I entered the penthouse at midnight. It was dark inside, yet I caught faint movement in the kitchen. Alexa's friend and roommate, Chloe, hunted the fridge for late-night snacks. Even when she strolled across the entirety of the living quarters with packaged goods tucked under her arms, she had no idea that I stood by the locked front door.
Her bedroom door clicked shut.
I dropped the car keys and phone on the marble sideboard and ventured to the guest room across from the master bedroom. My hand stilled over the gilded door handle. Every chamber provided en-suite bathrooms, yet I continued to use the private bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom. It's the only time I get to see Alexa.
Alexa struggled with her sister's death, which is unfathomable. Kathy, the unhinged mental case, tried to kill her younger sister. Had I not appeared when I did, Alexa would be dead. Still, the empathetic woman grieved and cried in the hours of culpability, even though she was unblameworthy. I hear her muffled lamenting through the wall from the guest bedroom when I lay awake in bed at night. Her sobbing bled into the pillow. Her heartbreak echoed through the halls. I hated how much I felt it. Her pain brought me pain and emotional anxiousness I had never experienced before. It takes great resilience to not climb into her bed and comfort her. We had made a verbal agreement. It is unwise to overstep boundaries, and sharing a bed is most definitely overstepping boundaries. I am not allowed to spend the night with her in my arms. It's a rule I implemented to ensure neither of us became too attached or invested. Yet, I stood at her bedside at night, listening to her soft breathing, watching her sleep peacefully before dark memories turned her dreams into nightmares, and her sobbing would proceed all over again.
Like now, for instance. I opened the door to solitude and darkness and loomed above her sleeping form. Dim light from the hallway outlined her body. She looked far too small in the king-sized bed. Her dark hair blended into the black sheet and coverlet. Barely noticeable goosebumps freckled her soft, creamy skin and the oversized T-shirt she had pinched from the wardrobe buried her slender physique.
I yearned to touch her. I crouched at the side of the bed and palmed her cheek cautiously. Her furrowed eyebrows softened upon detectable contact. My thumb swept across her blemished cheek as if to wipe away hours upon hours of stained tears. I wish I could remove the ache for her. I wish I had the power to make her smile once more. "You will get through it," I whispered, knowing she could not hear me. "I promise."
Alexa's parted lips expelled shallow breaths.
I traced her nose with the pad of my finger and, leaning in, kissed the corner of her delectable mouth. It was faint yet unhurried. I had to pull away, but my forehead fell to her shoulder instead, where I stayed for longer than I should have to feel her normal resting heart rate beneath my palm until she sensed the presence of concern and jerked into semi-consciousness.
"Liam," Alexa croaked in my ear, and my eyes closed. "Oh, God. I don't want to wake up." Her alarmed voice seized my heart. "I need to stay asleep. Please, give me something to take it away."
I shook my head.
Alexa tried to sit up, and I caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed. "Liam," she cried, her arms wriggling beneath hand-grasped restraint. "I didn't want her to die." Her tears warmed my cheek as I pressed our temples together. "I loved her. She loved me."
Yes, deep down, I believe Kathy did love Alexa. Alas, she loved their childhood captor more.
"Kathy was so sick, Liam." Her strained whimpers breathed in my ear. "I should have seen the warning signs and helped her. That's what family is for. They are supposed to help one another, stand by each other. I failed her. She needed me, and I let her down. I let you kill her."
"You are unaccountable for my actions."
"If it weren't for me, Kathy would still be alive."
No, Kathy betrayed the syndicate. "I was going to kill her regardless."
Alexa's breath hitched.
"She is gone," I rasped, and she suppressed raw sobs. "I said it once, and I will say it again. I will not apologise for choosing you."
I primed myself for another argument, but Alexa's head dropped into the pillow in defeat. Teary-eyed, she roved over our reflection in the mirrored ceiling,
I knuckled her tears away. "Do you honestly believe she would have let him go?" I asked, and her lips wobbled. "Ask yourself the unbearable, Alexa. If she had to choose, make an impromptu decision, would it have been you or him?"
Alexa's face scrunched up.
My hand smoothed over her delicate throat. "I asked you a question."
One tear fell from the corner of her eye. "I lost her, didn't I?"
"Yes," I said frankly. "Now, you can go through life, reliving her betrayal, the pain and grief, or you can hold onto precious memories that not even God himself can erase." Her round, wet eyes reacquainted with mine. "Here." Helping her sit straight, I tilted her chin. "Share something with me."
