Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(14)

Gray




My blood boils like hot oil in my veins.

Fuck this shit. This ends today. The idea of Joey Luco exploiting anyone makes me sick. But her? Well that makes me goddamn furious. Enraged. It makes me want to go back on the promise I made when I left the Marines those years before — to never kill again.

My hand clenches the gun tightly as I jog down the staircase to her floor, skipping the elevator this time. But no, I’m not a murderer. I’m also not a total fucking idiot, so I’ve got my full-face skiing mask with me that I grabbed from my hall closet before I left. I’m may not be here to kill Joey, but I am going to make sure he never fucking goes near her again. And to do that, and to ensure that, I need to make sure he doesn’t realize that the guy with the gun is his boss, Gino Moretti’s, retained counselor.

I slip inside her condo and close the door behind me. The lights are off, and I make sure to pull all the shades down low before I sit and wait for Joey. She’s texting him now about the money, and when he shows up, this shit is over.

I’ve always hated him. I hated that my first job working for the Morettis after the Marines was to get him off of some assault charges. And I did, cause I’m fucking good at my job. But this is never the life I wanted. I had plans for a private practice. Hell, I’d kicked my own ass to finish law school before enlisting. Dylan, my friend from the phone call last night before Zoe walked up naked, was supposed to join me, but he…well, plans change.

I never got my practice, and I got sucked into the same crime family my father worked for, also as a lawyer. Worse, I sucked my friends in too. Dylan had promised to finish law school, but after the service, he sort of floated his own way. A lot of guys do, and I only didn’t because I hurled myself into work. Roman, our other friend, should have been anything else but what he ended up as — an enforcer for the Morettis, also like his dad.

Roman’s working private security detail with the boss’s wife, Quinn. And Dylan, well, he’s in bad. That porn studio Zoe mentioned? Yeah I know it alright. Nico and Joey have been building it for a while now. Some shit went down, and Dylan’s in trouble with Nico. And Nico being the sick fuck he is, is having my buddy pay him back by shooting a fucking porn for them Yeah, not behind the camera. In front of it. Him and some poor girl who also owes them.

I growl, the clouds rolling behind my eyes.

I need out — out of this whole fucking world that I’m slowly drowning in. The money is a drug, and I need to quit it before I’m so addicted that I never dig my way back.

A loud crash against her condo front door snaps me out of my commiserating, and suddenly, I’m as focused as if this was Fallujah.

“Hey! Bitch!”

Joey’s voice outside her door has my teeth grinding together.

“Open the— fuck it.”

There’s a clicking sound, and then the door slams open. Joey stands in the doorframe, illuminated by the hallway lights before he steps into the condo.

It’s dark in here. I’ve kept it that way on purpose. He swears, stumbling into the place looking for a light switch, and I move in — Marine muscle memory kicking in. I steady the gun in my hand, focused on him.

“Goddamnit, Zoe, where the fuck are—”

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

I’m masking my voice, making it extra low and gravely, even if I doubt this shit stain would ever recognize his boss’s lawyer in this situation.

Joey swears and starts to whirl.

“Who the fuck—”

He feels the gun barrel at the back of his head and freezes “Woaaah, pal.” He clears his throat. “Listen to me, buddy. You need to—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snarl, pressing the gun hard into his neck.

“The girl — the one who’s been living here.”

Joey tenses. “Look, asshole—”

“She’s done,” I hiss. “Whatever she owes you, she’s done. Do we understand each other?”

Joey’s quiet for a second, his jaw twitching.

“Where is she?”

“Not here, and not working for you.”

“Where is she, asshole? That bitch owes—”

I hit him hard in the back of the head with the butt of the gun, smiling thinly to myself when he grunts and almost falls over.

“Fuck, man! What the fuck is your— fuck! Stop it!”

“Mind your fucking mouth.”

Joey grunts. “You fucking prick, where the hell—”

“Out of your hands, forever”

“Listen—”

I pull hammer back on the gun, loudly, and Joey finally stops talking and freezes.

“Okay, okay. Chill, pal.”

“She's done, is that understood?” I hiss menacingly. “You don’t look for her, you don’t think about her, and you make sure no one you’re affiliated with does either. Do we understand each other?”

He’s quiet.

“Nod, asshole,” I spit through clenched teeth.

He does.

“Good,” I growl. “Now nod a third time if you understand that if you ever try and find her, or hurt her, or do anything to her? Fuck if you even think about her? I'll be there, and next time, nothing in this world will stop me from finding you, sticking this gun down your fucking throat, and pulling the trigger until it’s empty.”