Chapter 18

“Bad deeds don’t go unpunished in this town,” I said. “You’ve done too many wrongs for us to turn a blind eye. A fistful of dollars won’t fix the sick shit you did.”

“Please, man! I-it’s just my wife and I h-have been having p-problems for years… and I-I need something for… my needs. Y-you can understand that as a… man, right?” Miller said.

How dare he compare himself to me? Miller wasn’t a man; he was an animal, and rabid animals needed to be put down.

Two of my men pinned him against the window that overlooked the club. He tried to fight it, but they were far too strong for him.

“The only way to make this right is to get rid of disgusting vermin like you. Repeat offenders don’t get cured overnight.” I paused, looking him over. “I don’t care that your wife doesn’t want to screw you. She has good reason not to, considering the shit you’re into. I’m just glad you don’t have any daughters.”

Marco connected a swing with Bradley’s right knee, resulting in a satisfying crack. He howled in pain but my men held him in place, stopping him from dropping to the ground.

“You owe us a lot of money, but that’s the least of your problems. It’s about what’s right. And wrong.”

His eyes narrowed and his face turned red. I could see the veins throbbing in his temples. And there it was. Stage two, anger. “Who the hell are you to be my judge and jury? You’ve never done any wrong in your life?”

“I’ve done many, many bad things, but I’ve never exploited the innocent.”

I walked up to him and looked down at the pathetic rolls of useless flesh. His brow was coated in a layer of sweat. I balled my fist, cocked back, and rammed it into his face. The force shot his head backward into the window behind him, shattering the glass.

He roared in pain, but with his arms held firmly, he was powerless to escape it. “The Novas will hear about this!” he seethed, resorting to threats.

“I don’t think they will. Did they blackmail you into being your protection?” Fucking coward. I punched him again, this time, in the stomach.

He groaned while his body tried to double over, but he was trapped.

“Let me guess. You had several attacks, robberies, and assaults at your club. And then, magically, one day, the Novas came to your rescue, offering protection in exchange for money?”

“How the fuck… did you know that?” he croaked out between gasps.

“Because that’s what us scumbags do.” I shook my head. The reminder of the Novas exhausted me to the bone. They weren’t much of a problem just yet, but they could be.

I stepped away and left Marco and his boys to it. Bats, the back of guns, fists, and boots. My job here was done.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Marco. Leave him alive, leave him dead, I don’t care,” I said over my shoulder, “You be the judge, jury, and executioner.”

“Hmm,” his deep voice came from behind me.

I left, went home, and wearily fell into bed half-dressed.

****

Dominic

The gentle evening breeze was too warm. The lap of the waves against the shore was too loud. The vague briny scent of the seaweed and water had somehow managed to infuse itself into every bite of the risotto in front of me. And the woman sitting across from me had spent the past ten minutes pushing food around her plate with her fork. What the hell had I been thinking?

I’d seen the way Fallon had stared out at the bay from inside the restaurant on our last date. This was supposed to be perfect. A private dinner on the outdoor patio of a five-star restaurant, overlooking Jamaica Bay. It had started out all right. The way she’d smiled, the way the light of the moon had shone in her wide, excited eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

Now, we were quiet, uncomfortable. This would have been so much easier if the end goal was simply to get her into my bed. As much as she seemed to dislike me, her body didn’t. I could see it in the liquid heat in her eyes when she looked at me, and I could feel it in the air that was practically combusting between us. But this wasn’t supposed to be about sex. It was supposed to be about something more. The problem was I didn’t fucking want more. I wanted Fallon naked in my bed, and tomorrow, I wanted to move on. That’s what I did. That’s what I was good at. Trying to converse with a woman who was as sweet as sugar one minute and as sour as lemon the next drained the energy I didn’t have to spare.

“So, um, what’s your favorite color?” Fallon asked, still pushing food around on her plate.

“My favorite color?” Just great. Now we were resorting to small talk? And even if I wanted to jump on board this pathetic train, I didn’t have a favorite color, probably because I wasn’t in the sixth grade anymore.

“Red.” The word slipped out unbidden. Red like all the blood I’d cleaned off my hands. Red like the bloodshot eyes that stared back at me in the mirror some mornings. Red like the rage that clouded my vision sometimes. That was apparently my favorite color. Then again, it was also the color of Fallon’s dress that was hugging her curves and offering a tantalizing peek at the upper swells of her breasts. It was the color of the lipstick she wore that shined like the juiciest thing I’d ever seen when she swept her tongue across her lips.