Page 5 of Bloody Savage God
“Let’s go,” I tell Eric, who is waiting patiently for me to finish. Of course, he gets to do this kind of thing with a lot more frequency than me. Lucky bastard.
It’s not that I don’t love my job running the real estate business for the family. In fact, I excel at it. Especially at the illegal schemes hidden behind the professional façade. But this is a different sort of rush. Taking a man down is always satisfying, but spilling blood has a more visceral effect than draining someone’s portfolio. There is power in both, but besting a guy physically makes my body hum with satisfaction.
It’s definitely time I carve out a few hours to head to Club Steel. Clearly, I’ve been abstaining from my coping mechanism for too long. It’s the one thing I can do to keep my need for violence contained enough to work in an office.
Moving back to my vehicle the same way I used earlier, I ensure the other parked cars cover me from being seen. Before I slide onto the driver’s seat, I quickly strip out of my tights and shirt. No need to ruin my leather seats with blood splatters.
Eric still has his hoodie pulled deep to cover his face when he sinks into the passenger seat moments later. He looks over at me and barks a laugh. “The fuck? That’s more than I needed to see.”
I shrug and pull on the light summer dress I had stashed in the back seat. Putting the car in reverse, I back out of the parking lot, wondering for a second if Ronaldo Junior managed to put in an emergency call before passing out from blood loss.
As I leave the lot, I keep an eye on my mirrors. Not that it would matter if boy scout makes out my license plate–it’s fake and the color of my car is the most popular one for the make and model in the greater Toronto area–, but my need for control drives me to ensure I don’t miss anything.
Turns out, it’s a good thing, because a man gets out of a black BMW and stares straight at me. And I know exactly who he is.
Mikhail
Country clubs are about the last place on earth I want to spend any significant amount of time. But a job is a job, so here I am, sitting in my comfortable car and listening to music. I carefully watch the cars coming and going from the lot while the dumb fuck I’m supposed to babysit tonight is taking his sweet time getting his ass out here.
Not that his daddy told him he’s getting an escort.Nope.I get the honor of creeping on the fucker, and while I’m not opposed to stalking per se, I prefer the object of that effort to be someone with a pussy. Preferably someone pretty and with high standards.
Someone like Gianna.
Except that no one before her even came close to the hold she has over me. Which is why I’m even less amused by this job. This shit promises a boring afternoon, and I hate boring. But I know when I need to follow orders.
My eyes scan every movement in the parking lot, more out of habit than because I believe there is any actual threat lurking. While Ronaldo has asked us to watch over his useless son after he heard through the grapevine that Junior pissed off the wrong people, I’m not convinced anyone would bother wasting time on this guy.
Except then a black Cadillac rolls onto the parking lot and pulls into a slot, with no one emerging. Probably someone on their cell, finishing up a call, but something nudges me to keep watching the vehicle. Boredom probably.
Instinct, maybe.
Taking a gulp of my sports drink, I spit some of it over the steering wheel when the doors of the TX5 finally open and out steps none other than GiannafuckingBruno.
If this is a coincidence, I’ll pour acid over my own cock.
As it stands, that particular body part of mine is already waking up at the sight of the woman it’s been craving for weeks. Every single day since seeing her at Club Steel, my cock has made a habit of demanding additional attention. Courtesy of the wet dreams Gianna Bruno inspires.
And yet, I haven’t seen her back in the club once. Much to my frustration, since I haven’t found a way to follow her elsewhere without the whole damn Italian mafia being all over my ass.
I freeze in place, making sure I don’t twitch so much as a muscle. The last thing I want is for her and the guy with her to spot me now. Every fiber in me wants to watch exactly what she is up to, but she’s already stepped behind the vehicles, ensuring she’s hidden from sight. The guy that exited the car with her is making himself scarce as well, so I check my mirror and sure enough, Benny Ronaldo has finally decided to make an appearance.
Which leaves me in a pickle.
Pissing off Ronaldo senior isn’t a good idea. Nor would my father be pleased if we missed out on the rather substantial paycheck we’re getting for this babysitting gig. On the other hand, I can feel my dick stiffening at the thought of Gianna getting her hands dirty.
It doesn’t take me long to make the decision.
It wasn’t really a decision in the first place.
Ineedthis to play out. Need to see what she’ll do.
Need to know how far my girl is willing to go.
With Gianna’s watchdog in play, I can’t get out without being noticed, so I resign myself to waiting in my car. It’s good that the whole thing doesn’t take longer than five minutes, then Gianna shows up next to her car again.
I about choke when she strips out of her clothes, leaving her standing there in nothing more than a black thong and a bra, before she slides into the driver’s seat. Fuck. This has got to be the heavenly reward I get for my patience. My cock certainly thinks so.
As she pulls out of her parking spot, I leisurely get out of my car and lock it. I’m going to have to get Ronaldo junior to the hospital, assuming he’s still alive, but I’ll be damned if I use my car to transport him. If anything I’ve heard about Gianna Bruno is accurate, and I’ve been doing my homework in the past weeks, then she will have left me a bloody mess to deal with.
