Page 1 of Shame

CHAPTER ONE

Lucas

I keep the engine running. When they come back out, we might need to be out of here within a second.

The Salvatore hit squad. The most feared men on the West Coast.

I don’t really know them. Only by name and looks. Christian, tall, dark, a proud Roman nose, messy hair, and absolutely terrifying. I never start a conversation with him. Ever. I don’t fucking want him to even notice me. Eric, also tall, but with a more refined look, blond like me. He seems civilized, but his looks don’t match his wicked mind. Ray, as broad as he’s short, missing a front tooth, with a large scar across his face. He’s always grinning at me, as if we share a secret. Which we don’t. I think he’s just out to unsettle me, the rookie. After two years, I’m still nothing to them. I’m air. And last, but not least, Sean, a giant, oozing threat, a nose broken too many times to count, used to be a boxer, all muscle. Could be good looking, but he has a permanent scowl on his face, as if someone’s wronged him.

They all know I wanna come with. I don’t wanna be the driver forever. I can shoot. I work out, hard. I practice Krav Maga, have done so since I was fourteen, at a seedy dojo in a suburb, because I want to be ready the day they ask me, the day some other poor fucker gets driver duty.

The casino owner has a gambling debt himself. He’s as stupid as they come. What the fuck are you thinking when you gamble at all? It’s beyond me. Few win anything, many end up by Salvatore’s feet, weeping, begging for their lives. Some strike a deal and live to see another day, some disappear. I have no idea what fate awaits this particular person.

The back door of the building flies open and the four men exit, one after another, laughing, joking. Sean lights up a cigarette, and so does Christian. No one seems to be in a hurry, or worried about being seen.

I jerk as Ray slams his fist on the roof of the car. “Lucas, you little twat. Getting bored in there?”

Rolling down the window, I stick out my head. “Went well then?”

“We should have let you in on the fun, let you break some bones. He won’t be walking anytime soon.”

“Yeah, when’ll you all let me?”

Ray looks at Christian. “Whaddaya say, oldest son of Russo. You’ve killed since you were in your teens, you think this young man is dry behind his ears enough yet?”

Christian Russo drops his cig on the sidewalk, crushes it under the sole of his shoe, taking his time, before he fixates his black eyes on me. “I think he’ll puke at the first sight of blood.”

“How old are you, son?” asks Sean.

“Twenty. How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

He glances at the others, then back at me, narrowing his eyes. “He might be a lost case, but sure, let him in on the fun next time, I’d say. See how much he can stomach.”

He stares me down, but I meet his hard gaze without so much as a flinch. I’m not afraid of them. The only one who intimidates me for real is Mr. Salvatore himself, but he hired me, so he must’ve seen something in me, right?

I don’t wanna fucking drive for the rest of my life, I want to be a part of the gang. I want to be a mobster. My dad was a small-time thief, a junkie who did more stints in jail than anyone could count. I swore I’d make something better of my life, stay the hell away from drugs, make money, find me a girl and a decent place to live. I still live in a dump, but I can almost taste it now, I’m getting there, day by day, mission by mission.

Christian Russo rips open the door and falls down on the seat, sticking a toothpick between his teeth. “We’ll take you with us next time, kid. Now get us the fuck outta here.”

As I pull out, I can’t help wondering what state the guy is in inside those brick walls. Has he called for help yet? Will he dare go to the hospital even? I’m both thrilled and disgusted at the same time. I fought my way through school, bullied for my dirty, sweat-smelling clothes, the poverty, for not bringing lunch to school, but I’ve never actually been in a fight where I’m the instigator.

Back at the residence, the group files through the hallway and disappears into the house. I wait by the door guard, unsure where to go, but then I steer my steps toward the kitchen, figuring I can find a sandwich and a beer. Before I get more than a few steps, the door to Salvatore’s office slams open and a man I’ve never seen before comes charging out, his face white, his features contorted with rage. He storms out the front door, snarling at the guard. Then everything goes quiet.

The door to the office still stands open and I can’t help glance inside as I pass it. Salvatore paces back and forth, looking like a panther on the prowl. Our eyes meet and he perks up.

“Just the man I was looking for!”

I twitch and come to a full stop, careful to hide the trepidation. “Sir?”

“I’m gonna need you to drive a very important person for me later tonight. Are you up for it?”

Is he asking? Not really. He’s ordering. Never, ever assume you have a freedom of choice.

“Of course, sir. When?”

“You are to pick up a young Miss Moreno at the girls’ house. You know where it is. Tonight at six-thirty. I want to warm up before dinner.” He laughs, but there’s no joy in the sound, only wickedness.

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