Page 53 of Reckless

Fuck I couldn't remember the last time I had been that scared after my guys told me they lost her. The way panic shot through me, rendering me immobile.

Speaking of which how the fuck could they have lost her?

They were my guys. The best in the city. And yet someone had gotten the jump on them outside of Rose’s mom's hospital room. It shouldn't have even been possible.

And yet it was.

It had happened.

And to say I was furious would be the understatement of the fucking century. I wanted heads on platters. I wanted hearts ripped out of chests. I wanted the city to rain blood for fucks sake. To think that they could have touched her, that they could have had her-

My head spins and I need to calm down before I lose all composure. My mental sanity was already hanging by a thread as it is, and now was not the time to cut it.

All I needed to know was who.

They had to be someone with power. And the fact that I didn't immediately know who we were dealing with was enough to set me on edge. After all, I wasn't a newbie to this business. Some might call me fresh blood in the world of crime (pricks the lot of them) but I wasn't a virgin when it came to bloodshed and I knew how to get what I wanted. I grew up in the shadows of this world and the shadows had left me forever stained with their darkness.

I could blend into any dark cave and come out a beacon of broken light. It was a secret this city would do best to keep. And I had more criminal empires in my pockets than most of these oldies would ever dare to admit. Wouldn’t want them to sting their precious fucking pride.

And still, no names came to mind that would be entangled with Blondie's mom. It was maddening not knowing but I was determined to find out. Goldie Locks was under my protection now and protecting her meant protecting my journal. After all, that was what this was really all about, the journal. It had absolutely nothing to do with how my heart felt like it was blown up like a bomb the second my eyes devoured hers.

Not a single fucking thing.

I take a drag from the blunt dangling from my fingers and revel in the way the world blurs with each inhale and exhale I take. Jayson could be a pain in the ass ninety-nine percent of the time but he always did come in clutch with the Mary Jane. And I would certainly be needing it if I wanted to get through tonight.

After all, it was Friday.

And Fridays meant fight night at the Black Mansion.

I rolled my eyes.

I hated fucking fight night. It was over-dramatic and pretentious for my tastes. The way my men fought for scraps of attention and affection from a crowd that couldn't give two shits about their well-being. But this was a business and in a business, there was only one thing people cared about:

Money.

And being the businessman I am, I cared more about money than the blood currently clogging my nostrils, making me gag. It's no lie this room was a pigsty. This whole night was a waste of my time. You weren't fighting for anything or against anything. It was like dancing in circles with your own inner demons. At the end of the night they still went home and stared in your nightmares.

But like I said, the money was good. So against my personal opinion (got one of those and an asshole to go along with it) I suck it up and watch my men beat one another to unconsciousness.

Fucking highlight of my week.

I think briefly to when Blondie and I were sprawled out on her couch, her stupid vampire tv show on in the background, the heat of her leg pressed against mine. Fucking hell my mind really liked to run me over tonight. I was tired of thinking of her and yet couldn't seem to stop. It was pure madness that's what it was and I was afraid I could never be cured.

Wanting to distract myself, my eyes flash briefly to the fight lineup written in chalk against the wall. There were at least five more fights tonight. Maybe more depending on if the mood turned bloodthirsty. Sometimes the gamblers got greedy too and demanded a rematch between two fighters. On those nights I lied and pretended they were interesting. That I truly cared about the fight's outcomes.

I've gotten pretty good at lying to myself these days.

A hand slaps me on the back and I turn around to see Jayson lingering behind me, the smell of marijuana clouding the air. Might as well bottle it and label it as the boys cologne. He certainly never stopped wreaking of the shit.

“So did you bet on our boy?” Jayson asks while puffing a ring of smoke into the air. I knew he was referring to Tristan before he even finished asking the question. Tristan was addicted to fighting. Just like Jayson was addicted to MJ and I was addicted to revenge.

“Yeah,” I mumble around the blunt in my mouth. Of course I had bet on Tristan. Not because he was my boy, but because he was a beast. He had the best odds of winning and if I had to suffer through this suffocating night then you bet I would be getting money out of it.

Jayson blows smoke in my face, and for some reason, a therapist would probably smack me on the head for thinking, I find myself wanting to be anywhere but here. Scratch that I find myself wanting to be in Blondie's crap Chinese-food-smelling apartment with her leg touching mine.

See told you - clinically insane.

Shifting my weight on the black lawn chair I sat upon like some duct tape-covered throne, I focused my attention on the ring. The fight taking place was mildly interesting. It was between one of my newer recruits, a youngbie named Reed who could pick pockets like nobody's business. He came quite in handy when I needed to lift a few things off some dirty hands but couldn't risk getting too close myself.

---