Content Warnings: Brutal violence involving pens, gun violence, blood, violence, smut, orgasm denial, choking, spanking, slapping, daddy kink, dirty talk, oral sex (m receiving), power play dynamics.
I'm not a historian, so history people DON'T come after me! I was watching a doc on the French Revolution while I wrote this. Dahlia's monologue about the French Revolution is my way of trying to showcase her intelligence and the way she thinks things through aloud (because it's something that I do too lol). People might disagree with her philosophical stance, and that's fine. You'll know that scene when you get to it.
They lay on the couch after dinner sharing a bag of chocolate covered pretzels that Dahlia found in the cupboard. She put on The Lost Boys and they cuddled up on the couch, James's fingers tangling themselves in her hair as they watch. He keeps staring at her and she keeps telling him to pay attention, but it's difficult when the most beautiful person in the room is sitting right next to him. He hasn't felt like this in a long time about anyone, or anything. He's getting that vigor back that he thought he had lost.
Maybe Father Paul was wrong. There's nothing wrong with his psychology, his soul is perfectly intact, he was just missing this - this puzzle piece that fits perfectly into his life. He barely had to work for Dahlia, it's like she just fell into his lap. He's grateful. She's fun, cute, and she makes him feel like a teenager again. She points out every trivia fact about the movie and keeps apologizing for it. James chuckles.
"Don't be sorry. It's endearing."
"Wanda won't watch it with me anymore because I'm such a know-it-all, apparently."
"I like it," James says softly. "I like the things you're interested in."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. What other things do you like that I don't know about?"
"Besides flowers?"
"Yeah."
She hums softly.
"When I was a kid I used to be obsessed with Greek mythology. Like, weirdly obsessed with it. It was all I wanted to talk about. And then the French Revolution."
"The French Revolution?"
"Yeah, weird, right? It was a week long unit in my history class and I read everything I could on it. And then I got another taste of it in university when I got to take an entire history class on it. I read the entire textbook in advance over the summer. Twice."
"What made you so interested in it?" James asks.
She shrugs.
"Well, what I was really interested in was the destruction and transformation of art and buildings as symbols of power. The palace of Versailles was this massive expression of French royal power and rubbed nobility's wealth in the faces of people who were starving and being taxed out the ass because the country was broke and they kept losing wars." Dahlia scoffs. "I'd start a revolution, too."
James bites his lip as she keeps talking.
"It was this way to say fuck you to nobility, fuck you to oppressive power, fuck you to the church - these institutions that had strangleholds on people's lives, and then the people were emboldened by these Enlightenment philosophers who said, 'you don't have to be told what to think.'" She pops another pretzel into her mouth. "I mean, this is all romanticized, of course, and the revolution ended up eating its own. The ideas that they brought forward never really became something truly positive and beneficial for everyone, they just set up new regimes of power, but..." Another shrug and she takes a deep breath as she licks the chocolate off of her fingers. "The whole thing was just really interesting to me, I guess — did you know that Marie Antoinette actually never said 'let them eat cake'?"
"She didn't?"
"Nope. She probably didn't even really know that people were starting to riot outside of the gates of Versailles. That's how disconnected she was from the people."
He blinks. She's clearly thought a lot about this, maybe written about it. Her eyes sparkle whenever she talks about something she really loves. He takes a deep breath and smiles, leaning over to kiss her. Dahlia giggles.
"What?"
"And you're telling me you never graduated university?" He asks.
She chuckles and shakes her head.
"Hey, you said you don't have to have a college education to be smart."
He smirks.
"Have you ever been to France?"
She shakes her head and James pauses, biting his lip.
"Would you like to go?"
Her eyes go wide.
"Now?"
"No," he laughs. "Eventually."
"You would fly me to Paris?" She laughs.
He doesn't see what's so funny. James would do anything for her. He loves her that much. He reaches over and brushes her hair away from her face.
"Of course I would. Any time you wanted to go."
She runs a hand through her hair.
"Well, it'll be easier to take a vacation now that we've hired someone new."
He quirks a brow. James tries not to meddle too much in Dahlia's business. She's clearly intelligent, talented, and she knows what she's doing in many respects.