Alexa's throat worked on a forced swallow. "Like what?"
I never looked away. "Your sister."
Her breath shuddered. "I used to wait for Kathy to come home from my bedroom window," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "I loved my mother, but the house was too quiet when Kathy wasn't around. Some nights, I would fall asleep on the window bench because I was so tired, but I refused to go back to bed until I knew she was home safely.
"Anyway," she continued, "I overheard loud noises once and awoke with a start. They were arguing, Kathy and our mother, because she came home too late. My mum was worried sick. She was crying. Kathy was crying. I was listening at the top of the stairs..." Her face hardened while she revisited the memory. "Mum found emergency contraception in Kathy's bedroom. Why did I not remember that before?"
I had no response.
"That happens sometimes. I get snippets here and there..." Alexa glanced at the curtained window. "Kathy stormed up the stairs. I panicked and hid behind the bannister, hoping she missed my snooping." Her smile was sad. "Of course, she caught me. But she never yelled at me or anything. She just took my hand and asked if I wanted to go on an adventure.
"Kathy put me first. Even when she hurt the most, I was her main priority. Her tears didn't matter. My mother's upset did not matter. I mattered. It pained her to see me so frightened.
"We waited until our mother went to bed and snuck into the woods behind our house." Her eyes welled up. "And we walked right to the edge of the cliffside and waited for the sun.
"I was such a disappointment." She looked away. "I think I fell asleep within five minutes. Kathy woke me up in time to witness the birds soar into the sunrise."
I forced her eyes back to me. "Go on."
"It's stupid." Her cheeks darkened. "Kathy said, when we grew up and left home, we could fly high with those birds. We could go wherever we wanted to go, just as long as it was together. I was willing to fly to the end of the earth to stay with her." Not one of us broke away from the intensity of our gaze. "Am I foolish for believing her?"
"No. Hold onto her," I said, and she seemed puzzled. "You need to remember Kathy for what she was, not the person she became. She did not lie to you, Alexa. When she took your hand and promised you a better future, she meant it. She placed you before everyone because she loved you more than she loved herself."
Alexa hung onto every word.
"Evil ripped your family apart, but it is powerless against the innate bond of love. Yes, Kathy was unwell, and she lost her way. You kept those memories alive for both of you, and you will continue to preserve those memories because it's all you have left."
"I am scared." Terror etched her pale features. "I don't know life without her."
"You might have been the younger sister, but you were always the stronger one."
"How can you say that?" she gestured to herself. "I am a mess."
"You have outlived far more than most do in a lifetime." If only she could see herself the way I see her. "Seeing is believing, Alexa. Remember that."
Her nod was agreeable. "No matter what happens. I will never stop loving her."
I cannot relate. I despised Kathy Pearl with every fibre of my being. "I have to shower. Why not head to the kitchen and fix yourself something to eat?" The woman refused to leave the bedroom. "You must be hungry."
"It's too late." Her eyes followed me around the room. "Maybe tomorrow."
Motion sensor lights brightened the spacious walk-in wardrobe upon entry. I punched the code to the safe, extracted ammunition, diamond knuckle dusters, and pondered between tailored suits. I almost selected blue Dormeuil Vanquish bespoke when Alexa came to my side.
"I like the blue suit because it matches your eyes." Her investigatory fingers traced the Brioni's fine fabric. "But the grey suit paired with a black shirt is my favourite look on you. If anything, the colours hone your features."
I was fascinated by her punctiliousness. Typically, the women I entertained noted price labels and designer brands, not the minutiae of appearance. At least, not to my knowledge. "It's just a suit."
Alexa smiled widely. "Then, why the colour-coded ensemble?"
"Well, you can never have too many..." My hands are buried in my trouser pockets. "Presentation is the key to success. It's for a good cause." She laughed once, and it was nice to hear. "I am a suit aficionado. Sue me."
When she reached for the slate-grey three-piece, I lowered my head to her shoulder and kissed her there. It was unplanned, but it felt natural to do so.
Our eyes aligned. Her hazel hues to curious blues.
What is it about you? I thought in reverie. Her beauty is unmatched. Her pained eyes told sad stories, yet she rarely spoke of them.
I was completely lost in her, and it terrified me.
Taking the hanger from her hand, I laid the suit onto the chesterfield sofa and excused myself to the en-suite.
