GIFT FROM THE HITMAN: The Petrov Mafia

by Zoey Parker

  I crossed the field into the parking lot and approached my car. Jimmying open the door, I tossed my bag into the passenger’s seat and shut the door behind me. It was silent and peaceful in the musty interior. I closed my eyes just to breathe for a second while dust motes swirled in the sunbeams around me.

  The tears took me by surprise. I felt an unexpected catch in my throat, then, before I knew it, water was streaming down my face and I was wrecked with sobs. I rested my head on the steering wheel and wept while my whole body jerked up and down. I couldn’t think or form words; all I could do was unclench and let the tears flow.

  After a few long minutes, the crying dried up and the sobs died down into random hiccups. I sat up straight and wiped my eyes. It felt good to cry, although I wasn’t even sure what had prompted this random psychotic breakdown in the middle of a beautiful day.

  But when I stopped, I felt silly. It was a picture-perfect spring afternoon, and yet here I was, bawling like a baby alone in my car. And over what? A clumsy interaction with some boy I’d probably never see again. I felt my phone buzz in my lap and I looked down to see a text pop up.

  Hey, this is Dan, the guy from the park you called “beautiful” :) Nice to meet you today. Let me know if you’d like to grab dinner sometime.

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. As badly as I might want to—and I did—there was no way I could text him back right away. I needed some time to recover and consult with my friends about how to handle the situation before replying to him. Besides, I’d already looked pathetically desperate when we first talked. An immediate response would make it seem like I had been sitting with my phone clutched in my hands, just waiting for him to send me a message.

  I texted my best friend, Lori, a short note. Hi. Are you home?

  The response was immediate. Yesss come hang out.

  Be there in a min xx

  As I fired up the car and pulled out of the parking space, I wondered if the crying really was silly after all, or if maybe it was a tiny bit justified. After all, I didn’t know many other girls who were eighteen, in college, and still living at home with a curfew and serious restrictions on what they could do and with whom. Most of the time, I tried to convince myself that my life was normal, that everything was groovy, that I didn’t care if I wasn’t allowed to date or whatever. But every once in a while, like today, I had a tiny glimpse into how much I chafed at my dad’s rules. It didn’t matter how many times he explained his reasoning to me; I just wanted to go to dinner with Dan, for crying out loud. I’d never even been on a proper date at all, and this was a Greek god of a boy who had texted me even after the hideous display I’d put on.

  I decided I would try to talk to Daddy. Maybe this time I’d be able to convince him to let me go.

  # # #

  “Girl, you have to!” Lori shrieked. “Oh my goodness, are you kidding me? He is gorgeous—drop dead, freaking gorgeous.”

  We were an hour deep into some serious social media stalking. Every one of Dan’s profiles was pulled up on the screen of Lori’s laptop, and we were hunched over side by side, oohing and ahhing at his pictures, each more beautiful than the last.

  “I know, I know,” I whined. I sounded miserable, even to my own ears. “But you know my dad’s rules.”

  “Forget your dad’s rules! Do you see these abs?” She jabbed a finger at the shirtless picture on the screen, her mouth parted in unconcealed desire, and with good reason: they were out of this world.

  “Shush,” I said, laughing. “Lower your voice; you’re screaming.”

  “I’ve got every right to be screaming! This boy walked straight out of a magazine and into your life. It would be a crime to womankind everywhere if you didn’t go to dinner with him.”

  I leaned up and rubbed at a kink in my neck. “I don’t know,” I said. “I just cannot imagine a world where my dad all of the sudden becomes this laidback, lenient parent. You know how he is. He’s been so uptight ever since what happened to my mom.”

  Lori’s face softened and she laid a gentle hand on my knee. “That’s gotta be hard for him, though,” Lori said softly. “I mean, his wife gets brutally murdered and they never even track down who did it? The loss is hard enough, but to have to live with that kind of uncertainty…it must be tough, that’s all I’m saying. Tough for you, too, obviously.”

  “Yeah,” I replied noncommittally. It had been three years since my mother’s murder, and I still found myself feeling suddenly upset at random times, though the emotions had mostly calmed down. The hardest part was the lack of closure. No killer had ever been caught, though, given what my father did for a living, it wasn’t surprising that the police hadn’t looked too hard.

  I didn’t know exactly what Daddy’s job was, other than his title and the name of his club. He was extra careful to keep me sheltered far away from anything having to do with the Wild Kings. From anything having to do with anything, as a matter of fact. I was fifteen when Mom died, and, since then, I’d essentially lived under house arrest.

  Even college, which was an escape from home for most people my age, was just more of the same for me. I was only allowed to go to the University of New Mexico, right down the street, and the question of where I was going to live during school was answered the second I brought it up at dinner one night.