"Who?"
"This guy named Scott."
A flare of jealousy erupts in his chest. She catches it, judging from the look on her face. He thought he was almost unreadable, but clearly not.
"What?" He asks.
"You're jealous."
"I'm not," he murmurs, grabbing a pretzel and shoving it into her mouth. "Let's watch the movie."
"No! You're totally jealous!" She laughs. She puts the bag on the coffee table and climbs into his lap. James chews with his eyes fixed on the TV. He is jealous. He's always been a jealous person. What's his is his and he doesn't like to share. It's been that way ever since he was a little boy.
He feels Dahlia's soft lips on his neck, nipping at his throat and his jawline. His eyelids flutter and he sighs. She giggles.
"James."
"What?"
"Talk to me?"
"About what?"
She's going for the softer approach, kissing him and toying with him so that he'll break. He finds it mildly amusing, but the thought of some guy named Scott hitting on her makes his blood boil a little bit. He wants to show Dahlia who she belongs to. She would tell him that she doesn't belong to anyone, that she's free to make her own decisions, and in many senses, that is true. He's not angry with her. She can hire anyone he wants.
That guy just better know his fucking place.
"Why are you jealous when you know you're the only thing that gets me going?" Her voice is a husky whisper that sends chills down his spine.
Dahlia's hand massages the front of his pants. James bites down on his bottom lip. He can feel his cock twitching in his pants and sighs softly.
"Dahlia."
"I'm just saying," she purrs in his ear. "You don't have to be jealous of a guy named Scott." He watches as she slides off of the couch and nestles between his legs, reaching up to unzip his pants. "I want you. You and those gorgeous fucking blue eyes, those cheekbones, those perfect lips, and this—"
James groans as she reaches into his pants and begins to stroke his cock slowly, squeezing it as she pumps her hand up and down.
"Besides, I think he's married," Dahlia continues.
"Is he?" James rasps. "That's a relief."
"Definitely," she whispers. She adjusts her position and begins to swirl her tongue around the tip of his cock, sucking on it and releasing him with a pop. "You're so big."
He swipes a hand through his hair and grunts softly.
"Fuck."
She laughs.
"You're so hot when you're losing control like this."
"You think I'm losing control?" He asks with a raised brow.
Dahlia swallows his cock and he whines. She giggles. Fucking brat. James shoves his hands into her hair, forcing her to take more of him. She gags and coughs, her head pushing against his hands. He releases her and lets her up as she wipes her mouth. She smirks at him and James grins.
"Come here. Take your pants off."
"Yes, daddy," she whispers as she gets to her feet and kicks off her sweatpants. She steps toward him and James grabs her by the hips and looks up at her.
"What have I told you about sass?" He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He knows this makes her weak. He can practically see her knees knocking together. James pumps his cock a few times as he licks his lips. She blushes and her eyes twinkle.
"It was a good way to get you to spank me."
He beckons her over with one finger. Dahlia climbs onto his lap and lowers herself onto his cock. Her moans sound like music. James reaches back and smacks her ass hard. She whines and bucks her hips.
"James!"
"Count."
Another smack. Her cheeks flush a darker pink.
"One," she gasps.
"Good girl."
Another.
"Two."
She's sunk her nails into his biceps as she fucks him.
"I'm gonna come," she whines.
James reaches up and wraps his hand around her throat, making sure to squeeze the sides and leave her windpipe unobstructed.
"You come when I tell you to come."
Her eyes slam shut.
"Nod your head if you understand," he whispers.
She takes a deep, but shaky breath as she nods her head.
"Yes, sir."
"Good girl."
He smacks her again and she yelps.
"Three!" She chokes out.
Another.
"Four!"
She's fucking him hard, her hips working overtime. He can see her thighs beginning to shake. His hand slides up her neck to grasp her chin and point her gaze toward him.
"Remember, peach, you come when I say."
"I can't—"
He gives her a hard tap on the cheek and her jaw drops, eyes wide. James remembers her telling him she wanted to be slapped. He decides to start small and work his way up to see how much she can take. Dahlia is tough. It's the thing he loves the most about her. He read her wrong. He thought she would be this fragile girl that he could break, but she's ferocious and animalistic. She can keep up with him and then some.
