Heartless (Merciless 2)

“Can we get another?” Oliver asks, the happiness not at all dampened. He doesn’t see how Frank stumbles backward; he doesn’t notice the change in the air. Frank does, and all he says on his way out is, “Of course, boss.”

Yeah, Frank’s an all right guy.

As I pull out the chair across from Oliver, letting it drag across the floor, Frank leaves, entering back into the club, bringing in the pounding music. It’s quick to fade as the door closes with a resounding click.

“Thank you, thank you,” Oliver thanks Jared, who’s pouring out another shot of whiskey in front of Oliver and then filling the empty glass Frank just had.

“To finally snuffing out the fucking Talverys.” Oliver’s age finally shows as he raises the glass in the air and doesn’t hide the hate on his face. He’s new to the crew. Not at all like Frank, who started with me only five years ago. I picked up men as I took over street by street. Giving the men who ran them the option to come with me or die.

Oliver came to me though. Pissed that Talvery didn’t want him, he offered up his services as muscle on the street. If it wasn’t for Jared’s word, I never would have hired him. Too old. Too cocky. More than that, he’s too eager to make a name for himself.

With a nod of my head, the old man throws the drink back, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he sets down the glass and shakes off the burn of the shot.

“I heard everyone’s ready to get it over with,” I tell him, resting both of my arms on the table. A sly grin kicks up his lips. “Couldn’t be more ready, boss.”

My own grin shows itself. An asymmetric smirk as he calls me boss.

The dumb fuck should have remembered that earlier today.

“So, what happened,” I ask him easily, motioning with my hand palm up for more, “give me all the details.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear as he tells me what I already heard, what everyone heard.

“There were four of them right across the street from Dale’s bar, on Sixth Street. I saw them walking in and knew they’d be there for a few.”

In my periphery, I see Jared stiffen; he knows me well enough to realize that this isn’t going to end well for the man he stuck his neck out for to get on the crew. I bet he’s wondering what that means for him. If I was him, I’d be wondering too.

Oliver still hasn’t caught on. He’s nothing but proud as he tells me how he walked in and shot all four of them before they ever grabbed their guns.

“All on Talvery’s turf? That takes balls.” I compliment him although inside my heart is pounding, adrenaline raging inside of me and the tension building. I’ve been needing a release for all of this pent-up anger. Wiping the smirk off old Oliver’s face might be exactly what I need. That, or falling back into bed with Aria.

Just the thought of having her makes me want to speed this shit up and get back to her.

I’ve already been gone long enough.

“No one’s making a move, but they were right there,” he says and emphasizes his words, shaking his hands in the air. No one’s crossing lines, and no one’s made a move, not even Nikolai. But this dumb fuck thought he could do it and get away with it.

“How many shots have you had so far?” I ask him, my foot tapping against the ground as my impatience grows with every thought of getting Aria under me tonight.

“This is my fifth since Jared brought me in.” He sways slightly in his chair as he tells me, but the smile only widens.

“Two for each of the four,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear me and stand up. I have to walk around the table to pat him on the shoulder as I tell him, “Three more, all on me.”

The smell of whiskey hits me hard as he reaches up to return the pat on my arm. His touch is firm with the first pat, but I don’t stay in place, making the second one turn to a tap. My gaze is on Jared as Oliver says something behind me. A thanks and another cheers to killing the Talverys. I don’t fucking care what the dead prick has to say.

Pausing in front of Jared, I keep my voice low as I tell him.

“It’s on you to slit his throat when he’s done those three shots.”

On cue, Oliver calls out for another. The blood drains from Jared’s face, but he nods and with a low voice he answers, “Of course.”

There’s not a hint of anything but remorse on Jared’s face. He’s tense, but he had to know it was coming. “No one does a damn thing until I say so.” My shoulders stiffen, and the anger threatens to show itself, so I reach out, straightening Jared’s tie and then add, “If there are any other dumb fucks who want to show off and not wait for my orders,” I look Jared in the eye to tell him, “don’t bother me and make me come in here. Kill the pricks where they stand.”