Honored_ An Alpha Mob Romance(2)

“Hi, Liam. I’m Andrea.”

“Andrea, that’s a cute name. Where you headed, Andrea?”

“I was going to the bathroom.”

“Listen, Andrea, you should have a drink with me.”

She shook her head softly. “I can’t. I’m here with someone.”

I shrugged. “I’ll show you around the back room and the basement, give you a little tour of the place.”

She smiled. “What makes you think I’d go into a basement with some stranger I just met?”

“Because I can tell from the way you’re breathing and smiling that you find me attractive, and I find you attractive too. And you seem like the type that would want to explore that.”

There it was. I wasn’t bullshitting her; I really could tell she was into me. But it was definitely a line, and it didn’t always work. She had a surprised little look on her face, and she probably wasn’t used to a man like me going right for her.

“Okay, Liam. I’ll be back. Then you can give me that tour.”

Then again, maybe she was.

I grinned at her and touched her hip. She didn’t shy away. “I’ll be here.”

She gave me this fucking cute-as-hell look and started off. I stared at her firm ass in her tight jeans, and I guessed she was in her early twenties, probably a few years younger than me. My cock began to stir in my jeans as I imagined all the dirty shit I knew she’d let me do to her. I was sure she’d be begging for more by the end of the night.

And I wouldn’t give it to her.

I looked around the bar, smirking softly, and reminded myself again, maybe for the fiftieth time that night: it was good to be a Right Person.

“Liam,” a gruff voice called out, cutting through my good mood.

I looked over and spotted Max, all six-foot-eight of him. His thick beard was unkempt, and he had this serious expression on his face that immediately killed my hard on. I made my way over to him, picking through the crowd. I was over six feet and fit in my way, but Max made me look almost skinny.

Almost.

“What’s up, Max?” I said.

“We got a job coming,” he grunted.

Shit. I glanced back toward the bathrooms.

“Can it wait?”

“Not for some pussy, it can’t.”

I gritted my teeth and shrugged. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“Follow me.”

He stalked toward the front door without another word, and I trailed him, glancing over my shoulder, cursing softly. It was a shame to leave her, but there would be plenty of other young chicks with nice tits. There always were.

We pushed through the front door and out into the cool summer night. I followed him north, up the block, across the street, and stopped in the shadow of a big tree growing in the middle of an empty lot.

“What’s with the secrecy, Max?”

“Sensitive shit. Can’t be overheard.”

That cut through my annoyance. If we had to talk outside the bar, then it probably meant something serious was about to happen.

“What’s the play?” I asked.

He paused and looked at me seriously. “You got a hit,” he said.

I blinked. “Are you kidding?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Word from the boss. Time you started getting your hands dirty.”

I sucked in a deep breath and squeezed my hands into tight fists. I hadn’t been ordered on a hit yet, although it wasn’t like I hadn’t done my fair share of violent and nefarious things. I just hadn’t killed a man, or at least I hadn’t done it on purpose. Every Right Person was ordered on a hit sooner or later, and usually more than one. They were a way to prove your loyalty.

For a while, I was protected from the worst of it because of my father. But my father was gone, and I was just another guy that needed to be tested. And in a time of chaos, there were a lot of questions about loyalty floating around. I knew that if I didn’t perform, my loyalty might be questioned. And that would be very, very dangerous. One false move and I’d wake up with a bullet in my back.

Or not wake up, I guess.

“Who’s the guy?” I asked.

“Some dirty meth head over in Kensington. Robbed one of our people in broad daylight and broke his leg with a pipe or some shit. Nearly beat him to death, but some locals chased him off.”

I shook my head. It was pretty bad when our people were getting beatdowns from drug addicts.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

I cursed and glanced back at Drake’s.

“That a problem?” Max pressed.

“No, it’s not a fucking problem.”

“Good. Tom should be here with his van in a minute. We’ll drop you close to where the guy’s staying and leave you with a piece. You do it, you ditch the gun in a drain, and you lay low for a few days. Got it?”