"You're fucking doing this on purpose," she whines.
He can feel her clit gliding against his hipbone.
"You're so pretty when I torture you like this. Remember when I tied you to those rings?"
She nods, breathing hard.
"I've got a hell of a lot more planned for you. It's been so long since I've fucked a woman like you, Dahlia."
She lets out a sob and her body begins to shake. James sticks his bottom lip out in a mock pout.
"What's the matter, beautiful?"
"I wanna come so bad."
Her entire body is clenched like a fist, fingernails digging into his biceps and her muscles twitch to allow her to maintain her composure.
"Do you need it?" He whispers.
"Yes."
"How badly?"
Tears well in her eyes and she has to sit still for a minute to take a few deep breaths. Her pussy flutters around him. James hasn't told her yet, but he's just as close as she is.
A tear rolls down her cheek and James feels himself get harder.
"Peach, you're so pretty when you cry."
She lets out a soft sob, hoping for some sympathy. He wipes her tear away and kisses her, his mouth moving languidly against hers. Dahlia moans as her hands glide up and down his biceps. Her fingernails make deep red marks in his skin. He doesn't mind. They're temporary tattoos as far as he's concerned. She owns him just as much as he owns her. She's proven that time and time again with the way he can't stop thinking about her, can barely get work done when he's away from her... it's becoming a problem. She consumes his every waking moment, and he wouldn't have it any other way. James pulls away and she presses her forehead to his. Her hips have begun to writhe against him. She's so desperate to come that she can't stop herself.
"Please," she whispers softly as her mouth hovers over his. "Please, daddy. Let me come. Let me come all over you."
"You can come, peach."
She lets go, throws her head back and fucks him hard. The sight turns him on so much that he finds he has to keep his composure. He doesn't want to come too soon. He wants to watch her fuck him and think she has some semblance of control. She's wild, her hips erratic, alternating between rutting against his own and bouncing on his cock. It's like she can't decide on a rhythm because everything feels too good. Her nipples pebble beneath her thin white t-shirt and James reaches up to cup her breasts, running his thumbs overtop of them. She lets out a feral whine.
"Keep doing that!"
When she comes, she cries out and James leans over to suck on her neck, leaving deep, dark hickeys, marking his territory. She whines and whimpers, her body shuddering. Her hips continue to move, snapping and grinding against his until his body comes with a shudder, spilling into her.
"Fuck," he whispers.
"You're telling me," Dahlia laughs.
"That was amazing."
She laughs and kisses him.
'It's never bad with you, James."
He grins.
"And I'm not jealous."
"So are," she teases.
"Don't make me fuck you senseless again."
"You make that sound like something I'd hate."
He giggles and Dahlia climbs off of him. She kisses him before bounding to the bathroom to clean herself up. James takes off his dress pants and tosses them aside, stretching his legs out and pulling his briefs up. Dahlia emerges from the bathroom with her hair tied up. She plunks down on the couch and glances over at him.
"Do you want a pair of sweatpants?"
"Do you have any that would fit me?"
"A tinder date left his here like six months ago. I washed them, but they're comfortable. They're too long for me, so I just roll the legs up."
James shrugs.
"Sure."
"You want a t-shirt, too?" She asks as she scrambles over the back of the couch.
"If you have one that fits."
She comes back out of the bedroom with a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt, tossing them onto the sofa. James chuckles and stands up, unbuttoning his dress shirt as Dahlia jumps onto the couch and watches him, reaching over to grab the pretzels.
"What are you doing?" He laughs.
"Enjoying the show. Take it off, baby!"
"Don't objectify me."
"Oh, like you guys don't objectify women every day. How does it feel to be a victim of the female gaze?"
James shakes his head as he climbs into his sweatpants. He might be a billionaire, but if anyone can humble him, it's his 5'5" girlfriend with a big attitude and an even bigger mouth. God, he loves her. She's the only person he can really be himself around - and not the dark side of him, the side that he doesn't show anyone else. The people he has shown it to shunned him for it. The truth is, James hasn't dated since was 27 years old. His last girlfriend - fiancee, actually - only wanted him for his money. Their relationship was hollow and loveless. She knew who he really was. She only wanted to be queen of his empire, she didn't want a partnership.
