don’t take my babies away from me. I’ve done everything.”

“I know.” Christine’s gaze turned to Greg and then back to Tabitha. Then, back to Greg. “It’s pretty clear this woman shouldn’t have kids in your house, sir. However, she’s going to have to come with me to fill out some paperwork so I can get these kids placed again.”

The shriek that came out of Tabitha was enough to break glass, and she fell to the ground in agony. “No, please, please!”

“Yeah, that bitch crazy. I don’t want her anywhere around me, and you shouldn’t want her anywhere around those kids.”

Christine pulled Tabitha toward the car, and she struggled each step of the way. At the curb, Christine looked down at her. “You can do this the easy way or the hard way, but only the easy way lets you say goodbye to your kids. Now, will you get into my car willingly, or do I need to call the police to put you into one of their cars unwillingly?”

Tabitha’s wails petered out, and she wiped her eyes. “I’ll come with you. I just want what’s best for my babies.”

“So do I.”

Christine watched Tabitha get into the car and hug her kids. She gave them a moment to greet each other, and when the immediate excitement wound down, Christine turned to Greg. “I’m sorry about the inconvenience.”

“It’s nothing,” Greg said. “If I see that bitch again, I’ll kill her.”

“That I believe.” Christine walked around the car and slid inside. By the time she put the car into gear, there was a dead silence. Christine waited until they were a couple of blocks away to break it. “There’s a place I can take you. It’s safe while you plan your next move.”

“There is no next move without my kids,” Tabitha said. “You understand that. I’d rather die than be away from them.”

“I believe that, but I think you misunderstand me. I’m talking about all three of you.”

It took a minute before it sunk in, and even then, only slightly. “Wait, you’re not taking my kids away? What about the paperwork?”

“Oh, that was bullshit. I needed to get you out of there without causing a scene.” Christine looked over at Tabitha when they slid to a stop at a light. “You’re still not using, are you?”

“No, ma’am. I swear to God I’m not. I just got shit taste in men.”

“That’s not a crime.” Christine looked forward for a moment. “If I bring you there, you can’t tell anyone where it is, and you gotta do what they say. They are very nice, but they are strict as hell.”

“I won’t step a toe out of line, but why are you helping me?”

Christine bit her lip. “This was supposed to be a good day, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that son of a bitch take that away from us.”

Tabitha looked back to her kids, and when she spoke again, there was a huge smile on all four of their faces. “This is like our very own happy fucking ending.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” Christine wiped a tear from her eyes and started the car moving again. “It’s still going to be a bitch, but at least you’ll have a fresh start.”

Chapter 4

It wasn’t that Lucius liked to sit in silence—well, that was part of the reason he turned off Eduardo’s music. The biggest issue was that Lucius hated Eduardo’s voice and yet he insisted on singing along to every song, even if he didn’t know it. It was a bonus that it made Eduardo squirm. Eduardo was little more than a glorified babysitter, and it rankled him, but it wasn’t Eduardo’s fault. Everyone had to make a living, but part of that was rubbing Lucius the wrong way. It didn’t help that he dressed every bit the low-budget porn producer he idolized.

“You’re the best, Lou.” Eduardo barely sounded like he was lying as he eased the car around the final corner before they reached their destination. “I’m just saying you could loosen up a little. Life’s a cabaret, baby, a never-ending party. You gotta grasp it by the ho-joes.”

“I could,” Lucius replied. “But I won’t.”

Lucius couldn’t get out of the car fast enough when Eduardo finally stopped his Cadillac in front of the strip club, where Rico conducted most of his business. Technically, Rico’s office was wherever he was, but he was usually inside his favorite business.

“I’m not the enemy here, friendo.”

Lucius knew that, but he didn’t care. He promised Rico ten years of service, and part of his retirement was that he no longer had to suffer fools. “Whatever you say, Eduardo. I’ll see you around.”

Lucius slammed the car door behind him and walked into the bar. Even though it had the façade of a strip club, Lucius had always seen it as a prison. The only thing that ever made it worth living was Christine, but she got out and left him behind. Now, it was his turn to return the favor. He doubted she ever thought about him anymore, but he couldn’t say the same about her. He still checked on her every once in a while and made sure nothing bad happened to her. For the first few months, Rico was filled with piss and vinegar. Nobody walked out on him, so when she bought out her contract, he wanted to send a message.

