Page 25 of Dangerous Games

“Who the fuck are you?” he demands as he tucks his phone into his pocket, not taking his eyes off me.

I push off the wall, uncrossing my arms and placing my hands in my pockets. The weight of my gun in its holster making itself known. “I don’t think you’re the one in the position to be asking questions.”

“I think I am considering you’re the one who is all up in my shit.” He takes a step toward me, his shoulders squaring up in defense.

“I’m all up in your shit because my family owns the building you’re hiding at like a fucking creep.”

If I wasn’t looking right at him, I would have missed the way his eyes widened ever so slightly before schooling his expression. “I’m not messing up your property or bothering anyone. I’m just waiting for my girl to get home. She forgot to give me a key.”

“Your girl?” I ask, keeping my face even when inside I want to blow his fucking face off. The thought of Bronwyn with another man is enough for me to lose it.

“Yeah,” he cockily answers, standing his ground.

“What’s her name?”

“What’s it to you?” he asks defensively.

There it is.

I finally hit a nerve.

“I want to make sure you’re not hanging around my building bothering my tenants for shits and giggles. It’s not good for business.”

His nostrils flare. “Her name is Bronwyn.”

So he knows her name.

“And you think it’s acceptable to wait for your girl under the stairs like some sick fuck who’s waiting to jump out of the shadows and assault her?”

His face hardens as he takes another step toward me. “It’s a little game we play that’s none of your fucking business.” His hand reaches under his coat.

“Wrong answer,” I tell him as I pull out my gun, beating him to the punch and fire four rounds into his chest before he can blink. Fucker thinks he can be the one to kill me? Hilarious.

I watch in delight as he collapses to the ground, his lifeless body lying limp in the alley. Blood is pooling on the pavement and trailing straight for the stairs leading up to Bronwyn’s apartment.

A calmness washes over me; the rage I was feeling is gone. There’s always been something peaceful about getting a kill. One more piece of shit is off the streets, and that’s all I can ask for.

“Shit.” Matteo is going to have my ass for this one. Another kill not ordered. He usually only lets two a year slide. This will be my fourth.

I need to get this cleaned up before Bronwyn comes home. It would be just my luck to have her or someone from my family interrupt me.

I remove his gun he tried to reach for, emptying the chamber and tucking it in my back pocket before searching him for a wallet or any sort of identification that could tell me who this guy is. A black leather wallet is in his back pocket. Flipping it open, I pull out his ID. Brian Hatchett. That name doesn’t ring any bells.

Looking around, I try to think of where I can hide him until the pizzeria closes for the day. The large dumpster will have to do for now. I holster my gun before grabbing him by the ankles as I begin to drag him over.

I grunt. Jesus, this guy is heavier than he looks.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

I freeze as my eyes close, tipping my head up toward the sky and releasing a sigh. My hands tighten around his ankles, my fingers digging into his dead flesh.

You have got to be kidding me.

I’m going to be the next hit Matteo orders.

“First a hand and now a dead body?” Bronwyn asks. I can’t tell from her tone if she’s on the verge of losing it or not. It’s eerily calm for someone who walked into the scene of a crime.

I release his ankles, letting his legs drop to the pavement as I turn around to face Bronwyn. I run through a million scenarios of what I could tell her had happened. Something, anything to save face with the woman I can’t get out of my fucking head, but nothing seems good enough. Not when she’s looking at me like she isn’t fazed.