Page 3 of Layne Closure Ahead

Spinning around she pulled out the small but mighty Glock, pulling the trigger for the money shot between the eyes. The bang filled the air and everything went still. Her victim dropped to the floor with a thud, and his hand released her bat.

Four, motherfucker, let’s go.

The pistol was tucked back into the holster in the back of her pants.

The wooden weapon rolled slowly across the floor towards her until she stopped it with the tip of her boot. She reached down and picked it up, only to hear a pair of hands giving slow and deliberate claps.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Looking over her shoulder to see who was finding entertainment in the violent scene that had just unfolded, she was surprised to find a man who was clean-cut from head to toe. He had jet-black hair on the longer side but kept into a neat style away from his face. He had chillingly blue eyes that could either melt you down to your core or pierce straight through your heart. He stood at barely six feet tall, and his presence had an elegant command to it. If one had to guess, he appeared to be just over the cusp of forty.

The attire he had on indicated he had money—lots of it. The suit appeared to be custom and tailored to each cut of his sleek musculature.

She completed her turn to face him, noticing he was standing only three feet away. This stranger may have been amused, but she wasn’t finding the situation nearly as captivating. “Enjoy the show?” Her voice was not the least bit friendly.

Ignoring her question, the man snapped his fingers. The first two men she encountered, Alan, and any pieces of arm candy that hadn’t already fled for the exit, all nodded in acknowledgment of the silent instruction they were given. They scurried from the confines of the Brass Mirror.

Finally, the stranger spoke with a silky but firm tone. “Diego, you are also dismissed. See my man outside for your payment for your inconveniences here.”

Diego shamefully avoided eye contact with Layne as he rushed out of the room. She gritted her teeth angrily that he had been manipulated by another party at play here.

“Don’t blame him, I made an offer he couldn’t—” the man chuckled. “Well, you know the saying.”

Warily, she shifted her eyes onto the man, her hand still firmly latched onto the handle of the baseball bat.

“Forgive me, and allow me to introduce myself. I’m Eric Ellis. Your new neighbor, if you will.” He extended his hand out to her.

The name sounded vaguely familiar to her which should have been an enormous red flag, but new players were always coming and going in this line of work. Sometimes they proved themselves worthy enough to be a force to be reckoned with. Other times? They tightened their own noose and jumped from the platform.

While there wasn’t some sort of monthly criminal newsletter that got distributed, Layne had heard about the new guy in town. He had snatched up a swanky corner lot and fully renovated the industrial building to convert it into a residence. It was the Upper East Side’s biggest topic of conversation amongst the wealthy. What she hadn’t heard was what else he had his hands in.

Layne shoved his extended hand away with the tip of her bat. “I’m not your welcoming committee.”

The strength of his hand grasped onto the bat and roughly tugged her forward towards him. When he snaked an arm around her, his hold was like a boa constrictor, ready to squeeze the life out of her lungs.

“Now, that’s not being very friendly, is it?” He smirked as he let his eyes wander over the features of her face.

Not showing any signs of distress, she stared into the handsome face of her self-proclaimed new neighbor. “I’m not a very friendly type of girl.”

He grinned, bringing his mouth lower to her ear so he could whisper his words. “So I’ve heard.”

Before she could snap back, he released her and stepped away to give her space. Eric walked behind the unattended bar and lifted a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, inspecting it. “I’m not here to start any wars. Instead, I figured I’d get creative in capturing your attention. How did I do?”

Still not willing to part with her bat, she watched his every move wondering what game he was playing. “If you were looking to piss me off, you’re off to a great start.”

He chuckled quietly to himself as he poured himself a drink from the expensive whiskey, he nodded at an empty chair on the other side of the bar. “Please, take a seat. I won’t bite.” He paused and with a debonaire smile, said, “Unless you ask very nicely.”

“I prefer to stand.” Stepping over a broken chair she approached the bar, still on high alert.

“Suit yourself.” When he took the first sip from the glass, he reveled in the taste dancing across his taste buds finishing with a slow moan of delight.

Using the bat, she laid it across the wrist of his hand holding the glass, preventing him from taking another sip. “What is it that you’re here for?”

Not making an effort to remove the baseball bat lying across his wrist, he chose to focus all of his attention on her. “A business proposition.”

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