Room Eight

Damn. I got lost in my thoughts again.

I open my door and slip from the back of my cousin’s Mercedes and lean down a little to answer his driver. The man is in his late sixties, has gray hair, and owns one of the sincerest smiles I’ve seen on a man.

“Thank you, Raphe.” He gives a knowing smile and I make a mental note to pick him up the sweet cherry flavored pipe tobacco I know he prefers.

Club members come and go at all hours, but the majority don’t show up until sundown; since it’s barely three in the afternoon it’s not unusual for no one else to be in the underground parking. I spent most of yesterday and last night pulling overtime on a contract so I took some personal time and decided to come in late. A perk of my new job.

True to form, the driver waits as I enter the elevator before pulling away. I punch the large number three on the wall panel and stand back as the doors swoosh closed. Seconds later I’m walking onto Genesis’ dark floor. Not because of aesthetics or its black carpet, but because this level is treated like a vault of silence.

What happens on the dark floor, stays on the dark floor.

When my cousin read the rules to my position I laughed too, but he was dead serious. Something he’s been a lot of lately.

Land locked with two floors above and two below, the third level of Club Genesis is a country of its own. The price of entry is a Genesis membership, your fingerprint in blood in my ledger, and no less than five-hundred thousand dollars in the undertaker’s escrow.

Unless you are a runner. That membership is blood in, blood out once you have given your loyalty to the Northern Alliance.

This floor is where deals are made, sealed, and enforced by my cousin’s crew. Bounties are issued and collected. And all overseen by me.

I step out of the elevator and immediately to my right the day receptionist greets me with a polite smile and tilt of her head.

In front of me, the open floor plan is sectioned off into three areas. Against the far wall is where the private rooms are. Behind those doors is where negotiations are handled by the men of Genesis. If you ever wondered where the bad guys with guns come to make deals with other bad guys' guns, well, now you have your answer. In the back rooms of Genesis’ dark floor.

Toward the middle of the spacious opening is my area—the parlor. Cute name for where hits and retrievals are taken out in the underworld of Chicago. It has raised half-walls that give me a level of privacy with clients, but not much. Toward the front and near the receptionist is the lounge—a collection of sofas and low knee-level tables where Genesis’ runners come looking for a contract to fulfill. Or collect payment on one.

And right now, I have a handful of runners tracking my every move.

Creepy bastards.

I grew up here back when my cousin’s father ran the place with my father. They were thick back then. Before the shit hit the proverbial fan anyway.

Being here isn’t the issue. It’s doing his old job, being around the sons of the men he worked with…that is what has me questioning my very reason for breathing.

The air is cool and smells of an odd combination of gunpowder courtesy of the runners and the scent of roses coming from the large bouquet at the end of the counter.

I step up to the reception desk and the woman behind the counter hands me my ledger.

“Afternoon, ma’am.”

Her smile is rehearsed, as is the perfect winged eye-liner. But I don’t take offense. We all wear masks here.

I give a curt nod. Hearing her address me like I’m twenty years her senior is just weird when I’m two years her senior at best.

“Call me Sapphire, Lexi. It’s okay. Really.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Granted, I am her boss so I can’t blame her for sticking to the rules. But I still huff a sigh. I have more important battles anyway. Like figuring a way out of this job without pissing off my cousin. Or letting him down. Now that he’s head of the family and this club, he’s giving me the chance to clear my name.

I can’t screw that up.

I crack open the hard-covered book about three hundred pages thick and turn to the middle for today’s date.

Inside are the names of outstanding bounties and their holders with the names of the runners along the side picked for the job. The bounty placed on each contact is also written in its column. Doing a quick tally, and if all aspects of each contract have been met, I’m scheduled to pay out a little over five hundred thousand dollars today.

Maybe now you understand why I’ve been having a hard time finding my glass half full. My life deals with death every single day and I’m the one who signs on the dotted lines when the job is complete and bodies are in the morgues.

Sure, nearly one-hundred percent of them are rapists, drug dealers selling to children, kidnappers, and traffickers. But not all. Not all.

That is the part Harlon says I need to come to terms with and fast if I want to have a soul and sleep at night.

My fantasies of wrapping babies in my arms, kissing a loving husband, and feeling protected from the monsters of the world are nothing but fairy tale make-believes. Monsters are very real in my world and I’m not entirely sure I am not one of them. Belle thinks my outlook is a little jaded but, hands down I am not the kind of girl a guy brings home to meet the family.

Lexi clears her throat.

Right. I lock down my wayward thoughts and bring my focus where it needs to be. My job.

I narrow my eyes on the men waiting for me to dish out their fees. I can’t help but wonder how many know my history. Do they know I’m that Sapphire? How could they not?

“How long have they been waiting?” I place my phone on the counter.

A couple of the runners look like they want to reach for their guns and demand their money while the other three are deceptively calm.

The redheaded receptionist stands a little taller, her jaw tight. A set of steel nerves is needed to work in this place and in the few weeks I’ve been here I’ve never seen Lexi nervous before now.

“Umm…a few of them have been here since around noon and the others arrived a little before you did.” Her eyes dart over my shoulder before locking on mine. “The tall one with the leather jacket and heavy-set shoulders has been playing with his knife for thirty minutes now. When he came in he mouthed off about hearing you were taking over the floor. It didn’t sit well with him. He said he would do you for free if you tried to run off with his money.”

I’m compelled to look over my shoulder. Ugh, bad decision. My eyes lock onto the devil in leather. And I’m not talking about the sexy version on TV. This one is fugly and sneers more than smiles.

Snake Eyes. A real bastard. Up until now, I haven’t had to deal with him face to face. Harlon warned me about him. When you need to send a message, he is the one to get the job done. Word through the club is the twisted assassin rolls a set of dice before picking how he tortures his contract.

I swear if anyone were to manage to kill him, they’d find snake venom instead of blood in his veins. Taller than most and built like a tank. With the long, unruly beard, he looks like he would rather eat razor blades than use one on his face. His T-shirt, dark ripped jeans and motorcycle boots don’t exactly fit in with the level of opulence and wealth within Genesis. Then again, none of the runners care about rubbing elbows with the elite men and women in other parts of Genesis. They are here to kill and get paid for it.

I lock down a shiver and hold his black, dead eyes across the twenty feet between us.

Turning on my heel, I tell Lexi, “Make sure security is alerted we may have trouble.”

Her expression turns from vaguely worried to remorseful. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have repeated his words. I should have kept that to myself. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I wave her off, ignoring the pity in her eyes. “Don’t let it bother you. I don’t. Now alert security, Lexi.”

She does as I skim over the details in my ledger, keeping Snake Eyes in my peripheral.

Lexi presses the code for security and a minute later two men in black suits exit the elevator. They don’t do much but stand there with their hands clasped in front of them, but having them close by is a comfort.

“By the way, Mr. Constantine is looking for you. He didn’t seem too happy. He had a strange man with him.”

Hmm. Vague. “Thanks, can you let him know I’m in and will be in the back parlor?”

I close the ledger with an audible thump and collect my phone. I make eye contact with security and keep my chin high as I pass through the lounge area. At first, I thought the wide-open space was great. You know. More space and fewer walls equal a happy environment.

That equation is deceptive.