Lucius wasn’t having any of that, and even though Rico ran the operation, Lucius was his enforcer. Rico knew in no uncertain terms that if anyone touched Christine, he would wipe them out of existence before going for their family. Lucius was slow to anger, but once somebody flicked the switch, he would burn their lives to the ground and piss on the ashes.

The deep base from the sound system ground against Lucius’s teeth even before he opened the door, and he was accosted by the unmistakable smell of pole grease, sweat, and beer. Three girls worked the poles around the club. Even though it was early, the place was packed, so the A team was already playing their B game. It wasn’t fair to rank the girls, but some were simply better than others. Lucius didn’t go for the whole stripping bit, but some of the dancers really put on a show. He never approved of Christine’s work, but he couldn’t deny she was an artist when she took the stage.

There hadn’t been another like her since she left, but there was still a hierarchy of dancers. Some were simply content with stripping down, while others made a show out of it. The best of Rico’s harem were on stage warming up. They weren’t giving their all, not until the crowds were overflowing toward midnight, but they were still putting on a show.

Lucius moved through the crowd toward the bar, where Rico was talking with a small gaggle of his inner circle. Rico was the elder statesman of the bunch, but the others were as close to carbon clones as you could be without sharing genes. They all had slicked-back hair, tracksuits, and facial hair. Nearly the only way that Lucius could tell them apart was from the color of their suit and the fact that their facial hair was a bit different depending on which one you were looking at, but they were still unworthy of a second glance like all of Rico’s lackeys. The only one of note was Blake, Rico’s second-best enforcer after Lucius, and he had a chip on his shoulder about not being considered the best, which meant he was always looking for a fight.

“To my wife!” Rico shouted, holding up a shot. “Eight years ago, she met a tragic end!”

A thin, lanky man with a pencil-thin mustache rose from the middle of the group. This was Salvator, Rico’s only son, heir to his empire, and perpetual disappointment. “I really wish you wouldn’t say that about my mother.”

“And I have told you a hundred times ... I don’t give a fuck. Don’t think I can’t still take you over my knee or crack you one across the face.” He turned back to his men. “Now, where was I?”

“Your wife, Rico.” Juan held up his glass. “Eight years and twenty-six bullets later, here we are.”

“That is very inconsiderate, Juan.” Everyone went silent for a moment before Rico started to laugh. “And I love it, you crazy fuck. Now, drink! To Norma! That fat heifer. May she rest in pain.”

“That’s it!” Salvator shouted, pushing through the crowd.

Salvator stomped across the club. Lucius caught Salvator’s eyes and grimaced. Salvator, on the other hand, waved daintily and seductively at Lucius as if he had completely recovered from his father insulting his mother.

“Hey, Luscious!” Salvator said. “How are you living, my love?”

Salvator removed a rose sticking coyly off his lapel and placed it in Lucius’s front pocket.  Then, he embraced Lucius and kissed him on both cheeks. Lucius grabbed Salvator by the collar and pulled him close. He didn’t hate the little twerp, but he was in no mood to suffer fools.

“I don’t like to be touched, Salvator. I wouldn’t do that again. Understand?”

Salvator nodded, and Lucius let him go. “You broke my heart, baby.”

Salvator scampered away as Blake walked over to Lucius. “Typical, picking on somebody weaker than you.”

“What’s it to you, Blake?” Lucius growled. “Do you want to come at me, too? I am in no mood to tussle, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

Blake stepped closer to Lucius and crowded his face. “Are you sure about that? Seems like you lost a step, or at least the boss thinks so, sending you on smaller time thugs with each mission.”

Lucious didn’t turn away. Instead, he leaned forward until he was millimeters from Blake’s face. “I was cleaning up your mess, Blake. Rico pulled me aside personally and asked me to find the one person you missed. It took me a whole day, but don’t worry, buddy. I got you covered.”

“That’s it!” Blake pulled out his switchblade.

In one swift motion, Lucius grabbed Blake’s arm and slapped the knife out of his hand. Then, he pulled out his knife and pressed it against Blake’s stomach. “You still have a lot to learn, junior. Never fight angry. Now, run along. The grown-ups have business to discuss.”

“Someday somebody’s gonna wipe that smug look off your face.”

“Maybe, but not today and not you.” Lucius took a step away from Blake. Without missing a beat, Blake threw a punch at the back of Lucius’s head, but Lucius was too fast. He saw it from the corner of his eye, turned, grabbed Blake’s fist, squeezed it tight, and forced Blake to his knees. “Kiss my shoe.”

