Bratva Beast by B.B. Hamel
Mack
“Did you kill the girl yet, or are you takin’ your sweet time again?”
German lit a cigarette and took a long drag. I made a face and gestured at the cancer stick. “When’d you take up smoking?”
“Been a stressful year. Answer the question.”
I leaned back against the stoop behind me and stared across the street at the bar where Fiona worked. It was a quiet night, a little on the humid side, and most people had to get up early and go into their boring little offices the next day.
I almost envied them.
Except not really.
I studied German for a second. Square jaw, clear blue eyes, good-looking guy, though not much in the affect department—he rarely ever smiled, and I doubt he ever laughed in his entire life.
“Taking my time,” I said, checking out my nails.
“Figured.” German flicked his ash. “Too busy worrying about yourself to care about the family.”
I should’ve taken offense to that, but he wasn’t wrong.
German and I, we had a lot in common. He was a big guy in the family these days, ran his own crew, made a lot of money for the Pakhan. He followed the rules just like I did, except my rules were my own, and his rules came from above. He obeyed orders—I ignored them.
So in a lot of ways, we were extremely similar.
Except in the one way that mattered.
“You ever stop and ask yourself why the Pakhan would want some girl killed?”
He shrugged, took a drag. “Not at all.”
“Maybe you should. She’s not even involved in the game.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does.”
He stubbed the cigarette out and flicked the butt toward the street. “Nasty habit,” he said. “Shouldn’t have taken it up.”
“Find out why he wants her dead.”
He stood up and shook his head. “I know why they want her dead. The Doyles are getting stronger and the Pakhan thinks they can start to scare them off by killing some minor family members. The girl’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You really believe that?”
“Doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“It’s a crock of shit. There are a ton of better targets, plenty of minor cousins out on the streets, but he chose her for a reason.”
“He’s not paying you to question, Mack. Go in that bar and kill the girl or we’ll send someone else without all your annoying habits.”
I grinned and stretched. “You love my annoying habits. They keep me alive.”
“Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t. Go do your job, asshole.” He walked off, hands shoved in his pockets.
I watched him go, my smile slowly fading away.
Fiona should’ve left the city already. If she had any brains in that pretty head, she would’ve hopped on the first bus or train or borrowed a car or done whatever it took to get the hell far away from here.
And yet she hadn’t listened.
Maybe I hadn’t made my point—though then again, I got the feeling she believed me as she came on my fingers.
So she was sticking around for a different reason.
I followed her to Washington Park the day before. She met with someone, but I couldn’t get a good view of him—their backs were to me the whole time—and when she walked away, she was visibly upset about something.
Could’ve been an old boyfriend, but I didn’t think so.
I stood up and sighed, cracking my neck, then my knuckles, then my back.
This whole job was complicated from the start. German didn’t like me asking questions and kicking the hornet’s nest, but I couldn’t help myself. When the boss assigned me to kill a man, typically it was obvious why he had to be removed from the board.
In this case though, it was a mystery, and I didn’t like mysteries.
I was a man that preferred things honest.
I crossed the street and pushed into Fiona’s place of business. I didn’t bother trying to hide this time and sat down at the bar. Fiona spotted me right away and her face turned bright red, but she ignored me while she filled a couple glasses of wine and passed them over to an older couple drinking together.
She finally came over reluctantly.
“What can I get for you?” She wiped her hands on a towel nervously.
“Whiskey, please.”
She hesitated, frowned at me, but got the drink. I sipped it and put cash on the table with a very generous tip.
She stared at the hundred-dollar bill. “What the hell is that?”
“That’s a hundred dollars. Consider it a bribe or a down payment, whatever you like.”
“Down payment for what?”
“For you getting the fuck out of my city.” I leaned toward her, eyes narrowing, jaw flexing.
She stared back with surprise then snatched the money. “I’m not going anywhere, so unless you plan on killing me, can you please just leave me the hell alone?”
“No, thanks. There’s a reason you won’t get the hell out of here and now I’m curious.”
“Great, good for you. What I do is none of your business.”
“Actually, it’s entirely my business, considering I’ve been hired to murder you.”
She grimaced and looked around. The girl on my right gaped at me, and I gave her my best charming smile.
“He’s kidding,” Fiona quickly said.
I shrugged and leaned toward the girl. She as young, maybe mid-twenties, with a low-cut top and way too much lip gloss. “I’m a hitman, but don’t tell anyone, okay?” I winked and sipped my drink.
The girl laughed then turned her back to me and whispered with her friend.
“Can you just get out of here?” Fiona hissed, leaning toward me across the bar.
“Tell me why you won’t leave the city, and I’ll get you off again like I did the other night.”
Her mouth fell open, but she quickly gathered herself. “I’m serious, Mack. I’ll get my manager to call the cops.”
