Honored_ An Alpha Mob Romance(3)

“I know how it goes,” I grunted.

Before Max could give me more bullshit, a white van pulled around the corner and slowed to a stop in front of us. Max pulled open the back door and climbed in, looking back out at me. I hesitated, knowing full well what it meant if I got in that car. It meant I was going to kill a man, probably a deserving, violent asshole, but a human nonetheless. I was going to pull the trigger to defend my people.

I sighed. Sometimes, it wasn’t good to be a Right Person.

I climbed into the van, and Max slammed the door behind us. We sped off into traffic and the night.

Hours later, the afternoon sunlight was bright against my frayed nerves. I hadn’t slept much the night before, and the sound of the gun going off in my hand, the smell of fear, the claustrophobia of the crack house room I found the guy lying in, and the overwhelming terror I felt as I moved back out into the street replayed through my mind, keeping me awake. I sweated through one pair of sheets and had to replace them, though that didn’t make me feel any cleaner. It felt like I had blood caked all over my hands, though that couldn’t have been true. I took the longest, hottest shower of my life after I got back to my apartment.

A life of crime wasn’t what I wanted when I was a kid, but I was born into it. I was never given much of a choice. I had the stomach for it, I loved the rush, and I had the skills, but there was still something revolting about the way the Mob worked, with their callous disregard for human life. There were parts I loved about being one of the Right People and parts I hated, and the murder was one of the things I despised the most. Violence was one thing, but murder was something else completely. But I understood it. I understood why it was necessary to do things we didn’t want to do, and so I performed my duties without complaining. I could kill a man when I had to, even if I didn't like it. I could break his knees it smash his face. It was part of who I was.

I didn’t know if that guy deserved what I did to him. I didn’t have the power to decide who was innocent and who wasn’t. I followed orders.

That was my excuse, at least. I would do whatever I had to.

I slipped on a pair of sunglasses as I walked down the block, heading toward the sound of idling cars and children. I checked my watch: three thirty in the afternoon. I was right on time, though that wasn’t always the case. I hated making the kid wait, but in my line of work, I couldn’t always control my schedule. Anyway, I was better than his piece-of-shit mother, at least. She never showed up, no matter what.

I shook my head as scenes from the night before threatened to creep into my mind. Flashes of violence and fear came through no matter how hard I tried to resist them. To distract myself, I hummed softly, winding my way through the other parents picking up their kids. I spotted Richie sitting off to the side of the front door, his back to the brick façade, his nose buried in some weird-looking Gameboy.

“Yo, kid,” I called out, and he looked up.

A smiled broke across his face, and for a second I didn’t feel like I had blood underneath my fingernails.

“Hey, Liam,” he said, standing.

“How was it?”

“The usual.”

He looked down at his Gameboy and started playing again. I grinned at him, guiding him through the crowd with my hand on his back. Richie wasn’t a big talker, and that suited me just fine. I wasn’t the best with kids, but I was getting better. Richie was easy to deal with, at least.

Before we got far, I heard a voice cut through the din of chattering parents and screaming children.

“Mister Sullivan?”

I turned and looked back, and then I stood there blinking. Walking toward me through the crowd was this young, gorgeous blonde. She was wearing a simple white button-down shirt and a beige cardigan, and her hair framed her pretty face perfectly. Her lips were pink and full, and her eyes were an intense shade of green that I had never seen before. She was probably around my age, maybe a year or two younger, and her body was fantastic. I couldn’t help but eye her nice tits and curvy shape.

“Who’s this?” I said to Richie softly.

He glanced up. “Miss Boucher,” he said.

“Not helpful,” I muttered to him.

“Mister Sullivan?” she said again, getting closer.

I gave her my best “responsible parent” smile. “Yes, hey there, Miss Boucher.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Richie’s teacher,” she said, extending her hand.

That made sense. I took it and we shook. I blinked for a second and took off my sunglasses, surprised at the way her hand felt. It was soft but firm, and I wanted the touch to linger. I almost felt bad about wanting to fuck Richie’s teacher on her desk.