Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
“We’re doing this job,” he says, his tone low and menacing. “You’ll take the girl, and you’ll do what you need to do. Understood?”
“We’ll see,” I push the words out through clenched teeth.
Chapter 5
Gio
* * *
If I’m going to do this, I’m doing it the right way.
That means planning. Preparation. Research. The days are long gone where a hitman could just run into a joint, shoot his gun, and run away. I need to be prepared for absolutely every and any possibility, because it’s all happened to me in the past.
My father gives me shit over the planning, but he didn’t have to deal with what I deal with back when he was still in his prime. Drones, DNA testing - hell, a single hair could give me away. I have to be aware of all of that, every little thing that could possibly give me away and ruin the hit.
This time it’s different. This time I’m being given a new assignment, something I’ve never done before, but at the same time it's something I’m too familiar with.
I lean back in my chair and shake my head, trying not to let myself get lost in those memories again. I pull up my laptop and start researching the girl, Grace. It doesn’t take me long before I find out most of her information.
She’s beautiful, just like Marco said. She’s a mob princess, so she’s probably used to being treated like royalty. Except it’s strange, there’s not a lot of stuff about her on social media. I’d expect a mafia princess like her to have an active Instagram or something, but instead it’s mostly a wasteland.
There are only a few pictures, and her Facebook profile is pretty dormant. It gives me enough to go on, and at least I know what she looks like, but it’s very strange there isn’t more.
I can’t help but wonder about this Grace. Who is she? Who is this woman I’m going to have to break down?
I lean back and take a deep breath before standing and walking over to a window. Duke looks up at me as I walk past him. I don’t pay him any attention, because he wasn’t around back then. He doesn’t know what it was like.
My father wasn’t always in this business. Before he was a killer, he was a sex trafficker.
Maybe that’s putting it too lightly. My father had a huge network of men in eastern Europe that would kidnap young attractive women and smuggle them over into the United States. From there, my father broke them utilizing a whole slew of methods, many of which he taught me over the years.
I’ll never forget his favorite method, and the night he first showed me. It was late, probably after midnight, and I was already in bed. He came upstairs reeking of vodka and woke me up, then forced me to follow him. He took me out back into the old horse stable we had out there.
But of course, it wasn’t a horse stable. The inside had been gutted and renovated, turning the old horse paddocks into cells with thick steel doors. Inside each cell was a woman.
I was ten years old.
He brought me into the first cell on the left where a girl maybe sixteen years old was huddled in the corner. My father told me to stay still and watch as he took his belt off and beat the girl until she obeyed him. By the time he was finished she was bleeding and crying, but at least she was down on her knees with her forehead on the ground, submitting to him.
“See, son?” he said to me. “That’s how you break a girl for the first time. She needs to know that she’s a rotten piece of shit, and without me, she’s nothing.” He spit on the ground before pulling me out of the cell, leaving the girl alone in her agony.
I hated him, but I didn't know why. His methods were cruel, brutish, and awful. But he had other methods, some clever. They played on the women’s desires and fears, created a bond of friendship and trust. He only used those tactics on women that wouldn’t obey him under threat of violence alone.
He gave up being a trafficker not too long after that night. His guys got pinched overseas, cutting off his supply of girls. Then a few women got away, forcing him to move away from the area, and he never got back into the business.
But everyone knows what he did back then. It’s honestly a miracle that he never got caught, and probably entirely because he got out when he did.
That’s why Marco is giving me this girl, though. Marco knows what my father used to be, and he knows that my father showed me some of his methods.