Page 30 of Precious Legacy
My chest tightens as something foreign invades my nervous system. I don’t get anxious, but when it comes to Presh, normal rules don’t apply.
“Everything good?” Alvaro calls out.
“Yeah,” I reply, shooting a text back to Alanis. “It will be.”
My fists slam relentlessly into Mason Aintree, his face turning a stunning shade of purple with every hit. By the time I’m finished with the manager of Black Jack, a legit gambling den, he’ll understand just how much trouble he’s in. This’ll serve as a warning, but the next time, he won’t be so lucky.
“I’m sorry,” he cries out through whimpers, spittle flying through the air from his bleeding mouth.
“Your apology is a little too late,” I growl, smashing my fist into his jaw.
His head swings sideways and the sickening crunch that sounds at the same time sends a ripple of satisfaction through my body. He screams out in pain, but the music from the club masks the noise.
Gotta love Saturday nights.
My father always told me to control my anger; to channel it into something useful, like boxing. Right now, I’ve been given the perfect outlet for the pent up rage I’ve been holding onto all week. I’ve not had the chance to hit the gym since all my energy has been exerted into getting my first fight night off the ground.
“Selling our secrets to the Russians comes with a price,” Alvaro tuts beside me. He folds his arms, seemingly bored with the situation. That’s him down to a T, though. He can switch with the snap of a finger, perfectly depicting the ruthless leader that I know him to be. Behind closed doors, he’s as relaxed as they come. But in front of the enemy, he looks like he’s one glare away from putting a bullet in your head, even though he’s calm beneath the surface. He must get it from his dad, because he’s mastered it so carefully that it scares even me sometimes.
“I…swear!” Mason trembles. “I?—”
“We’re not interested in your excuses,” Alvaro sneers, then nods at me to finish what we started.
Cracking my knuckles, I step forward and unleash my fury. Obviously, my anger isn’t just over this. In New York City, rumors are bound to fly around. That’s the beauty of a rumor; nobody believes a single word. What separates them from the truth is the minor details, the ones only a select few would know. Like how I’ve been planning to move Black Jack’s location, or that we’re not using the Russian’s liquor to fuel our gambling nights any more.
Those kinds of rumors can start fires, which is why I’m taking Mason’s torture so seriously. I have a message to deliver, to let the Russians know they’re playing with fire and I’m one match strike away from setting their own empire alight.
Becausetheyanswer tous.
They don’t move a single step unless we say so.
They don’t touch what isn’t theirs.
Rage soars through me, taking over my body. My arms swing left, right, moving of their own accord. Heat crawls up my spine, settling in a sweat that trickles down my temple.
This man was warned. He knew what he was doing when he signed his allegiance over to the Russians. This is the price you pay for fucking with me and my business.
“Genovese!”
I pause my assault, snapping my gaze to my best friend as my chest heaves. “What?”
He presses his hand to my chest, pushing me away. “He’s done.”
“No! He’s…”
He nods at the passed out man with his face pummeled in, eyes swollen and lips bloody. His body slouches against his restraints, limp and lifeless. Yet not an ounce of remorse rears its head within me.
Haldon holds out a cloth and I take it, dabbing at my split knuckles. I should have worn gloves, but I was too eager to get ahold of the asshole to bother.
“I’ll get the guys to clean up,” I hear Haldon say as I wipe my hands clean with the cloth. It doesn’t do much, but it’ll suffice for now. “We better head upstairs and get this shit handled.”
I nod in affirmation. “Drop Aintree at the Russian’s doorstep. I want them to know exactly who they’re messing with and what happens when you fuck with us.”
Haldon doesn’t need more instruction than that. Thankfully, we’re all on the same page when it comes to this empire. We protect it, nurture it, and if someone tries to step out of line, we don’t hesitate to take them out of the picture.
“Drinks?” Alvaro asks, clapping his hands together.
“Thought you’d never ask,” I grunt, pushing out the door.
