Page 28 of Deadly Little Sparrow

XAVIARO

It’s been two days since Sparrow chased me through the woods and made me see a god I don’t even believe in. Two days and my protective blanket of numbness still hasn’t returned. My skin tingles with too much awareness, sensitive to the soft slide of the silky, expensive material of my suit against it. The click of my shoes against the pavement echoes loudly in my ears as I make my way down the street towards the last abandoned building on the block. Well… condemned, not actually abandoned.

The smell of piss and garbage is heavy in the air, making me wrinkle my nose as I stop in front of the house, pulling out my phone to double check that I’ve got the right place. Not that it’s any guarantee that this guy hasn’t found a new place to shoot the mob’s money into his veins by now, but it’s a place to start, anyway. Should be an easy job. This is only his first warning, which means the worst I should have to do is break a finger or two.

I put my phone back into my pocket and reach inside my jacket to touch the smooth handle of my gun. I don’t expect I’ll have to put a bullet in this guy’s head, but the first rule of being a Mafia hitman is the same as the first tenet of the Boy Scouts. Always be prepared.

The cuff of my shirt tugs at the chafed, bruised skin where the bungee cord dug in and left its mark the other night. I ghost my fingers over the tender spot, dragging in a shuddering breath as heat climbs up my spine and wraps itself around my cock. It’s not the only souvenir Sparrow left me with, either. My throat didn’t bruise visibly, but every time I swallow, I can still feel the way he tightened my tie until it cut off my breath.

I close my eyes for a moment, gathering myself before taking the cracked, crumbling steps one at a time up to the door of the house. I don’t bother to knock on the door. There’s no handle or lock, just a hole where both used to be. The door is held closed by something on the other side, but whatever it is, it’s not heavy enough to hold up to the small amount of pressure I apply with my shoulder. The door swings open and the broken chair that was holding it closed scrapes against the floor as I push it out of the way.

My thoughts dance between work and Sparrow as I move through the reeking, dilapidated house. There are empty liquor bottles and used needles littering the floor, a few bare, stained mattresses pushed up against one wall or another, and absolutely no sign of anyone currently in the house. Maybe Paul Spanner decided to relocate after all. Not that it will help. He borrowed half a million dollars from the Morettis, then proceeded to gamble half of it away and shoot up the rest. I don’t give a fuck what he blew the money on, all I care about is that it’s my job to get it back, along with the interest rate he agreed to. Everything else is between him and whatever god he believes in. But for that amount of cash, a change of address isn’t going to get me off his ass.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and a grin jumps immediately to my lips. I reach for it without thinking beyond the oversimplified thought that it might be Sparrow. Sure enough, it’s his name that lights up my screen when I pull it out of my pocket. I accept the call and bring the phone to my ear.

“Hello, Little Sparrow.”

“Hey, Killer,” he says on the other end, his voice making my heart go wild against my ribcage. “I just wanted to see… um, are you thinking of coming by tonight?” He sounds nervous, which unsettles me immediately, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Is everything okay?”

A warm, throaty chuckle vibrates in my ear. “Everything’s fine. I was just—”

The distinct click of a gun being cocked behind me has the rest of Sparrow’s words fading in my ear. Everything warm inside me turns ice cold and my pulse slows to a crawl. I was wrong. Paul Spanner is here, I was just too distracted to do a proper search.

“Let me call you back,” I say coolly, ending the call and letting go of my phone.

It falls through the air towards the littered floor. My movements are fluid and quick, muscle memory and survival instinct removing every ounce of hesitation. I spin to face the gunman, catching him by the wrist before he even realizes I’ve moved. The satisfying snap of his bone reverberates in my ears at the same moment that both my phone and his gun clatter to the floor.

So much for only needing to break a few fingers. Pull a gun on a mobster and you’ve signed your own death warrant. Sorry, Paul. Better luck in the next life.

Between one breath and the next, I have my own gun out and pressed between his eyes. He doesn’t have time to even suck in a breath to start begging for his life before the graffiti on the wall behind him has a fresh coat of blood and brain matter all over it.

He collapses to the floor with a thud, and I tuck my gun away. I take a step back from the body, nudging his gun away with my foot and using both hands to smooth out my suit. The numbness that’s been uncomfortably absent recently settles into my bones like an old friend. Except, as soon as I spot my phone out of the corner of my eye, it releases its hold on me again. Not gone this time, but dormant, hovering just around the edges of the warmth that the mere thought of Sparrow ignites inside of me.

Instead of calling him back right away though, I hit the speed dial that connects me directly to Lorenzo Moretti.

“Xaviaro,” his velvet voice says my name in lieu of a traditional greeting.

I’m back on schedule with collections, but there’s a part of me still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s no way Enzo doesn’t know that I brought Sparrow with me on my rounds the other day. If I were a more optimistic man, I might think he just doesn’t give a fuck. But that kind of outlook is more suited to a life of puppies and unicorns than the blood and bruises I’m used to. There isn’t shit I can do about it one way or the other until Enzo brings it up, so I push the nagging feeling aside for now.

“Hey, boss. I wanted to let you know that I had to drop Spanner. I know it’s a lot of money to write off, but he pulled a gun on me.”

If the debt was less or if I hadn’t been so distracted on the job lately, I might not have bothered running straight to Enzo to let him know how things went down with Paul tonight, but things feel so off between the two of us that I’m still trying to figure out which way is up.

He’s quiet for several moments before he responds. “Get a couple of his fingers, we’ll mail them to his rich parents and see if we can recoup any of what he owes us.”

“Will do,” I answer, already heading back out to get the supplies I’ll need out of my car.

“Thank you. And Xav, I’m glad you got him before he got you.”

An amused sound puffs past my lips. “As if there was any other outcome possible,” I bluster, even though I know he’s too damn right. I can’t let myself keep being distracted and emotional on the job like this. I need to find balance and learn to compartmentalize if I’m going to stay alive.

“Never,” he agrees with matching humor in his tone.

Neither of us bother with goodbyes. He ends the call and when I hear dead air on the other end, I do the same. I shoot Sparrow a quick text telling him that I’ve gotta deal with some messy shit but that I’ll call him in a bit, and then I get to work. After all, dead bodies rarely dismember themselves.

SPARROW

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