Page 1 of King of Violence

JULIAN

“Get on your knees, Valdez,” I say.

The man kneels against the cold warehouse floor. His eyes look up at me expectantly, causing a thrill to rush up my spine.

He’s cute,I think.

I tilt my head, taking in the slight stubble on his chin that gives the illusion of a sculpted jawline. I see fear welling in those dull brown eyes of his. He’s no Sexiest Man Alive, but I could be tempted.

I lean down so my eyes are level with his. “Now be a good boy and open your mouth.”

Valdez shudders, his lips parting wide, saliva slipping from his wet tongue.

I shove my gun into his mouth, causing him to gag against the cool metal.

Lewis, my bodyguard, shifts on his feet. “Mr. Greco…”

I ignore his warning tone. “Valdez, if you don’t have my fucking money by…” I look at my watch. “…precisely 2:03 next Wednesday, I’m gonna make sure one of my bullets rips through this handsome head of yours.” I smile, shoving the gun farther down his throat. “Sound good?”

Tears stream down his face as he barely nods.

“Great!” I yank my gun out of his mouth and use his shirt to wipe the drool from the weapon. “Can you finish this up, Lewis? I’ve got practice.”

“Yes, sir.”

???

“Julian, where the hell have you been?” Cole Andrews slams his gym locker shut, his brown hair a mess from hastily pulling on his practice jersey.

I yank off my street clothes and toss them into my locker, trying to find my gear. “Just some family stuff.”

Cole nods.

I assume he thinks I mean visiting a sick grandma, not shaking down a guy in a blood-spattered warehouse.

“I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re late. Youarecoach’s golden boy.” Cole’s eyes glance down at my exposed torso, where my tanned skin is taut over my six-pack abs.

“My eyes are up here, Andrews,” I tease.

Cole’s eyes snap to my face, his cheeks tinted pink.

Not that I can blame him. My trainer has been making me pack on the pounds to gain more muscle.

I scoff, pulling on my undershirt. “I’ll have to tell Alexa you’re enjoying her work. At least someone is.”

Cole turns and grabs his water bottle from the bench. “What, you’re not seeing What’s-his-name anymore?”

“Who? Martin or Patrick?”

Cole rolls his eyes and closes his locker. “You’re such a whore.”

I don’t disagree. In my line of work, I can’t get too close to anyone. It’s too dangerous. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get my rocks off when I can.

“What? Jealous?” I grab my jersey and follow Cole to the field.

“Of your many STDs? Not likely.”

I glance around at the championship flags hanging in the hallway that leads to the field. I see an old athlete poster of me with my foot on my helmet.

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