to the office. I just can’t right now, Genna.”
“You always were a fucking coward!”
A good man doesn’t need to remind himself not to hit a woman. Another reason I’m not a good man.
“And you’re nothing but a money-grubbing slut. Let’s see how fast those tears dry up when you hear he left every last cent to me.”
If I was capable of laughing, now would’ve been the perfect time. The sound she makes is a cross between a cheap slut choking on a cock and a pig rooting around for food. Any doubt I had that she wasn’t only into my pop for his money is lost.
“Sit down. Wait for Richard. Or don’t. I don’t give a fuck. I need you out of my fuckin’ sight.”
Carrying a bottle of scotch, sans shot glass, I leave Genna sitting with her crocodile tears and trudge to the private office upstairs.
The room still smells like him. Of course it does because he’s been dead barely three hours. Just this morning, my old man sat in the rolling chair behind his massive wooden desk—a chair I can’t convince myself to sit in even now that he’s gone—to go over the blueprints for the mission. It was supposed to be simple. Pose as buyers while gathering information. Any names, descriptions, locations would have brought us one step further than where we’ve been for the past couple of months. I should have known that securing the meeting was too damn easy. Something was off, and it was up to me to notice.
But I failed. Like I always fail.
It could have been Elias. I could have taken my best friend to his death today. It could have been his brains splattered all over my fucking tee. The guy didn’t bat an eye at helping me track down the men who took Molly. I should have been paying more attention. It’s only a matter of time until I lead Elias to his demise.
My legs carry me as far as the old wooden chair in the corner before I collapse. I perch the bottle of scotch on my knee, taking swig after swig as I think back on today.
We went in pairs. Pop and Richard played the part of two older men looking for a new young submissive to purchase. They wanted someone they could take home and break in. Elias and I were pretending to be interested in the prostitution side of things. We didn’t want to buy a girl; we just wanted to play a little and come back next week. That was the story, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong. The only thing that makes sense is they already knew. They knew who we were and when we were coming.
The older men arrived first, but only by a couple of minutes. That was all it took.
The bottle of scotch dangles from my fingertips between my knees. My back bows forward as agony sweeps through me. We had barely walked in the door, so something was wrong by the time we got there.
Voices raised. The sound of bodies shuffling. It happened so fast, but when I think back on it, it really wasn’t. It was slow. Calculated. Executed with precision.
I didn’t see it then, but now that I’m looking at it through pain and inebriation, I can see it. Why didn’t the man shoot Richard? Elias? Did he miss me on purpose?
It was a setup. It had to be.
My pulse beats at a dizzying pace as the memory assaults me. The images of him lying there explode in my mind, and I know I have to stop. I have to stop thinking. I can’t keep reliving that moment over and over. It’s going to drive me to insanity.
I’ll drink myself there instead.
A bottle of liquor, a quiet room, and a chair. That’s how I deal. That’s how I always deal.
***
The door thuds against the wall with an almighty bang, and Elias’s voice booms across the room. “Man, Sin. What can I do?” he asks, and if I weren’t already six sheets to the wind, I would swear his voice cracks.
A creak releases from the old wooden chair I’m sitting in as I gently rock it with my heels on the floor. “Not a goddamn thing.”
Christ, was that my voice? After I left Genna by the bar, I took my bottle of scotch to the office for some peace and quiet. Some mind-numbing silence.
If someone could mute the damn ghosts in my