Mafia King's Contract Breeder

Emmanuel POV

I kept my gun aimed at Marcus Turdin, advancing towards him one measured step at a time.

Turdin backed away stumbling, the girl’s spine rigid against him, his own gun angled out from behind her shoulder—close enough that I could see his hand shaking, adrenaline or fear, it didn’t matter which.

Dover peeled off around the back of the car out of Turdin’s sight. He cut through the alley on our left, moving fast and low along the wall.

A gunshot ran out.

I ducked, letting the bullet wizz over my head.

I shot back.

Wary of the hostage, it went wide. A far cry from my usual deadly aim.

"So it’s true what they say about you, Sagres!" Turdin roared with laughter. "You’re too soft to kill women. Ha!"

"It is beneath me," I said coldly, keeping my gun trained on him.

"And I didn’t believe Drake when he told me that you blinded him over a whore...what a joke!"

Turdin dragged Chloe Brinson in a specific direction.

Quickly lifting my gaze from my target, I scanned the bank of cars parked in the street behind him where his steps were headed.

Turdin must have a getaway car prepared there. If he was allowed to get to it, using Chloe Brinson for cover...worse, if he decided that the girl was worthwhile leverage and continued to hold her in his escape...

It was an outcome that I could not allow.

Turdin sped up his footsteps backwards as though seeing hope in sight.

A foolish hope indeed, for it opened up weaknesses in his defense.

My aim sharpened.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three shots scraped by, practically tracing the girl’s slender form, designed to catch Turdin where his thicker body could not be entirely covered by his human shield.

"FUCK!" Turdin roared.

He stumbled, blood spraying from his leg where one of my bullets had clipped him. He almost fell, but the motherfucker tightened his hold on Chloe Brinson, turning the barrel of his gun from my direction to press against her temples.

"I’ll kill— I’ll fucking kill her!" His voice wavered with pain, but was all the sharper for it.

Dover’s face emerged from the alleyway behind Turdin, looking for an angle.

"Do it then," I said coolly. "Do you think I really care?"

"No? Why don’t you shoot then?" He laughed hysterically, limping and dragging the girl towards the bank of parked cars.

"I don’t like to make a mess," I replied casually. "Just practicing my aim."

Click.

Turdin got impatient. He pressed his car keys, and the lights on a red Honda Civic lit up twelve feet away from him.

I turned my gun and took out the front wheel of the car.

"FUCK!" Turdin roared, almost strangling the girl in his arms with his grip on her.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

BANG.

There was a second of full silence.

Chloe Brinson had her eyes screwed tightly closed, her cheeks wet with tears.

Then—

A trickle of blood made its way down Turdin’s thick neck.

His body folded like a sack of potatoes and slumped in the middle of the street. A dark puddle began to spread around him.

Behind him, three paces back and perfectly steady, Dover lowered his arm.

Turdin almost took Chloe Brinson down with him when he fell. She stumbled and then stepped back from him, her hand flying to her lips.

She knocked straight into Callum Dover, gun still raised behind her.

She shrieked.

"Woah—you’re fine. You’re safe now." he said to her. "Take a deep breath."

A visible shudder ran through the girl’s body. She threw her arms around Dover’s waist and started to cry desperate, heaving sobs.

Dover turned stiff as a board and shot me a look of great alarm.

"You saved me. Th-thank you." Her voice shook on every word.

I closed the distance to where Marcus Turdin lay motionless on the road, eyes still open, his face frozen in a furious grimace.

Another enemy eliminated. The thought did not bring me as much satisfaction as it should.

I looked between the dead man and the girl sobbing on Dover’s shoulder.

Lara’s sister.

In the wrong place at the wrong time?

Or had Marcus Turdin known of the Brinson connection to me and therefore used her to test my will?

Perhaps we had killed the man a little too quickly.

As dead men could not answer my questions, I turned my attention to Chloe Brinson instead.

As I approached, Chloe looked up with clear, guileless blue eyes, damp with tears.

"What were you doing here?" I asked.

"I—uh, I came out to buy college supplies. I was on my way home," Chloe said unsteadily.

College supplies?

As she spoke, she seemed to come back to her senses. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and stepped back from Dover with a hint of embarrassment.

"My new brushes..." she murmured in dismay.

Chloe knelt, hands trembling, and gathered what had spilled from her bag. Paintbrushes. Half a dozen of them, fine-bristled, now speckled with blood.

Dover picked up a brush by his boot and handed it to her.

"This man," I grabbed Chloe by the shoulder and spun her around in the direction of Turdin’s corpse. "Do you know him? Have you seen him before?"

She let out a startled yelp when I touched her, then flinched again when her eyes landed on the dead man who had been threatening her life just minutes ago.

"I don’t know..." Her gaze darted away in fright. "He came at me so fast! I didn’t really see him—hey!"

Before she finished her words, I tugged her over to the body.

"Take a closer look," I ordered.

The girl pressed her hand to her chest, muttering something under her breath as though bracing herself, before she looked down.

"Oh, it’s him. He owns that pawn shop on the corner. I saw him there once, but I spoke to a shop boy, not him. I went to pawn a collection of old stamps, but the shop boy said they weren’t worth anything..."

The words tumbled out of her easily, unguarded and unconsidered.

If Lara was the fox—sharp-eyed, already calculating her next move before the last one landed—here was the rabbit. Soft all the way through. No claws to speak of, and no idea yet that she should grow some.

I had more questions for her—but police sirens were beginning to echo in the distance, growing closer.

Dover and I shared a look. We had to move before the police came.

"This is no place to talk," I said. "We will take you home."