Dahlia, though? Dahlia loves him for who he is. She's changing him. He can feel it, and for once, he's trying to embrace it. He'll never be soft, he'll never leave this life. It's made him too much fucking money, but if he eases her into it, she might just accept it. She could rule beside him for the rest of their lives.
But they're a long way from that dream. He changes his clothes, leaving his dress shirt and pants draped over the side of the couch. Dahlia cuddles up beside him, resting her head on his chest. She falls asleep watching the rest of the movie as she softly mumbles more trivia. Eventually, James shuts of the TV and carries her into her room, setting her down on the bed. As he goes to climb in, his bare foot hits something and he hears metal crunch. He crouches down and pulls out an empty Mountain Dew can from under her bed and sighs, unable to stop himself from shaking his head as he chuckles.
"Peach... you're a mess."
James wakes up long before Dahlia, taking a few minutes to stare at her as she sleeps. She pretty when she sleeps, even if her brow is knit together from whatever she's dreaming about in that gorgeous little head of hers. He kisses her on the cheek and she groans, rolling over onto her back as her head rolls to the side. It's 5:45am. James rolls out of bed and stretches, turning to crack his spine. Her mattress is terrible. He picks up his phone and orders her a brand new one to be delivered tomorrow morning. If he's going to fuck her and sleep on this thing, he wants to be comfortable - and she should be comfortable, too.
James pads to her bathroom. He has to use Dahlia's shampoo and conditioner, but he doesn't mind. They both smell like shea butter and vanilla. James scrubs his body with something that smells like grapefruit, wondering if Dahlia noticed the blood on his collar from taking another literal piece of Lennox last night. No matter how much he scrubbed, he couldn't get all of it off. It's why he didn't answer her texts. He was in the middle of sawing a man's leg off. Some things take precedence even if his girlfriend had sent him a picture that almost set him over the edge.
Walker never actually turned up for their meeting. James lied to Dahlia about that. Instead, Yelena showed up and pistol whipped him in the face for not having any answers. So, James decided to take his anger out on the next best thing. He had Peter drop Lennox's leg off at Walker's office.
Walker took a leave of absence from work, but he's back today to go over the new LAPD budget. His package, and James, be waiting for him on his desk at 10:00am, according to one of James's informants. James steps out of the shower and dries himself off, looking at himself in the mirror. There are times when he worries about his age, and whether or not Dahlia will get bored of him. He's ten years older than her, and he's definitely not as fun as a guy her age. He's also not getting any younger, despite the strict skincare regimen he sticks to. He leans over and stares at himself in the mirror. There are lines beginning to form around his eyes and mouth. His eyes don't look as bright as they used to when he was younger. There's a crease forming between his brows. The older he gets, the less he recognizes himself. He still sees that 20 year old who gave up a pitching career to take over the family business.
He never told Dahlia the truth about his father the night she talked about her own family. He was a fucking coward. George Barnes didn't die by his own hand at his wife's grave. It was James — actually, it was a hitman James knows. Loki Laufeyson. He's a contract killer that James hires when he needs something done quick and right. Loki made his father's death look like a suicide, complete with blood splashed across his mother's headstone like some sick art piece. He felt guilty about doing that to Winnifred, but George Barnes needed to pay for his sins. She would have understood. The anniversary of her death is coming up soon. Next month. James is dreading it, but maybe if Dahlia is there with him to hold his hand through it, things will be easier.
The thought makes him feel like a child.
James pulls back and looks over his body in the mirror. He has to do more sit-ups. More running. He flexes his muscles and sighs in soft disappointment. It's not enough. He doesn't look the same as he did when he was 25. He has to actively turn away form the mirror to dry the rest of his body off, or he'll be here all day. James grabs some of Dahlia's (or Wanda's) moisturizer off of the counter and spreads it over his face. It smells like watermelon. He frowns and stares at the jar. It's definitely moisturizer.