Alexa had fallen back to sleep when I re-emerged twenty minutes later.
***
"How is Alexa?" Brad blew warm breath into his cold hands and rubbed them together to generate heat, which I imagine is ineffectual as it is bastard freezing tonight. "Has she picked up yet?"
Alexa's disconsolateness was enervating yet understandable. I appreciate that she loved her sister, but Kathy Pearl is unworthy of remembrance. I am glad she is gone because I can finally wash my hands of the woman. "Alexa hasn't stepped foot outside of the bedroom."
"Did you find out why Kathy attacked her?" Lighting the end of a blunt, he blew smoke toward the night sky. "Do you think she is the person that chased Alexa?"
"It's likely." I exhaled heavily. "As for questioning? Alexa is pretty tight-lipped." Not entirely true. I had interrogated the girl, but she wasn't overly forthcoming. "I will try again in a few days."
"What?" His brow bent. "Make her talk."
"Alexa can divulge when she is ready."
"Christ." Brad passed Nate a knowing glance. "What did I tell you? The Boss has gone soft."
Both men chuckled at my expense.
"Never thought I would see the day." Brad grinned at me. "And here I thought 'Warren demands answers.'"
"Enough." Ignoring his pettiness, I pointed to the ball of fluff on his head. "What is that?"
"It's a fucking bobble hat." He doesn't understand why I'd even ask. "What does it look like?"
"I know it's a bobble hat, you piece of shit," I spit back, "but that doesn't explain why you'd wear it."
"Because it looks pretty, and I am bastard cold. Is that okay with you?" He dropped a large gym bag at my feet. "Here is everything you asked for."
"I swear, we better make some progress tonight." Nate armed himself. "I am sick of coming out empty-handed." He has worked tirelessly to locate Bajramovic and his hidden estates. Tonight, isn't the first time we have uncovered one of his warehouses. "Third time lucky, huh?"
Squatting by the bag, I unzipped, passed firearms to the men and tucked a switchblade into my suit pocket. "Are the others ready?"
"We got ten men located in our vicinity, waiting for your orders." Nate slammed a magazine round into his gun. "I left a few at the trucks, too. In case we need back up."
"Here you go." Brad gives me a radio transceiver. "I bought these for the special occasion."
"What's wrong with the earpiece?"
"I thought it would be fun." Brad flashed me a toothy grin. "I have always wondered what it'd be like to play real-life modern warfare."
"Why is everything a fucking joke with you?"
"What?" He feigned obliviousness. "My life is pretty good right now. I got my dick sucked tonight. Got a gun in my hand, and I'm about to kill some Albanians." The toothpick balanced on his bottom lip. "Excuse me for being blissful."
Him and his fucking bliss.
"Disperse and lead troops around the building. Ambush from four corners. Kill anyone who hinders the process." I palmed the trusted Eagle. "I want every kilo before we vacate."
Leaving the men to finish up, I meandered through leafless trees and jogged down the muddied slope to an eight-foot metal fence. Fingers clinging to the wire mesh, I clambered over until my shoes hit the floor on the other side. Graffiti vandalised the crumbling walls of an old building nestled between dense woodlands and encroaching winter ice. Rough-hewn scaffolding fenced the exterior. People operated indoors. I heard their merriment through the exterior's metal casing. Skulking between two bright yellow industrial skips, I settled my back to the building wall, listening for any unwanted visitors, when patrolling night guards armed with rifles emerged through low-hanging fogs. They conversed in their native language, so I had trouble understanding their exchange, but when the larger of two males pushed his interest against the skip for a hot, passionate kiss, I took their distraction as an advantage. Tucking away the Eagle, I wiggled my fingers into leather gloves, flipped open the pocketknife and, finger smoothing along the honed blade, sidled from the darkness.
"Unë jam me brirë," the smallest male groaned as his lover palmed his cotton-clad arousal. "Me merr. E vështirë."
"Not here."
"Yes, here."
"Do ta jap ty." With his back to me, he unzipped his pants, freeing his growing length, and used force to spin his lover around. "Moan," he ordered, reaching for the guy's belt and zipper, yanking his denim jeans mid-thigh until two glowing arses illuminated. "Unë të dua."
