Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1) - Page 66

Cars sped by behind them.

“I’ll talk,” I said. “But just with one of you.”

Before Mr. Authority responded, I lifted my leg and kicked him into traffic. He screamed as his body slammed into an oncoming car. Vehicles screeched. A woman shrieked.

And his shocked partner glanced over his shoulder right as the battered body hit the pavement. By now the bat was out in plain sight and chaos had begun.

I kept my hands in my pockets.

Giorgio appeared and got to my side. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“I knew you were close by, and I had things under control.”

Shocked, Mr. Authority’s partner gripped the bat, turned to us, and scanned the space behind me. I had no idea what he saw, but I was sure it was several of my men, armed and glaring back at him.

“So, let’s talk.” I gestured to the right. “There’s an alley over there.”

He growled, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Why not?” I pointed to him. “You’ve got your bat. You should be fine.”

I left.

Giorgio snarled behind me, “Let’s go, Bat Man. Now.”

Sirens blared off in the distance. Someone had probably called an ambulance for his friend. Several had their phones out. My men grabbed a few and pushed people along.

The rest of us, along with Bat Man, walked into the alley. It sat between a brothel and a restaurant. The fragrance of boiling shellfish filled the area. Two cats meowed near dented trash cans. In this space, the tall buildings blocked the rain from entering the alley. Still, steam rose from the kitchen vents, stuffing the cramped space with an airy fog.

I avoided a puddle and pushed further into the alley. The crunch of my steps echoed off the wet brick.

“This should be fine.” I stopped and turned to him. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know my name.”

My men stood shoulder to shoulder behind him, creating a scary silhouette against the light coming from the streets.

The guy held his bat to the side. “You need all these guys to keep you safe?”

“I don’t need them. They’re here for you.” I took my jacket off and handed it to Giorgio. “At times I make a mess. The clean-up tends to be extensive.”

“They’re here for me?” he snorted.

“Who do you work for?” I walked up to him. “It’s not Celina.”

“You don’t want to know the name.”

I undid the cuffs of my shirt and took my time rolling up the sleeves. “I don’t like asking questions twice.”

“If you didn’t have your men here, I would show you how much I care about that.”

“Show me now. They won’t touch you.”

He snorted.

“Do it.”

He put both hands on the bat’s end, gripped them hard, and raised it in the air. “Come on. Show me how much you hate asking twice.”

Getting into a fighting stance, I fisted my hands and raised them. Rafael hated the way I swayed. It was subtle but annoyed him to no end. When Rafael fought, he remained stiff, elbows in and ready. I prepared for the dance. The rhythm of it all. A good sway always brought that in order.

The Russian swung his bat.

I ducked, feeling a swift wind brush through my hair. “You’ve played the game?”

“I did.” He swung again and missed.

But it was damn close. Wind whipped past my face. I didn’t have to check Giorgio to know he was frowning.

“Who do you work for?” I asked.

He tried a different method and charged for me.

I punched him in the side of his head. My fist connected to his skull, so solid, the impact drummed through my fingers. A tough blow. Delivered with skill. Too much damn skill.

Fuck.

The bat fell from the Russian’s hands. He went down, dropping to his knees and falling face first into a puddle.

Giorgio walked over to me and tried to hand me a small napkin.

I waved it away. “You think he’ll get up?”

“Not tonight.” Giorgio folded the napkin and tucked it in his pocket. “You should’ve hit him in the back or front of the head. The brain can take it better.”

“Thanks for the anatomy lesson.” I rolled my shirt down. “Take off his clothes. The Russians like to scribble all over each other. If he’s Bratva, he’ll have some ink that should tell us something. Get some pictures of the tattoos.”

Two of my men walked up to the guy, lowered, and turned him around. It took them several minutes to take off the big guy’s jacket and shirt.

Giorgio snapped several images of the man’s chest. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Drop him off at the hospital.”

“Why not kill him?”

“It’s Eden’s aunt that we’re fighting. We’ll play as nice as possible. One dead guy is enough.” I headed back to the Candy Shop, ready to get to my room and order in.

The damn woman won’t give me one break.

Tags: Kenya Wright Butcher and Violinist Billionaire Romance
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