Page 20 of The Ripper

“Try to stand again and I’ll break your legs,” I threatened. “Who else knows about your relationship?”

“Nobody, man,” he spat more blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “I didn’t fuck her. That bitch is frigid,” he added, as if that was going to improve his situation.

“Doesn’t matter, man,” I mocked what he’d been calling me since he’d made the mistake of opening the front door, “You see, Mr. Fowler, I’m not her boyfriend, I’m the man who’s been following her for the last six years, and the way you grabbed her arm earlier tonight just didn’t sit well with me.”

~ Can’t we just kill him already? He’s boring me.

I smacked the side of my head and closed my eyes for a second.

“Fuck,” realization crossed his features when I looked at him again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panicked. “You’re a fucking stalker!”

I grinned in response.

“Much worse than that, Mr. Fowler,” I said as I took out my knife and pressed it against his neck, my breath brushing furiously across his face, “I’m the Ripper.”

I moved the blade down his neck, reveling in the feel of his blood gushing out of the long cut, then I pushed the knife in his chest.

Once.

Right through his rotten heart.

I grabbed his chin and held it up, watching with morbid fascination as life drained from his eyes. He coughed once, the blood splattering onto my shirt.

My muscles relaxed as his body fell limply to the floor, and I let out a pleasured groan.

I rolled down my sleeves, pulled out the knife and wiped it on his jeans, then put it back in its holster.

Calmly, I went to the kitchen and washed my hands, then put on my jacket and called my cleaner, all the while humming a Russian lullaby.

“Santa’s Laundromat, how may I brighten your existence today?” Klaus picked up with his usual greeting, and I almost laughed.

Almost.

“I’d like to order a laundry pickup,” I answered, then gave him the address.

He hung up, and I lit a cigarette as I looked at her photo again. A drop of blood had sprayed onto the screen, right over her chest, and I quickly wiped it off. His blood had no business staining her, even through a screen, then admired her beauty as I chain-smoked and waited for the guys to show up.

I lost track of time as I stared at her, carefully analyzing her every feature for the millionth time, and only woke up from the trance when I heard three consecutive knocks on the door.

I opened for them, and three men nodded their heads in my direction, then entered the house without a word and got straight to work. Klaus followed them, dressed in red leather pants and a black ripped tank top with “I love ho-ho-hoes” written on it.

He looked around for a second, grinned as he scrutinized my suit, then popped a cigarette in his mouth.

“Is this one related to your lady friend as well, Ripper?”

I nodded, disgust falling over me again as I looked at the guy who was being wrapped up in plastic.

“One of these days, you have to introduce me. You’re up fifteen personal clean-ups since she came into your life,” he laughed.

“I’ll die before I introduce her to your crazy ass,” I shook my head as we walked out of the house.

“Fair enough. How’s papa doing?” my little brother asked.

Klaus was born five years after me, and our father actually loved and married his mother, but she unfortunately died when my brother was ten.

~ Women die in the mafia. What a shocker!

Since then, Klaus had been a handful, a difficult to control chaos, rebellious, always getting in trouble and wreaking havoc.

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