"With hyaluronic acid... for dry skin..." James shrugs and sighs. He's so used to his own bathroom at home, that this feels completely foreign to him. He has a very regimented routine that involves eye masks, retinol, a lot of stuff that Dahlia doesn't have. One day away from it won't kill him, and it's worth it to spend some more time with her. He really does feel like shit about not answering her texts all day, but he was incapacitated. James puts the jar down and pads out of the bathroom with the towel around his waist. As he's walking back to Dahlia's room, the front door unlocks and opens and Wanda steps through, her mouth dropping open when she sees him.
"Oh my — oh my God, James, I'm so sorry!" She covers her eyes. "I thought you would be asleep!"
He chuckles.
"It's okay, Wanda."
"I'm just going to my room to sleep for another couple of hours. I swear, I won't bother you."
James smiles.
"You're not bothering us. I'm a guest in your house. Sorry about using your last clean towel, by the way."
She chuckles.
"It's cool, man. We have in-suite laundry."
"Good deal."
"Right?" Wanda asks with a grin. She shakes her head. "Anyway, I'm still hungover, so I'm gonna..." she points to her room and James nods, saluting her before he disappears back into Dahlia's bedroom. She's still asleep, her face smashed into the pillow and there's a curtain of curly dark hair cascading down her back. James smiles softly, abandons his towel, and climbs back into bed with her, kissing her shoulder. She groans and lifts her head.
"Wha?"
James smiles.
"Hi, beautiful."
"What time is it?"
"About 6:15."
Dahlia groans and smashes her face back into the pillow.
"Noooooo!" She lifts it again. "Do you have to leave?"
"I was going to go to the gym, but I really want to stay with you."
She rolls over and wraps her arms around him.
"Then stay. Sleep more. You won't stop being hot if you don't go to the gym one time."
"I have a meeting at 10:00."
"I have to work at 10:00," Dahlia tells him.
"Perfect timing," James smirks.
Dahlia sets her alarm for 9:00am and snuggles up to him, kissing his face. She pulls away.
"Did you use my moisturizer?"
"And your shampoo. Wanda came home too."
"Oh, good." She reaches over and pounds on the wall. "WANDS!"
"What?"
"Wanna come to work with me?"
"Sure! Let me sleep a little though?"
"Sure! I'm getting up at 9:00!"
"Okay! Love you! And you, James!"
He laughs.
"I love you too, Wanda."
"Awww!" Her voice floats through the walls. "No fucking. I really need to sleep off this vodka."
James and Dahlia laugh quietly. He sets his alarm for 9:00, wraps his arms around her, and they fall asleep. When it goes off again, he's wide awake. James leans over and finds a text from Steve.
[Stevie]: Walker's hiding out exactly where we thought he would be. Got wind that he's got some of Yelena's guns there, ready to make a deal with some gangbangers. So, I guess he's not going to get his package this morning. Wanna pay him a visit?
I'll meet you there at 10:00.
[Stevie]: See you there, pal. Let's fuck him up. Just like the good old days.
James grins as Dahlia rolls out of bed and groans.
"Fuck, I hate waking up," she sighs as she gets dressed. James watches her from the bed. She looks over her shoulder. "Look at you. All you have to do is put your suit back on and you look amazing. I look like shiiiiiiit!"
"You look beautiful, Dahlia."
She really does. Her eyes are puffy from sleep and her hair is a tangled mane around her head as she rifles through her drawers and throws clothes haphazardly on the floor. He's never been with someone this chaotic, or this normal before. All of the women he's used to dating were old, old money. They swore, but that was about it. He had to keep his more unsavory appetites to himself, but Dahlia? She lets him be free. James sighs softly and finally rolls out of bed, padding out into the living room where Wanda is huddled over the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in her hands. She's staring blankly into it.
"James, have you ever been so hung over that you want to die?"
"Many times," he replies. "Drink some water, take two Advils, and get one of those greasy breakfast bagels near the shop. Works every time."
She looks up at him like he's just discovered the cure for cancer.
"The ones with the cheese and bacon on them?"
"And a little bit of—"
"Avocado spread?!" They laugh at the same time.
"You eat poor people food!" She shouts.
"What did you think I ate?" James laughs.
Wanda shrugs.