Fisting the man's sweat-slicked shoulder-length hair, I drove the knife into his muscular shoulder, the flesh tearing and squelching as I twisted and turned the blade. "Not tonight," I rasped in his ear, and his lover, too stunned from the brutal penetration of another man's cock in his arse, caged between man-and-skip, tried to reobtain his rifle on the ground. "Is he here?" Ripping the knife from the guy's back, I sliced his throat, his choked gargles falling on deaf ears, his projected blood trickling down my leathered fingers and tossed him aside with a heavy thud. "I don't like repeating myself." Unseeing the shrivelled pecker amid masses of black netherhair between the smallest guy's legs, I shoved him against the skip, keeping a firm grip on his throat. Taunting him with the bloodied blade, I nicked the tender skin beneath his eye. "Flamur Bajramovic. Where is he?"
He whimpered, grasping my arms by the elbows. "Please, let me help him." His round, wet eyes studied the dying man on the ground. "He will bleed out."
"His life span is not my problem," I said uncaringly. "Now, answer the question." When he refused to comply, I slashed the knife across his cheek, the clean-cut ripping husky cries from his throat. "Where is he?"
"I don't know." Tears mixed with blood dripped from his jaw in beads. "Please, I beg you." His fist smashed into my jaw, and I stumbled back two steps, having not foreseen the blow. "Do të vdesësh!"
Quick on his feet, he snatched the rifle and raised his arms, ready to shoot, but I was faster, angrier. I whacked the gun out of his reach, grabbed his wrist, snapped breakable bones, and elbowed him in the face, the powerful blow knocking him out. His knees crashed to the floor before his body slumped across the concrete, kicking up construction dust.
"It's not personal." Impaling the nape of his neck with the blade, I left it there, then retrieved discarded rifles. "Quick but effective."
I stepped over the half-naked men bleeding out on the floor and chased the sound of unremitting gunfire in the distance. Fearing the safety of my men, I held the stupid transceiver, pressed the button and held it to my lips. "What happened?"
"Machine gun." Nate's line crackled. "They took out six men."
My jaw flexed. "Brad?"
"Bossman," he chirped.
A sigh of relief passed my lips. "Keep your head out of your fucking ass."
"My head is never in my ass," he responded. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to bounce."
Dumping the radio in the skip, I unobtrusively wandered around the warehouse, close to the shadows, eagle-eyed and cautious. Sporadic gunfire clipped indoors, where men battled for survival. I peered around the building's corner when someone seized my shoulder. He caught me off guard, shoving me into the wall. "Warren." His throat was thick from chain-smoking. "Sonte do të vdesësh."
Bracing myself for possible disadvantages, I threw my head back, clipping him straight in the face. "Motherfucker."
"Ju pidhi!" he bellowed, clutching his busted nose. "Do të vras!" Spear tackling me to the ground, we wrestled for an upper hand, landing brutal punches to each other's jaws. "Budalla!"
My head whipped to the side in time for his fist to strike the ground. Stealing the serrated army knife strapped to his ankle, I stabbed him in the side, his suckling flesh swallowing the jagged blade. Pain radiated off his vibrating body. I watched the life drain from his eyes, felt his blood gush through my fingers, and then he collapsed on top of me like dead weight.
I rolled him to the side and stared at the dark sky. Once more, I wiped someone's blood from my leather-clad hands, stepped over his lifeless body and gravitated to the rusted back entrance: two double doors and a broken padlock.
I unclipped the bolt, cracked access and headed inside. An indescribable stench irritated my nostrils. Darkness and shadows clambered the sewage walls. I stopped at another door. On-going shooting reiterated throughout, and shrilling screams echoed as bodies hit the deck. I hoped the men were safe but had faith in my most trusted. I slipped into the dark cavernous space bursting with wooden crates. As I closed in on the commotion, I got closer to bright lights and upheaval.
Hearing Brad's ebullience pacified me until somebody came into my line of vision. He entered the small space lined with metal cranes and importation. Rabidly frothing, he brandished a firearm and pulled the trigger, the bullet whistling through the humid air, ripped through the top of my arm. It burnt, scorching my skin. Before he could do any more damage, I let fate steer the Desert Eagle and blindly aimed fire as we both ducked behind containers to evade death. I am a sharp-shooter.
My marksman skills never failed me.
His chest took the final blow and, although I was too adrenalised to witness his faceplant to the floor, I bore triumph, slumped on the ground and clasped an arm to the feverish wound in my arm. "Motherfucker," I spat through clenched teeth. Propping my back against the metal partition, I slipped out of my suit jacket, lost the shirt sleeve and examined the damage. My fingers adhered to ruptured skin to staunch the bleeding. "Fucking hell."