  “Dad,” I’d said cautiously between bites of spaghetti.

  He looked up at me, those grey eyes as flat and calm as always. “What’s up, Car?” he’d asked.

  I remembered how hard it was to swallow and form the words I’d been practicing in the mirror in the weeks since I’d gotten my UNM acceptance letter. “I was thinking that maybe we could work out a way where I could live in the dorms at school this fall.” The silence that hung in the air when I finished was almost poisonous.

  But he hadn’t even bothered to look at me when he finally answered. He just shook his head and went back to eating his dinner. “No,” he’d said dismissively. “Not an option.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “I said no, Carmen. I don’t want you to ask me that again.”

  And that was the end of it. There was never any arguing with him, even when he was in the best of moods, but especially not when he had his serious face on. Come hell or high water, I was going to live at home. That was right where I belonged, according to Papa James. Right where he could make sure I was safe.

  I wouldn’t have called it “safe,” though. “Trapped” might have been a better word.

  “So, anyway,” Lori said abruptly. She could always tell when I started flicking through unhappy memories in my head. She was my best friend for a reason, and there was no one else in the world who was better at pulling me out of a funk. “Are you going to text Dan back?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied, biting my lip nervously. “What would I even say?”

  “Anything! Jeez, it’s not that hard. Say you’re free tonight! Tomorrow! Next year! Just say something, ya goon.” Lori pretended to pull her hair out in frustration with me. I laughed. She’d always had such an easy time with boys. They flocked to her, and it was obvious why. She had brown hair that fell in a shimmering curtain almost all the way to her waist, and a body to die for. Plus, those bright blue eyes of hers always had that half-innocent, half-mischievous look that drove the dumber sex wild. Over the years since we’d first become friends, I’d seen any number of boys do crazy things just to catch her attention.

  It wasn’t just her looks that did it, either. Lori was so comfortable with flirting, with the push and pull of banter. I was super jealous of her ever since I could remember. When it came time to talk to a boy, I felt stupid and clumsy all of the sudden, like I’d never had a conversation before. The way things had gone down with Dan this morning was a perfect example of why I would never be able to find a man of my own.

  “Ugh,” I said as I buried my head in Lori’s lap. “But you weren’t there this morning! You didn’t see how badly it went!”

&nbs
p; She stroked my hair. “I’m sure you’re imagining things far worse than they were.”

  “No,” I protested as I bolted upright. “It was bad. Really bad. Like, by the time he left, I was bawling my freaking eyes out.”

  Lori tilted her head to the side and gazed at me with concern written all over her face. “Crying because of Dan in particular, or because of the whole situation in general?”

  “I don’t know. Both, I guess. I don’t think I realized how much my dad’s rules have really been grating on me lately. Or maybe I’ve just ignored it.”

  “I think that’s exactly what’s happening. You need to talk to him,” she urged.

  “Which one, my dad or Dan?”

  “Either! Both!” She whacked me with a pillow. I fell backwards, giggling and shielding myself from further attack. “Talk to anyone!” But her voice softened as she dropped the pillow and touched my thigh again. “But I’m serious. Talk to your dad. He’s gotta let you grow up at some point. You can’t be his little girl forever.”

  I started chewing my fingernails, which was a nervous habit I detested but couldn’t seem to get rid of. I’d run the gamut of treatments to make me stop, but nothing did the trick. “You’re right,” I admitted eventually. “He’s gonna blow his stack. But I have to talk to him. I’m not some princess in a tower. If he wants me to be happy, he’s going to have to lighten up at some point or another.”

  “There you go,” Lori exulted, throwing her hands to the ceiling. “Praise the Lord, she finally starts speaking some sense! Hallelujah!”

  “Enough already,” I snapped as I pretended to be angry. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

  She dropped her voice low and gave me a teasing, sultry glance. “Baby, this is only a taste of it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oy, you’re ridiculous.”

  “I’m just getting started, babelicious.”

  “I’m going home.”

  Lori smacked my ass jokingly as I climbed off her bed and bent over to pick up my backpack from the floor. I yelped and jumped straight into the air. “What on earth was that for?” I screeched.

  Lori rolled on her back, legs kicking in the air, cackling her ass off. “I just wKisha get you ready for Danster,” she teased. “There’s a whole lot more where that came from!”

  I muttered, half to her and half to myself, as I turned to leave the room, “I can’t believe I’m friends with you.”

  “You love me and you know it.” She leaped off and planted a friendly kiss on my cheek. “Let me know how the talk with your dad goes.”

  I swallowed hard. It was not going to be a pretty conversation.

  Chapter Two

  Ben

  I brought the stacks of cash to my face and took a deep inhale. Nothing in the world was better than that crisp shit. Brand new bills were like an aphrodisiac. Hell, the smell made me hard all by itself. Good thing I was in my office alone or I might have gotten some weird looks.

