The Boss

Chapter 1

"You brought the order?" he asked in a low deep voice that rung in the empty alleyway.

Robert nodded, slowly reaching into his hooded jacket and bringing out a white package wrapped up tight. Jared watched him with an eagle's stare, his eyes tracing his every fraction of movement. Robert reached out to him, the package held firm in his hand.

Jared grinned, eyeing the package. He put his hand forward for it, casing Robert to pull it back.

"The payment?" the elder man demanded.

Jared frowned, freezing for a moment, his long arm suspended mid air. Then sighing, he reached into his breast pocket and took out a thick bundle of notes, tied with a rubber band. Robert knew them to be real. He had done business long enough with this guy to know he did his business properly. After all a man who did not like to be tied down could get his special packages from nowhere else.

Taking the money from him, Robert handed the package over. That was it. The exchange was done. Now both of them were to walk away as if nothing had happened. Jared went first, his stride smooth and casual. Robert waited for him to disappear into the darkness ahead before turning around and walking in the opposite direction.

His phone suddenly rang in his pocket, startling him. Going rigid, he waited, heart pounding. It was as if it had smelled something shifty. Robert, having being in this business quite a while, knew that his heart was a reliable alarm to danger; Something was wrong.

Taking out his phone from his trouser pocket, he moved his thumb to flip it open. His intention were not followed. Before he could answer the call, a heavy hand clamped over his mouth. Yep, he was in dead trouble.

                                                                      *

Zador Theroux was lounging in his office. Leaning back in his leather recliner, he swept his pearl grey gaze all over the room, taking in the fixed appearance of his private room. Nothing looked to be out of place.

The two, floor to ceiling, shelves, loaded with all kinds of books, many written by his own hand, stood firm in their spot, taking over two of the walls, left and right. All the walls were laminated, the wood polished to a warm glow that made his office seem like a more homely place than it truly was. A master disguise to the truth that occurred within these four large walls.

Placing his hands on his wide desk, Zador lowered his head, feeling a slight stiffness in the back of his neck. How long had he been sitting here? How long had he been alone in this silence? Far too long it seemed. The stirring in the pit of his stomach, a dull burn, informed him he needed to get his hands dirty.

Throwing back his head, and running a tanned hand through his messy dark hair, he sighed. The movement of his hand caused the great chandelier, hanging on the ceiling to throw its light on his silver armour ring, making it flash menacingly. That sharp edge of the ring had drawn a lot of blood from various different people, and it seemed, tonight it would draw more. The thought sent tingles of excitement through Zador's muscular frame.

While his body responded positively to the idea, his mind and heart recoiled and he shuddered mentally. He hated this hell hole he lived in, but enjoyed it at the same time. His inner being craved pain and loved to hear the panic of his victims, when he cornered them in this very room and hurt them, physically and mentally. It was a thrill a few were lucky enough to experience, and he had been going through it for the better part of his life. Truly an honour… yeah Fuc**** right!

Wasn't it just crazy? The amount of men that had walked through this door, and left with blood and tears covering their face was countless. The amount of women he had brought here and taken were infinite. Though he never harmed them. Women were not on his black list. he took no pleasure in harming them. They were delicate creatures, broken so easily, not worth the time. And the trouble. They deserved better.