AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It doesn’t feel that way.” Hovering just overhead is a heavy gray fog. Exhaustion ready to smother me. I hold it back a little longer. “You said you’d break me. And now I’m not me anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t exist. I need to fight. If I’m not fighting, I’m not alive.”
“Is that why you hunt your mother’s killer?”
It is, but I’ve never thought of it that way before. The only way I survived that great loss was by committing myself to avenging her death. The goal drove me forward so I would have something to live for.
“You think I’m pathetic.”
“No, my Lucrezia. Not that. Never that.” He pulls me even tighter to him, tying me to reality even as his warmth threatens to pull me into sleep. “Enough of this. Let me tell you something real.”
As I float away, he follows me, telling me the story of a boy who loved knives and lived above a butcher shop and whose mother let the butcher hurt her until the boy grew up and killed him and any other man who would prey upon them. And they lived happily ever after, the end.
Victor
I wait a long while, dozing on and off with Lula in my arms. After a REM cycle, I slide away, careful not to wake her. There’s no worry of that, though. She’s sleeping soundly. I take her vitals, and she barely stirs. I email an update to my doctor, the one who patched me up the first time I had Lula as a guest, who’s advising me on the sleep/sexual torture protocol I’m cycling her through and helping me keep tabs on her health.
With her dark hair spread over the pillow and black lashes fanned over her tanned cheeks, she looks like an angel fallen to earth. Her lips are plush and pouting, her expression sweeter than she’d allow if she was awake. I trace her brow line, and she frowns as if frustrated by the gentle touch.
I turned up the heat before I climbed into bed with her, but now I lower it and cover her with a weighted blanket so she’ll sleep well.
Before I leave, I turn on the camera in the corner that streams an encrypted feed to a private website. The doctor will monitor her while I’m gone. And I can log in and check on her while she sleeps.
I would stay, but I have business to attend to.
It’s been three months since Lula surprised Stephanos and wounded him; he’s gone to ground where even I cannot find him. Not that I tried too hard. I was more focused on Lula.
But now that I have her secure, it’s time for me to collect what I’m owed.
My contacts have traced the remnants of Stephanos’ gang to a shuttered hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Primo Pizzeria. I cased the joint two nights ago and set up cameras so I could study the henchmen in their natural territory. I haven’t done a complete watch-through of the footage, only a few hours to get a sense of the players and their hierarchy and roles. I will do my homework more thoroughly the next time Lula sleeps, but I have all the information I need for this afternoon’s work.
I first approach the Pizzeria from the front. The windows and door are covered in ancient, sun-browned newspapers. I set a sleek black briefcase right on the stoop, slim enough to sit in the shadows and go unnoticed until the proper time.
Then, I retrace my steps and slip up the fetid alley, avoiding crumpled beer cans and cast-off takeout containers. The back door is cracked, and in one silent motion, I ease my way inside.
Gruff voices echo through the empty kitchen. I don’t try to hide myself but simply walk into the main seating area, right up to the men lounging in a circle of chairs.
“Good morning,” I murmur. Instantly, four of the five men reach to snap their weapons up and train them on me.
The fifth one fumbles his and drops it on the floor. It hits the toe of his tennis shoe and spins across the floor, stopping a few inches from my boot. I raise a brow.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I spread my arms to show I hold no visible weapons. “A friend.”
I wait calmly until the wiry, curly-haired man in the center spits out his cigarette and lowers his gun. “Hey, I know you. You’re that hitman Stephanos hired to bump the suit.”
“Yes. You may call me Victor.”
The wiry man narrows his eyes at me for a moment, then relaxes. “I’m Spiro. That’s Uzi, Kill Zone, Bruiser, and Joe.” He gestures to each of his friends in turn.
“A pleasure.” They’re all scowling at me with varying degrees of distrust. I raise my bare palms to show my intent. “May I?”
When no one says anything, I bend down slowly and pick up the gun. “Kill Zone?” I offer it to the man who dropped it. He blinks slowly and takes it.
Uzi still has his weapon trained on me.