  I set down the first two stacks and picked up two more. These I hefted in my hands. The weight, the clean edges—there really was nothing in the world that felt so immediately right when I held it. In this life, there were rare moments of perfection, and this was one of them.

  I sighed like a fat man after a big, delicious meal and leaned back in my chair, folding my hands behind my head. I surveyed the room. It was my office, fairly plain and Spartan, just the way I liked it. Painted on the far wall in a massive mural was the crest of the Dark Knights MC. My MC.

  “Hey, prez,” said a voice at the door. I looked over and saw Slick sticking his shaved head just inside the cracked doorframe.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Got a few more with me. You want to take a look at ’em?”

  A huge grin spread across my face. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  Slick chuckled as he opened the door farther and dragged in two more heavy duffle bags overflowing with bound stacks of dollar bills. With a grunt, he hefted each of them on top of my desk, next to the two that were already there.

  “Goddamn,” he said with a low whistle, shaking his head side to side in disbelief, “what a haul.”

  “Ain’t it beautiful?”

  “It sure is, prez; it sure fuckin’ is. Can’t believe those jokers were dumb enough to keep it all in one place.”

  “A fool and his money are soon parted, amigo,” I said wisely.

  Slick snorted. “You sound like a goddamn fortune cookie.”

  I laughed. On a day like today, I’d let his comment slide. I was just too damn happy to worry about something as petty as an insult from one of my men. Other times, he might not have been so fortunate as to avoid a classic Ben Killmore storm of wrath. But with all this money in front of me, I was like a virgin teenager at the whorehouse. Where should I even begin?

  “Slick, my good man, this calls for a celebration.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What you got in mind?”

  “The works. I want a fuckin’ blowout. Pack this clubhouse full of pretty sluts and enough liquor to kill an army. After pulling this off, we deserve to treat ourselves.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “Of course not. That’s why I’m the president and you’re the one dragging these heavy-ass bags down the hallway to my office.”

  “You’re an asshole, Ben.”

  “The richest one you know.”

  Slick laughed as he turned and headed down the hall to assign men towards getting ready for the party tonight. Just before he walked out the door, he paused. “Oh, prez, I just remembered. Jay said he wanted to talk to you. Wanted to debrief the raid.”

  “Always business with that guy, isn’t it?”

  “You’re tellin’ me.”

  “He’s probably right, though. Send the bastard in.” I heard Slick step into the hallway and shout Jay’s name down towards the bar area.

  “He’s on his way,” he confirmed a second later with a thumbs-up.

  “Good. Now get outta here before I bean you in the skull with one of these blocks of money.”

  Slick coiled in mock horror. “Don’t do that! Those things are so heavy they might kill me.”

  “What a way to die that would be.”

  He chuckled before disappearing down the hall.

  Jay walked in a moment later. He stopped and leaned against the doorjamb to light a cigarette. Taking a long drag and then another, he swept his eyes over my loaded desktop and gave me a bemused grin. “You look downright giddy, Mr. President,” he said wryly.

  “Jay,” I said magnanimously, spreading my arms wide like a king, “how could I be anything but? Are you not seeing what I’m seeing? This is like my birthday and Christmas and the day I lost my virginity, all wrapped up into one! I’m ecstatic!”

  He strolled over to the seat in front of my desk and plopped down, spreading his legs wide. He looked thoroughly unimpressed.

  “C’mon, Jay baby,” I joked, “just gimme a little smile. Just some Spark so I know you’re human underneath that tough guy act you love to put on so much.”

  He took a long drag. “It’s a lot of money,” he said evenly.

  I threw my hands into the air in exasperation and leaned back. Jay was who he was; there was no changing him. Then again, that was the reason he made such a damn good number two. He was as even keel as they came, with motherfucking glaciers in his veins. There’d been times when I’d seen him elbow deep in blood as he worked on extracting information from some poor sap from a rival club, and he had looked just as calm as a Hindu cow. All business, all the time. He just did what needed to be done. Money couldn’t buy a better man. Jay was truly one of a kind.

  “All right,” I said, “let’s hear what you gotta say.” I lit up a cigarette of my own as he started talking.

  “There were some mistakes made on the raid,” he said. “A couple of the new guys got a little sloppy.”

  “Who?”

  “Duncan and Spark.”


  “What’d they do?”

  “The usual shit they like to get up to. Toying around with the guard instead of just putting the bastard out of his misery real quick. They grabbed this from him.”

  He tossed a gun onto my desk. It was a small pistol with a red knife logo emblazoned on the bottom of the butt. I recognized it as the insignia of the Wild Kings. I grunted and picked it up, hefting it in my hands as I thought about what to do.