Brad came into my peripheral. Fixing his skewed bobble hat, he scurried between accumulated containers. "Christ, Bossman." Squatting in front of me, he assessed the rippled flesh. "How the fuck did you manage this bullshit?"
"Heard your gob," I joshed, ignoring the pain. "Presumed an all-clear."
"We lost nine men." He extracted the silk napkin from his double-breasted suit jacket. "But we came out stronger."
My jaw steeled. "Is Flamur here?"
"No." Fingers sinking into my bloodied skin, he searched for the bullet. "Almost."
"Fuck," I growled, banging the back of my head to the crate. "Hurry up."
His fingers curled around the bullet until it fell into his possession. "Done." Throwing it over his shoulder, he tied the silk napkin around my upper arm, preventing further blood loss. "You will need to hold out until we get back."
I dragged on the suit jacket, buttoned-up, and followed Brad toward the uproar. In the equidistance of the cavernous warehouse, loyal men shackled the Albanians. Grouped, shackled and gagged, they blubbered hot tears as I approached. I eyed the stationed syndicate members. They equally wore unreadable expressions, but their eyes lingered on the men we had lost. I went to the closest, his body sprawled across the floor, submerged in blood, and reached down to obtain the military chain on his neck. "Where did we get the restraints?"
Nate lifted heavy-duty chains from inside an opened crane. "Found them here."
"Christ." Brad wrenched open a wooden case. "Look at these." He revealed a pkm machine gun and aimed it at the Albanians. "I bet this bad boy slices through flesh like a knife to butter."
I rolled my eyes. "Brad—"
He triggered the weapon, and the machine gun chewed through belts of ammunition, bullets ripping and pinging into his chosen victim, splattering blood and flesh in its wake. "Fucking Christ." His tone vibrated with excitement. "Look at that." Motioning to the unrecognisable dead guy on the floor, he extended a low whistle. "What did I tell you? Knife to butter."
My frown held. "Satisfied?"
Passing the gun to Nate, he dusted off his hands. "Fucking beautiful."
Nate overturned the weapon to read its engraving. "They're Military."
Accepting the crowbar from Brad, I chiselled into a wooden crate, prying open the lid. It came off smoothly, exhibiting boxed leather shoes. I flung them to the side, rummaged through sawdust and found heroin and cocaine packages. I moved to the next crane, uncovered the Glocks, the Hecklers, and helped myself to a bottle of imported Russian vodka. "Reverse the trucks," I ordered, and a younger soldier jogged to the loading asphalt. "I want everything distributed tonight. Nate, make the call and arrange drop-off points. I want merchandise back on the streets of London."
The trucks reversed near the open entrance, and the men collectively conveyed stock onboard.
Nudging the tied-up Albanian with his boot, Brad asked, "What do we do about these?"
A myriad of men peered up at me from the floor, rope muffling their sobbed begging. They probably have wives back home, possibly children. "They're not my problem."
The hope in their eyes diminished.
Unscrewing the vodka bottle, I elevated my arm. Fear replaced sadness as I drenched their soiled clothes and bloodied profiles. Their pleading eyes homed in on Brad, who fumbled with the matchbox I tossed his way.
Swigging leftover vodka, I stood back and admired my handiwork. "Burn it."
"No, please," one screamed, his body spasming to break free. "I beg you."
Howling shrieks reiterated and bounced off the walls, the men roaring, striving to eliminate limitations. Brad scraped the match, ignited the dancing flame and released it onto the older male before repeating the process. Orange and blue hues swept and licked across their bodies, the scent of burning flesh starting to permeate the once scentless air.
Lighting a cigarette, I watched their skin melt and listened to their agonised wailing as heat danced warmth across my face, the fire catching and claiming its nearby stock.
Like every other time when we locate one of Flamur's hidden gems, I obliterate them with cataclysmic effect to burn his ego alongside the billowing flames of his crumbling establishments.
I leave the warehouse alongside my men and return to impending Bentleys. In the background, the building groaned. Metal joists incurved as smoke and uncontrollable flames scattered embers into the starless sky.
"I am Hank fucking Marvin." Brad unlocked the vehicle door, climbing behind the steering wheel. "Takeout?"
"Word." Nate ducked into the backseat. "Thai."
Relaxing on the passenger seat, I lowered the window. "I need to get this arm stitched up first."
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