After leaving Sienna, I drove straight to Dante’s restaurant, Rico’s, over in Brooklyn. It’s safe to say he won’t be speaking out of turn for a long fucking time. Try the rest of his life.
Luca wanted me to deliver a message to the rest of the mob and so I fucking did. Dante was just unlucky that I had rage burning inside me, needing to be released. Anger that should have been inflicted on Jamie.
Pushing open the wooden restaurant door, the chipped red paint scrapes off under my fingers. The chattering of Italian, and laughing, goes dead. Four older men and Dante are perched at a wooden round table in the middle of the restaurant. Playing cards and dollars are scattered over the table. Cigar smoke clouds the air and as I harshly inhale, the toxic chemicals burn the back of my throat. Without a word, I stride over to the table, dragging out the white metal foldable seat. It scrapes across the uneven wooden flooring before I flip it around and straddle it. All eyes in the room are on me. Not a sound leaves their mouths, and each are looking like they have seen a ghost. Slowly, I empty the magazine of my gun, bronze bullets clinking one by one on the pine table we sit around. The only noise in the empty unit is water dripping second by second from the hole in the back corner. Slamming my now empty gun on the table so forcefully the bullets jump in the air, I notice no one so much as flinches because they’re too scared to move.
They know why I’m here. They know who I am and who sent me.
Picking up a single bullet between my thumb and index finger, without saying a word, I hold it up for them all to see. Then thrusting the bullet between my fingers into Dante’s chest.
“Swallow,” I command.
“What, no.” His voice trembles.
“I won’t repeat myself again. Swallow,” I demand without hesitation.
He really doesn’t want to piss me off tonight.
Slowly, he retrieved the bullet from between my fingers. I can feel a slight shake as he does. His eyes are wide, pleading for a way out.
Well, he isn’t getting one.
Lifting the bullet, he holds it between his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Snatching the shiny metal blade from my sock, I put it up against his carotid artery just on the left of his neck. With slight pressure, it digs in enough for the sharp blade to break the layers of skin and crimson starts to slowly drip.
That seemed to give him the motivation to get on with my command. The bullet enters his mouth as he swallows. A cough stutters as the bullet makes its journey down his throat.
I loosened the pressure of the knife against his neck. His body sags slightly at the relief.
Picking up another bullet, I thrust it into his face, his eyes wide.
“Again.”
His so-called friends watch on in horror.
Quicker this time, he grabs the bullet and swallows it, holding in the gagging as it penetrates his insides.
“Good. Now open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
He does as I say, his jaw shaking as he obeys.
Grabbing the small but deadly blade, I carve the tip off his tongue. It feels like cutting through a rough bit of well done steak, blood gushing out of his mouth and down his chin.
Holding out the tiny bit of flesh, I dangle it above his open mouth.
“Last time, I promise. Swallow”
Luca wanted a message delivered. I think this will do the job. The fear is palpable in the room.
Clamping his mouth down, he swallows the end of his tongue, spluttering blood all over my jacket as he does.
“You can fucking pay for the dry cleaning on this,” I say in disgust as I throw my blood covered jacket on the damp floor.
“Now, that will be the last time you speak of Luca’s business to the Falcones. Do I make myself clear? If we so much as hear a whisper you have even stepped foot in their territory, you’ll have a bullet wedged right between your eyes.”
He frantically nods in response, his hand covering his mouth that was pouring with blood.
By the time I get home, the sun is rising over Central Park. My bloodied clothes, discarded in a bag to deal with later, I have an ice-cold shower, trying to get the image of Sienna riding my hand out of my head.
It didn’t fucking work.
The rest of the week, I train with Grayson. I have to keep my hands busy, to stop myself from contacting Sienna. God, I want her.
I want to possess her, claim her, and make her mine.
I want to protect her and care for her.
That’s what stops me from making contact.
She doesn’t need to be wrapped up in my shit. Being involved with me would be dangerous. Having a woman in this lifestyle is a weakness. One I can’t afford.
And that makes me fucking angry. Who is this woman and why does she have such a hold over me?
The memory of her pinned up against the wall by her ex stirred something deep inside me, something completely foreign. Then witnessing her smash him straight in the balls made me proud. There is definitely a fire that burns inside of her, pure perfection wrapped in a neat Goddess-like form.
I’m going cold turkey. If that’s what people use to get off drugs, surely it works for a woman you haven’t even fucked.
Which is why I spend the entire week exhausting every muscle at the Kings Gym. Every combination I nail provides a distraction from my thoughts.
Kings is mine and Grayson’s training gym. We set it up when Luca first assigned him as my trainer. He was fresh out of the Marines, and I was just plucked off the streets after Luca managed to wangle a deal to keep my ass out of jail.
Grayson’s been kicking my ass into shape ever since. He takes no shit and is the only opponent I’ve ever struggled to knock down on their ass in the ring.
We may have started off on dodgy footing when I was a foster kid fighting on the streets. Discipline wasn’t my thing. Let alone from a bloke no bigger than I was and only five years older. Now, six years later, I couldn’t be without the grumpy asshole. He and Luca are the closest thing to brothers I have.
There are only two months until my unification title fight. Already holding three belts, the WBC is the one I’ve got my sights on. Only a six foot four inch Russian machine stands in my way. He is an inch shorter and leaner than me, so he has quicker punches and is lighter on his footing for defense. I have pure power and skill. Boxing is 90% a mental fight. Once I get in the zone, there is no one that can stand in my way. I’m undefeated for a reason.