"I don't know, fruit dipped in caviar?"
"Ew!" Dahlia groans as she walks out of the bedroom, shrugging a cotton candy-colored hoodie over her shoulders. "That's fucking nasty."
"Yeah," Wanda groans. "I made myself a little sick saying it."
James grabs his clothes and heads into Dahlia's bedroom to get changed. His shirt is a little rumpled, but he's got a spare dress shirt and jacket back at the hotel, and he actually doesn't look that bad. When he steps outside, Wanda is guzzling the rest of the coffee while Dahlia pours a cup and looks through her phone.
"James?"
"Yes, my love?" He asks, wrapping an arm around her waist. She giggles.
"Could you send me those plans for Steve's party today?"
"Absolutely. I'll have Natasha do it right now."
He pulls away and taps out an email on his phone.
From: J.Barnes@BarnesTowers.com
To: Natasha Romanoff
Subject: Floor Plans for July 4th
Natasha,
Could you please send Dahlia the floor plans for Steve's party? Including photos, and information about decor? She wants to start on the arrangements sooner rather than later.
PS: Cancel my meetings this morning and tell people I'm away from my desk. Steve and I have some business to take care of before we come back to the office this afternoon.
Thanks, Nat.
-J
"Done," he says softly, kissing her on the cheek. "You two want a ride to work?"
"God yes," Wanda groans softly.
James chuckles and grabs his keys out of his pocket while Dahlia feeds Basil. She gives him a few kisses before they head out the door and step into the elevator. Wanda looks at him.
"So?" She asks as she puts on a pair of the biggest sunglasses James has ever seen. Dahlia has a matching pair.
"What?" He laughs.
"How was it hanging out with the poor bitches last night?"
"Wanda, shut the fuck up," Dahlia laughs.
"What? I'm just curious."
"You have, like, no fucking tact."
Wanda cackles.
"I know. Pietro hates it."
"You're going to be one of those fucking Karens when you're older who's like, 'what? I'm just speaking my mind!'"
Wanda makes a disgusted face and they start to shove each other. James shakes his head.
"For your information, and to satiate your curiosity, Wanda, it was wonderful. Dahlia is a very good cook—"
"Well, you can thank Whole Foods for the roast chicken," she laughs as she leans into James.
"And she's a wonderful hostess."
Wanda pushes her sunglasses down her nose.
"You fucked on the couch, didn't you?"
Dahlia stares straight ahead while a grin flickers across James's face. Wanda sighs.
"I knew it."
"Sorry, Wands."
"Sure you are," she mumbles as the doors open and they step outside. Wanda sits in the backseat while Dahlia rides up front with James. He took his Jaguar to her house. He doesn't have his favorite knife in the trunk of this car, but he has a couple of that he loves. Once he drops the girls off, he'll drive toward The Whip and meet Steve there. He checks the clock. He has 45 minutes. It's more than enough time.
The drive to In Bloom isn't long. When he pulls up to the shop, he spots Kate and a man who's a little older than him standing by the door. He looks boyish and charming, with kind eyes and a kind smile. He's bouncing up and down as he's telling Kate a story. Jealous bubbles in James's chest, but it quickly settles when Dahlia reaches over, grabs his face in her delicate hands and kisses him softly.
"I love you," she whispers.
"I love you too. I'll see you tonight?"
"Do we have plans tonight?"
"You wanna come over to my place?" James asks.
"Sure," she chuckles. "Do you have clothes for me?"
"I'll buy some today. You want sweatpants?"
Dahlia grins.
"That would be great," she giggles as she kisses him again. "Pick me up at 6:00?"
"Of course. I'll cook for you."
She smiles.
"That would be amazing."
Wanda has already wandered toward Kate and Scott and unlocked the door. She waves at Dahlia to come inside and Dahlia chuckles.
"I'll see you later," James purrs.
One more kiss and he's watching her rush toward the door, her curls bouncing behind her. James waves at them and drives off in the direction of The Whip. He puts on some music that reminds him of Dahlia. Hozier. It'll always remind him of her now. James drums on the steering wheel as he pulls into the back parking lot of The Whip. The only other car he sees is Steve's, and two people sitting in it. James kills the engine and steps out. Steve and Loki emerge and James smirks.