“What? No. Never!”

Lucius squeezed tighter. Blake fell to the floor, inches from Lucius’s foot. “Remember this next time you think I’ve lost a step.”

Lucius released Blake, who dropped the rest of the way to the floor. By the time Lucius rose back to his full height, Rico was there, arms outstretched. “My boy! Bienvenido. Are you causing trouble in my club?”

Lucius looked around to see that all the dancers had stopped, and all eyes were on him. “Not my intention. Sorry. Blake still has a lot to learn about respect.”

“He’s English,” Rico replied. “Something always gets lost in translation with them.”

Rico laughed as he grabbed Lucius in a bear hug and kissed him on either cheek. Salvator and Blake looked on at the festivities and snarled from different ends of the club, but everyone else got back to the business at hand as the music started at a throbbing pace.

“How was it?” Rico asked, walking back toward the bar.

“Bloody.”

Rico waited for a moment, expecting more, before smiling. “Brief, as always. Congratulations on another successful job.”

“You didn’t tell me the police would get involved,” Lucius said. “You know how I get when plans change.”

“I’m sorry, my boy. It was a last-minute—why do you have such a long face? You won. You’re safe and sound. You should smile. I’ll tell you what, how does a ten grand bonus sound for your troubles.”

“Not as good as twenty.”

Rico thought for a second before nodding. “You’re right. That does sound better. Come with me.”

Rico wrapped his arm around Lucius and walked them toward a door in the back of the club where they could be alone while Blake looked on with venom in his eyes.

Chapter 5

Christine’s bleeding heart tore open almost every day of her life, but even for her, today was a lot. She didn’t mind drinking alone most nights, but the thought of going home and cracking open a bottle of wine by herself was too miserable for her to contemplate. So, instead, she ducked into a bougie bar in downtown LA down the street from her apartment.

“Can I get a glass of that red I like, Becca?” Christine asked, entering the bar on a slow night.

“Sure thing,” the blond in a tight shirt and high ponytail said. It was cold inside, but she still paraded around in skimpy clothes. Anything for tips. It was something that Christine didn’t miss about her last job. “The shiraz, right?”

“Yup.” She smiled. “The Napa one, though. I didn’t like the one from Willamette Valley.”

“Me either.” Becca smiled. “We actually got a really good one from France. It’s a bit snobby to say it, but it’s really good.”

“I don’t mind snobby. I’ll give it a go.”

Christine had lived in downtown LA before the hipsters pushed the homeless into bigger encampments farther away from their delicate sensibilities. Frankly, Christine preferred it back then. Yeah, it was seedier and more dangerous, but she was so sick of gentrification driving out people she knew for years. Luckily, her building was rent-controlled, which was fine for a long time. Then, last year, the kindly old couple who owned the building sold to a commercial realtor who made it clear in no uncertain terms that they would make life hard for all residents until they left.

She had no doubt they would gut the building and turn it into $3,000+ apartments soon enough. Even though it was against the law, developers had been doing it for years, asking for forgiveness instead of permission and getting it from the city along with millions in subsidies. About half the residents of her building had already left, driven out by inconsistent hot water and an infestation of rats, but Christine used to be a stripper and had been a single woman in Los Angeles before that, so she was used to putting up with a whole lot of shit. She was also stubborn as hell and willing to wait until the bitter end just to make a point.

Besides, she knew that soon the developers would come along with a blank check, and if she were going to leave, she would bleed them dry in the process. For now, she was happy living a convenient walk to a slew of bars. Unlike her neighbors, she didn’t mind the homeless crowding around the building. Instead, she brought them leftovers and bought them blankets in the wintertime.

Becca handed Christine her wine. She took a sip and luxuriated in the tannins as they worked their way across her tongue. “Goddamn, that is good.”

“Right?” Becca said. “I hate myself for it, but it’s ruined me from the American stuff.”

“You should never hate yourself for having good taste. That said, I still come here even though you are destroying the neighborhood, so maybe I’m not the best arbiter of good and evil.”

Becca leaned over the bar. “I think you put enough good into the world to balance it with coming here, hon. Everyone needs a vice, after all.” Becca sighed as she caught sight of a group of guys waving her over. She rolled her eyes and pulled herself to stand. “Gotta go put on a show. Enjoy the drink.”