“You remember my name. That’s got to mean something.” I tilted my head. “Was that night our first date? Did we fall in love? It’s a good story, I can’t wait to tell our kids how we first met. ‘See, sweetie, Daddy followed Mommy after work, stole her phone, then almost killed her, but finger-fucked her on South Street and got her off instead.’ Beautiful, really. Someone should write a romance novel about it.”
Fiona’s face turned bright red, as if it weren’t bad enough, and she slammed her hands down on the bar. “Enough,” she hissed. “Can you please fuck off?”
By now, she was making a scene. I sighed as her fellow bartender walked over, glaring at me. “You okay, Fiona?” he asked.
“This gentleman was just leaving.” Fiona stared at me. “Right, sir?”
“Of course.” I threw back my drink. “I wouldn’t want any trouble. I’m the kind of person that avoids it when bad things come calling.”
“Just get out of here,” the male bartender said.
He was lucky I had rules. No excess bodies, no needless blood. Otherwise, I would’ve enjoyed beating that worthless, cheap smile into a disgusting pulp.
I left and sat on the stoop across the street again. German would love to see this, the asshole. He was probably somewhere smoking those stupid American Spirits like a hipster kid from 2005.
God, sometimes the mob really pissed me off.
I passed the time by walking around the block. I found that walking kept me in good shape and helped my mind work through problems. And my main problem was this: why would Fiona Doyle stay in the city when she knew the Morozov family wanted her dead bad enough to send a hitman?
People were, in general, not trying to die. Most folks wanted to keep on breathing for more than a few days.
Not Fiona though. Apparently, she had a death wish.
There had to be a reason. I kept coming back to it, over and over again. There had to be a reason she wanted to stay, and I needed to find out why. There weren’t many good excuses to stick around once a mafia took a contract out on your head, and I wanted to know what Fiona’s was.
I was curious like that.
At the end of the night, the regulars filtered out first, followed by the staff a half hour later—except Fiona. I circled around the block, heart ticking away like a hamster on a running wheel, until I spotted her trying to slip down the back alley. She must’ve known I’d be waiting.
I hurried up and fell in stride next to her.
She jumped, glared at me, then crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m not doing this,” she said.
“Not doing what? I’m just escorting you home. You do realize there are people in this city that want you dead, right?”
“I’m not playing around, Mack. Can you please leave me alone?”
I grabbed her arm and stopped her. “I followed you to Washington Park.”
She stared at me. Her mouth opened, she went to say something, she stopped. Gently, she pulled from my grip, and I let her go.
“That was nothing,” she said finally.
“I know who you met with,” I said, bluffing my ass off, but I was a good liar. “You walked away looking pretty fucking upset. Question is, why? And is that why you won’t leave the city like I said you should?”
“Leave me alone.” A whisper now and she wouldn’t meet my gaze.
So I was getting warmer.
“You think this is some kind of game for me?” I moved closer, voice dropping softer. “The Morozov family wants you dead, and I’m the man they send when they want to make sure it happens.”
“Guess they chose wrong this time.” A slight smile.
“Guess so. Tell me what you got yourself into, Fiona. I might be able to help.”
She wanted to do it. I could see it all over her—I bet whatever it was dragged her down like an anchor around her neck. But she only shook her head and started walking again.
“I can’t, I’m sorry. Just leave me alone.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. This girl was going to be a real pain in my ass.
I hurried after her, caught up, and grabbed her arm. This time, I didn’t let her pull away, and pushed her against the brick wall of the row home to her left. She stumbled then gasped in surprise as I pinned her there, heedless of anyone watching—although the street was otherwise empty at two thirty in the morning.
“I’m going to admit something to you,” I said softly, trying not to look down at her chest as she breathed hard and fast. “I’ve never held back before. You’re the first target that I didn’t finish as quickly as possible, and it’s got me all fucked up. I keep thinking about you kissing me, and how slick your pussy was, and the way you moved your hips—”
“Stop it.” She looked away, closing her eyes. “That was a mistake. I was emotional.”
“You were turned on.” I cocked my head. “What is it you like about me, huh? You think I’m handsome? You like that I could cut your throat right here?”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s right, get mad. I like it when you’re pissed. Maybe that’s what gets you off. Are you dripping wet right now?”
“Asshole.” She shoved me, but I didn’t budge. “You don’t know me, okay? You have no clue what I’m going through. I don’t need you messing this up for me, not right now, not when Connor—” She stopped, her eyes going wide.
And there it was. The girl was so easy to rile up.
I couldn’t help the devilish smile that spread across my lips. “And who, exactly, is Connor?” I asked.
“Just leave me alone,” she said, groaning. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
This was going in circles. I could keep fucking with her but eventually she’d scream and I’d have to back off or risk some bystander calling the cops. I didn’t want to prolong this, so I did the only thing that came to mind.
I kissed her.
Just like that night, except our roles were reversed. I wanted to knock her off balance in the same way she had wanted to distract me.
And just like that night, the kiss went from a confused jumble to a delicious, pulse-threading moment of bliss.
She kissed me back with a little moan in the back of her throat.