"I called in the best of the best," Steve announces. His face is still bruised and puffy from the other night, but he's looking better. Loki, on the other hand, looks as debonair as ever - his long black hair slicked back, sharp cheekbones, and blazing green eyes. Intense is an understatement for Loki. Even for someone like James, Loki makes him nervous. He's so even-tempered that James doesn't really think he's human sometimes. He's the perfect killing machine, a finely-tuned sociopath. He doesn't go off the rails like James does. He's focused and always ready to strike.
James finds no knives in his trunk.
"Fuck."
"I've got plenty," Loki practically purrs, offering one to James. He takes it and slips it into his jacket.
"Thanks, Laufeyson."
James grabs a pistol and looks at Steve.
"You got weapons."
Steve opens his jacket to reveal a gun in a holster and James nods, flicking his head toward the back door.
"Shall we?"
"It would be my pleasure," Loki replies.
He walks over to the back door and pulls out a lock picking device, sliding it in and jimmying it until the lock pops open and he grins proudly. Steve pats him on the back and they head inside. The club looks strange in the morning. There's nobody here. The day shift doesn't start until 12:00pm. They have plenty of time to get what they need from Walker.
Quietly, they walk across the club floor and down the hall to Walker's office. James spots Rumlow and Hoskins standing outside of Walker's office. Hoskins has his head inside while Rumlow notices the three of them immediately.
"What the fuck're you doing here?" He growls.
"Who is that?" Walker calls.
"It's Barnes and his fuckin cronies. I'll get rid of 'em, boss."
James scoffs as Rumlow strolls toward him in a cheap suit with a pen sticking out of the pocket. He's doing his best to look like a goddamn extra from Goodfellas. Fucking asshole. James cracks his neck and smiles as Rumlow stops in front of him, reaching out to grab his jacket.
"Nice suit. How much did it cost you?"
"More than your fuckin' car," James replies evenly.
"What are you doing here?"
James reaches over and plucks the pen out of Rumlow's jacket, examining it. It's black and gold with intricate detailing and engraving. This must be thousands of dollars. James likes it. He glances at Rumlow and smirks.
"Jesus, what's this a Monblanc?"
He knows exactly what it is. It's a Monblanc fountain pen. It was in his shipment to Yelena. A gift for all of the business that they've been doing together. He likes to let his business partners know that they're appreciated, and it's a really fucking nice pen. These things cost more than what Rumlow makes in a month on his abysmal LAPD salary.
Hoskins is nowhere to be found and the door to Walker's office is closed now. Coward.
"I dunno," Rumlow says with a shrug. "It's a fuckin pen."
James's eyes go wide and a psychotic smile spreads across his face.
"Just a fuckin' pen? Just a fuckin' pen? You carry this shit around and you don't even know how much it costs? Where'd you get this?"
"Walker gave it to me."
James smiles and flips the pen between his fingers.
"Walker gave it to you..."
Without warning, he grabs Rumlow by the chin and jams the pen into his jugular, blood spurting out like a waterfall onto his suit. Everything is stained red within seconds and Rumlow gags and chokes on his own blood. It's everywhere - it's on Rumlow, it's on him. James is covered in it, and he doesn't care. He's seeing red, literally and figuratively. He keeps stabbing him, weeks of pent-up rage goes into every jab. A sick squelching sound fills the air and all James smells is copper.
"JUST A FUCKIN' PEN, HUH? JUST A FUCKIN' PEN? YOU FUCKIN' PIECE OF SHIT!"
He stabs him over and over again until Rumlow's legs give out and he collapses on the floor, eyes wide as he gurgles on his own blood. James kicks him over and over again until Rumlow's body goes limp and he stops fighting. The three of them watch as he takes his last wheezing breath.
"You think I give a shit about killing a cop?" James leans over and spits on him. "Loki, take his body and put it in the trunk."
"You got it, Barnes."
He pockets the pen. He'll have to order Yelena a new one. James steps over Rumlow's body and kicks down the door to walker's office.