This fight holds more than the unification. It is the key to my freedom. A life away from the mafia. A chance to solely focus on boxing and live out the rest of my life without always looking over my shoulder. Grayson knows what’s at stake and fuck is he killing me for it.
Tossing my gym bag on the bench press, I head over to the office. As much as I should knock, I won’t; it’s our office, not just his. I’m going to take a punt on the fact there wouldn’t be fucking someone in there on a Monday morning, but Grayson, the ultimate playboy, doesn’t listen to society’s restraints on sex.
Barging through the door, I call out, “Knock knock mother-fucker.”
Fuck, I love winding the big guy up.
Grayson shoots me a glare taking his attention from his phone. We have those leather swivel office chairs, but neither of us can actually fit in the fucking things. Grayson is just an inch smaller than me, set with the same heavy, muscled frame. Still keeps an ashy blonde buzz cut. I guess old habits die hard from the Marines. Not that I’d know. He never fucking talks about it. I’ve tried to dig over the years, but he just shuts down and avoids the questions. I take that as he doesn’t want to talk about it. I know something happened, but it’s just passed by with us and Luca. The same as Grayson knows my ties to the Mafia. Hell, he is also friends with Luca, so it’s hardly a secret.
Maybe that’s why we’re like brothers. We understand each other’s pain, but don’t dredge it up. We don’t need to be fucking therapists, just punchbags.
“I heard you had fun with Dante over the weekend,” Grayson smirks.
“You won’t be hearing much from his mouth now,” I laugh.
“You’re a sick fuck, Kel. I heard he exploded the toilet shitting out those bullets.” Tell me something I don’t know. ‘Are you training today?” he asks.
“Why the fuck else would I be here? We have a big fight coming up in two months. Remember?” my tone mocking.
“Oh fuck off, of course, I do. You just don’t ever grace this place with your presence on a Monday. I’m sure the ladies’ boxercise class won’t mind getting an eyeful of you though,” he winks, snickering.
Now, Grayson is a complete ladies man. The lopsided grin and cheesy chat up lines make me fucking cringe when we go out. I’ve not yet actually seen him with the same woman more than once.
He will be lapping up the ladies’ attention.
I don’t flirt. I don’t chase, and I certainly don’t engage in small talk while I’m fucking. I imagine Grayson whispers sweet nothings into their ears as he fucks them. I don’t do any of that. That is until her, and I’ve barely tasted her yet.
Her being the reason I’m training on a Monday.
Monday I usually use to deal with all my other shit, like promos, club openings, and Luca’s shit. But my brain can’t concentrate on anything other than her. So instead, I go do what I do best.
Beat the shit out of people to stop myself from feeling.
Do I need a therapist? Fucking probably. But these methods have worked for me so far.
In just two months’ time, I can focus on boxing and The End Zone. No more enforcing for Luca, no more watching my back constantly.
Wrapping my hands up and getting the gloves on, I step into the ring. Over on the mats are a bunch of middle-aged moms pretending to punch the air. I forgot my gym became a fucking mom’s club in the day.
Grayson steps into the ring with pads on and a protective helmet. “You scared I’m gonna knock you out, you pussy? Take that fucking helmet off!” I shout across the ring.
“Na, I’ll keep it on. You’re in a weird ass mood today and I don’t want any shiners on this pretty face,” he goads.
Jogging up to the center of the ring, I start my first combination of jabs on the pads. Left right left, ducking as Grayson swings the pad at me. We keep going and going until my lungs burn, sweat is dripping over my eyes and my vest is drenched.
Once I get in the zone the whole world is silent. It’s perfect.
My mind goes blank and the only thing I see is my opponent, a dangerous headspace to be in.
The power in my punch can kill. If my mind switches off, there is nothing to stop the devil that dances in my veins.
Catching my breath, the room is deadly silent. I look over to the moms’ class and all of them are staring at me open-mouthed, avoiding my gaze. They are petrified. I can smell their fear from here.
Grayson’s voice echoes in the background.
“Keller! Keller, snap the fuck out of it, now!” he bellows next to me.
Fuck.
Ripping off my shirt that’s clinging to the sweat, I use it to dab my forehead, trying to steady my breath. Without acknowledging Grayson, I duck under the ropes and storm to the showers.
If he’s shouting at me, I clearly didn’t kill him. Shit. I could have.
After a cold shower and getting dressed, I hunt down Grayson, who’s now throwing his own punches on a bag. I must have pissed him right off.
‘Grays!” I shout, getting his attention.
Pushing the bag away, he stalks over to me.
“What in the fuck was that up there, Keller” he demands, pointing to the ring. “You completely clocked out. It’s fucking dangerous. You have to get your head in the game, otherwise, you’ll fucking kill someone,” he spits, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “Go home, sort your head out. Christ, go get fucking laid. Now is not the time to lose it, Keller. A boxer is nothing without a strong mind. Remember that.” Turning his back to me, he starts hurling punches into the bag. One guess he’s imagining I’m that fucking bag.
The rest of the week I immerse myself in training, avoiding Grayson for a couple of days for us to cool off.
Whenever my mind isn’t focused on training, it wanders to Sienna. I wonder if she’s thought about me. Has she thought about texting me? Is she dreaming of fucking me like I do every night of her?
It’s not healthy, it’s almost becoming obsessive.
I found her Instagram. I couldn’t help myself. I thought if I just saw her, that would sedate the need, but it didn’t. I just ended up beating one out with images of her posing on her feed flashing through my head.
I need to get this woman out of my system before it’s too late.
