Page 105 of Ruthless Beasts

My steps were gentle, quiet against the sticky tile floor. Inside, dust coated every surface, making the air nearly impossible to breathe without coughing. I held my breath as much as I could, trying not to give myself away. Touch nothing was always a rule, but in a place like this, where a single swipe of dust would be noticeable, I kept my limbs tucked close to my body, not willing to brush up against anything that could leave my mark.

"I've been expecting you." The voice was scratchy with age. I froze mid-step, straining my ears to listen to Rocco Accardo. "It was only a matter of time before my brother's dealings showed up to pay me a visit."

"Then you know we didn't want to take it this far."

Mercer.

I swallowed hard as I crept forward toward my best friend's voice.

"I can't go easily, boy. You must understand that. I'm old, but I've enjoyed this life too well to just give up now."

Click.

My stomach sank at the distinctive echo of a revolver being set. This was supposed to be easy. Get in, take a life, leave. But as I stepped closer, I knew for a fact that wasn't the case. Not while the old man's shaky hand held a gun pointed right at Mercer.

My heart raced; my blood rushed to my ears, making it hard to hear the conversation they were having. I strained, trying to listen to the mumbled words. I needed to get closer, needed to get to the old man before he harmed something, someone, of importance to me.

"Who is going to put their weapons down first?" Mercer asked the man.

"You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that shit, son?" This guy had to be a smoker. It was the only explanation for the roughness of his voice. "I've been alive a long fucking time, longer than you were a seed in your father's ball sack. I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of death. It will come for me, eventually. Might as well take something with me along the way."

I just hoped that something he took with him wasn't my best friend.

I took another step, then two more before Mercer talked. "Your brother, he took something important to me."

"It's the life," Rocco pondered.

"She was family. My best friend's wife. And their child," Mercer offered, even though the man didn't ask.

"Women and children. I guess in my brother's old age, even he forgets the rules." Rocco laughed. "Stupid bastard."

Mercer swallowed, trying not to look at me. "But I took something of his, too."

Keep talking, Mercer. Keep fucking talking.

Another step, each one bringing me closer to sneaking up on this old bastard. I wasn't prepared for this turmoil that would roll through me, seeing Mercer in danger. Yet, as he stood there talking, he hardly looked phased at his near death. His hands were steady, his breathing normal. His grip was loose on the gun he held.

The man leaned forward. "You the bastard who took my nephew?"

"Nope." Mercer smirked.

"What do you have?"

"Something better than your nephew," Mercer confirmed.

"He was a good kid."

If it was me, I'd let him believe that lie he'd been fed. But Mercer, he didn't care to spare the old man his feelings in his last minutes of life. Instead, he shook his head. "He wasn't."

"His father, he had influenced him is all, he'd forced?—"

"His father didn't force him to rape my girl," Mercer cut him off.

"Rape?" I only saw the back of Rocco's head, but I knew his brows were pulled together in confusion. "My nephew would never do such a thing."

Mercer laughed, the coldness driving into my bones. "He would, and he did. And now... I've got your brother's granddaughter."

"A girl," Rocco whispered. "Joseph always wanted a girl."

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