I didn’t push things. I broke it off after a few seconds, only enough to remind her of what we had, that strange, impossible electricity that arced between us like a storm.
“Let me help you,” I said, my lips still inches from hers.
“I don’t think you can.” Her eyes were squeezed shut and she didn’t try to get away. “You don’t know what’s at stake.”
“Tell me then.”
A long pause. I ran a hand through her hair, which only made her moan softly.
“Connor’s my brother.” She opened her eyes and stared at me.
I nodded slowly. I knew she had a younger brother, but I didn’t know what his name was. “What’s going on with him?”
“If I tell you, they’ll kill him. Renzo was clear—”
I pulled back slightly. “Renzo? You mean that Lionetti Capo?”
She chewed on her lip then nodded once. “They have Connor. Took him a few weeks back. My whole family thinks he’s dead, but I know he’s alive.”
I released her hair and stepped back, staring at her.
The girl was trouble.
So fucking much trouble.
“The Lionettis have your brother and you won’t leave the city. They’re blackmailing you, aren’t they?”
She nodded and looked away. “They want information on my family. They think I can get it, but I’m nothing, I’m not even involved with the business. It’s so fucked up, but if I don’t deliver, they’re going to kill him, my little brother.”
I ran my hands down my cheeks and started pacing. Typical Lionetti move, those assholes were all about blackmail and trickery. There was a reason they ascended to the throne of the city and a reason they fell just as quickly.
If they had her brother, then he was fucked.
I couldn’t tell her that, obviously. She was clearly willing to risk her own life to save the poor bastard, even though there was no chance of bringing him home. The Lionettis would never let him go, not after using him against someone in the Doyle family. They weren’t that stupid.
But apparently Fiona was.
“I can help.” Three words tumble from my lips before I had a chance to think about them, and instantly I regretted it.
What the hell was I going to do? I was a hitman with certain skills, that was true, but I didn’t have many contacts in the Lionetti family, and my Pakhan wanted Fiona dead.
Which meant he probably knew something about her situation.
Interesting, very interesting.
“Why?” she asked, shaking her head. “Why the hell would you help me? Aren’t you supposed to kill me?”
It was a good question.
“I don’t know why,” I admitted, spreading my hands out helplessly. “My whole life I’ve been killing, and this is the first time I bothered to stop and question things, and now I’m finding that it’s much more complicated than I realized. Maybe I think you don’t deserve to die. Maybe you’re just a good kisser, I don’t know.”
She cracked a little smile. “I can’t be that good.”
“You’re good, trust me.”
Her smile disappeared. “I don’t think I can trust you.”
“What other options do you have?”
“I’ll give the Lionettis what they want.” She pushed off the wall and started walking again. I fell in beside her, keeping pace as she stared at the ground and hugged herself. “That’ll be enough. I’ll get better at this spying thing and give them everything. They’ll let him go.”
“You really think that?” I asked softly.
She grimaced and I knew the truth. The girl wasn’t stupid after all.
“I have to hope.”
I put my hand on her arm, but I didn’t stop her. “How about we cut a deal.”
She glanced at me. “Why would I do that?”
“Hear me out. My bosses want you dead, but I don’t plan on actually following through with that job, I think it’s pretty obvious at that point.”
“Thanks, I appreciate you not killing me.”
I nodded. “No problem. But I need them to think you’re dead.”
“I’m not sure how you’re supposed to do that.”
“Come live with me.”
She snorted but stopped walking again, staring up at me under a skinny tree that hung slightly out into the street.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Live with me. Keep a low profile for a while. I’ll tell my bosses you’re finished, and that’ll buy you time. Meanwhile, we’ll work on your Connor problem.”
“They’ll just kill him.”
“Then tell them you’re not dead, just hiding out. I don’t know, we’ll work on the details, but right now we can help each other.”
“I can’t. This is insane. I don’t even know you.”
“My name’s Mack. I murder people for a living.” I stepped close, pulled her against me, and kissed her again. Her tongue was like silver against mine. “When I kiss you, you moan. What else do you need to know?”
She chewed her lip. “You’re insane.”
“So they tell me. Think about it, all right? I don’t think you’ve got many other options.”
I let her go and walked away.
“Wait,” she called out. “How do I know I can trust you? I mean, really? You can’t tell anyone about Connor.”
“I won’t tell a soul.” I zipped my lips shut and threw away the key, then kept walking.
I felt her watching me and smiled a bit as I shoved my hands in my pockets.
So the Lionettis were behind this. I should’ve figured someone like them was involved—this city was crawling with gangsters, thieves, and immoral assholes that would do anything to get ahead.
Of course they kidnapped her brother and of course they’re using him to extract information from her.
What I didn’t know was how my boss knew about it and why he’d want the girl dead.
I could come up with some guesses.
But guesses weren’t good enough.
This whole thing stank and all I cared about was getting Fiona out of it alive—which seemed less and less likely the closer to it all I got.