"HI, JOHN!" He roars. Walker is pointing a pistol at him. James tilts his head. "Awww, Johnny boy! I'm disappointed in you! Is that any way to treat a guest in your establishment?"
James gasps when he sees the piles of drugs in baggies on Walker's desk, along with weapons and cash. His drugs, weapons, and cash. He's not afraid of Walker or the gun that's pointed in his face, because Steve has one aimed right at Walker's forehead.
And Steve never misses.
"Where's your little bodyguard?" James taunts.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"
"I'm taking what's mine."
"The fuck you are."
"I offered you a deal, Walker. I told you you would get Lennox back if you gave me what's mine. And look at you, spitting it right back in my fucking face."
Walker takes a step toward James and they hear the unmistakable sound of Steve cocking the hammer on his gun.
"Careful," he warns.
"You didn't want to play fair, Walker. How much of this shipment have you sold?"
"I'm not going to tell you shit."
James nods.
"I figured as much." He pulls out his phone and holds up Yelena's contact information. "One call, and the Widows won't stop until you're dead — actually, I might make it a game! Wouldn't that be fun?!"
"Where's Rumlow?" Walker hisses.
James laughs and raises his arms.
"Come on, Walker. You're smart enough to piece this together." James reaches for one of the rifles on the desk. An AK-47. Cheaply made, but you buy enough of them in bulk and you can make some money. Walker sells them to gangs because they're cheap, and then he looks like a big hero when he confiscates them to make the streets of Los Angeles safer.
"I'm taking—"
Walker shoots, the bullet flying past James's head and into the wall, and a picture of his wife and kids. James lets out a surprised yelp and a manic giggle as he looks behind him.
"How poetic."
Steve doesn't hesitate to shoot Walker in the shoulder. Walker screams and jumps back. In one fluid motion, James grabs the rifle on Walker's desk and uses it to knock his gun out of his hand. He then proceeds to smash Walker's face in with the butt end of the gun.
"IT DIDN'T HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS, JOHN!" James roars with each hit until Walker's face is battered and bloodied. He knows not to kill him. He doesn't want to do that yet. Walker's head rolls back.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you," he rasps as blood spurts from his mouth.
"No you're not. I haven't even started playing my hand yet, Johnny, and you're out here showing me all of your cards!" He leans over and grabs Walker by the back of the neck, propping his head up so that John looks at him through two swollen and bruised eyes. He speaks in a very slow and patronizing tone, the way you would talk to a dog if it pissed on the floor. Although, comparing Walker to a dog is an insult to dogs. James likes dogs.
"What I just did to you? Killing your cop friend and fucking up your face? That's called a message. You with me, Johnny?" Walker nods. "Atta boy. So, you're going to take that message, and you're going to tell your little piggy friends at the LAPD that the patrols are coming back to Skid Row, and that the gangbangers you were going to sell these guns to jumped you while you were in your car outside. You came here to do some investigating - I'd spare your colleagues and family the embarrassment of the Chief of Police running a goddamn brothel out of here." James laughs. "Wouldn't that be embarrassing for you?!"
His lip curls into a snarl.
"You're in too deep, Walker. You wanted to play games with me and you fucking lost. Now, I'm taking these drugs and these guns and you'll give me back the rest of the shipment that's in evidence, or I'll walk back to the LAPD myself, shoot every fucking cop in that building, and take it myself. How do you want this to go down?"
"I don't have the money for patrols," Walker slurs.
"I can fix that," James replies. "I'll wire you 5 million. Tonight. Consider it a community gift for all the shit I've put you through." James sighs and wipes some of the blood off of Walker's cheek as he lets his head roll back.
"Sweetheart, if you play nice with me, I'll give you what you want."
Walker groans.
"I'll take that as a yes." He dials Loki. "Laufeyson? Yeah, we need your help taking this shit out of here, and lugging Walker outside."
He hangs up the phone and sighs, glancing at Steve. James fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and a lighter. He lights two and hands one to Steve. They lean up against Walker's desk while he passes out behind them. James chuckles and shakes his head, still covered in Rumlow's blood.
"What a morning, huh?" Steve asks.
James grunts and blows a smoke ring.
"You're telling me, pal."