Double Deep Dark Desires: A Mafia MFM Menage Romance

by Olivia Harp

  The guard blew air on his hands, the hot white steam of his breath contrasting against the dark background.

  Mills tapped the back of a truck with his pistol and the guard instantly stopped.

  “Hello?” He called.

  He put his finger on the trigger, fear rising up in him. He wasn’t a professional at all.

  He’s new. Must be.

  Beast sneaked past two more trucks, going behind the guard, just five more steps and that would be it.

  “Anyone there?” The guard called, his voice rougher, “if someone’s there, come out with your hands up or I’ll fucking shoot you. This is private property.”

  It took him several seconds before he moved, waiting for a response. Beast could see how incredibly tense he was.

  Just a few seconds ago, he carried the gun near his chest, now it was pointed down. He’s trying to convince himself it was only a stray cat or shit like that.

  Poor guy. That’s why you have to hire professionals.

  The guard gave another step forward and Mills tapped the back of the truck again. That made him stop.

  This was it, time to act.

  “All right mother fucker, you’re dead!” He said, but his voice didn’t sound so confident.

  He turned to his right to go around the truck and met the barrel of Beast’s .45 pistol.

  “Move and you’re dead,” he said flatly, there was no emotion here, just a statement of fact.

  The guard stopped, Beast could almost see the million thoughts going through his head. He pressed his rifle against his chest, wondering whether he should try to shoot him or if he was a dead man already, then his eyes turned to pleading.

  His body went stiff, anxiety taking a hold of him. He was less than ten feet away.

  “Put your gun down,” Beast said, and the man began to move, “go slow, motherfucker, unless you want your brains splattered on the floor.”

  “Don’t shoot!” He pleaded, going much slower now, setting his gun flat on the ground.

  Mills came around the truck, taking a zip tie out of his pocket, tying the man up.

  “Please don’t kill me,” he said.

  He looked forty-ish, with red, balding hair, too skinny for his own good… and definitely very scared.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Mills said, finishing up with his hands, going to his feet, “unless you fuck things up.”

  “How many inside?” Beast asked.

  “I— uh….”

  Good. He was a talker. These kind of docile thugs were the scourge of the Earth. They would sell you for nothing just to save themselves.

  No loyalty whatsoever.

  The radio came alive again.

  “West side is clear, too, I’m going back in, over.”

  “Copy that,” another voice replied.

  Beast hit him in the face, he let out a yelp that sounded more like a whiney, desperate whimper than a cry of pain.

  I didn’t even hit him that hard.

  “How many?”

  “Four,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! Wait. No. Inside? Three, one in the front.”

  Beast grabbed him by the collar.

  “What’s your name?” The man was so scared he looked like he was going to piss his pants.

  “Albert.”

  “Okay, Albert, you’re going to do exactly as we say, understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You try something, and you’re dead, understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say the words, say I understand.”

  “Yes,” Albert said, his voice quivering.

  Beast punched him again, harder this time.

  “I’m not gonna repeat myself, asshole.”

  He pointed the gun at his head.

  “Yes, I understand!” He screeched, unable to move his head away from the barrel of the gun, “I understand, sorry!”

  “Good, you don’t have to worry if you do what we tell you.”

  Mills grabbed the radio from his belt and lowered its volume.

  “Who else is out on patrol?”

  “It took him a few seconds to compose himself enough to remember.”

  “I… err… Floyd, and… that, that’s it.”

  “One person. The other two are inside the building?”

  Good. Another guard outside, one in the front entrance, two inside. Things seemed to be going as planned.

  He nodded, “watching TV.”

  “Floor?” Mills asked.

  His face turned to a question mark.

  Beast slapped him.

  “What floor, asshole?”

  “Uh, first floor. Second floor is management.”

  Beast nodded at Mills. They were done with him.

  Mills stood behind the guard, and he went crazy.

  “No, man! Don’t kill me!”

  He was losing it. God damn it.

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  “Please, bro!”

  Mills chokeholded him hard. They were feeling merciful. At least with this guy.

  He lost consciousness before ten seconds passed. He would no longer be a problem.

  “Now, the fun starts,” Beast said with a smile, knowing full well going against three heavily armed guys was suicide unless they played it right.

  The warehouse door opened and a big Latino guy walked out, looking out at the parking lot.

  “Albert?”

  Shit.

  Chapter 24

  Jena

  More than an hour had passed since they left. Jena sat on the bed, the darkness of the basement engulfing her.

  “Damn it,” she whispered.

  She knew worrying was useless, there was nothing she could do. Beast and Mills had been doing this for years, they were experts.

  But still.

  She couldn’t help it. She wished there was some other way.

  Do they enjoy doing this?

  They must. They said they had some money saved. A lot of it, I guess, to be able to just buy all that expensive clothing without a second thought.

  But what next? Would she start nagging them about changing their whole lives for her?

  It was she, after all, the one who broke into their lives.

  “Not willingly, though,” she said out loud, and she heard anger in her voice.

  The lump on her throat only got bigger. I’m not going to cry. They’re going to be all right. They promised.

  Her cell phone buzzed in the dark. Another notification. She wished she could have it like everyone else. Their perfect lives, without any worry in the world.

  It all seemed so easy for them.

  And here she was, a failed entrepreneur, worrying about the two gangsters that chose not to kill her. As if they did her a favor.

  “Well… they did.”

  She smiled. Her life was so dull, then she met them. How long was this going to last? Did she love them, really? How long could she stand this? How many more nights —or days— would she wave them goodbye, thinking that was it, that was the last moment she would ever see them?

  “Stop it, Jena.”

  That was enough. She would not worry anymore, it was a promise to herself. She had to do something, anything, to keep her mind busy.

  Her phone flashed again. Okay, that’s a good time waster. It will help.

  Not much was going on, her Timeline was flooded with memes and funny videos. She wasn’t in the mood for any of that, but well, what else was she going to do?

  “Twenty seven notifications.”

  She’d been so occupied she’d forgotten to check her social media.

  It was just the usual, a like here, a comment there, someone uploaded a picture—

  “Wait.”

  It was her, someone tagged her in a photo.

  She tapped on the message and there she was, smiling beside Mona at the Kebab restaurant, her men in the background, talking to each other at the table.

  “Found Jena do
wntown!” The caption read, “Long time no see, friend! I hope to see you again at your coffee house! The Happy Days.”

  Those three last words were blue. Her shop was also tagged. Jena made a page for it but could never get many people to like it.

  More than twenty people praised the picture, it had many more likes.

  Jena couldn’t smile. She was supposed to be hiding, after all.

  There’s no chance…

  She fucked up.

  No, there’s no chance the freaking mafia saw this.

  She quickly untagged herself and her shop, but it was too late. The picture had been online for ten hours now. She sighed, she had to call the guys. At least warn them about this.

  Their phone was off.

  “Don’t worry Jena, you’ll tell them when they get back.”

  She was talking to herself. Hearing her own voice amidst the absolute silence was the only thing keeping her sane.

  Someone knocked on the door upstairs so hard she thought it was a cop.

  Her whole body went stiff, she couldn’t move even if she tried to, like a deer in headlights, as if she had seen a monster and it was about to eat her.

  “Mills!” The man said, knocking on the door again, “Beast! Open up you bastards! I trusted you!”

  That voice. She could never forget it.

  Nice ass.

  She was dead for sure now.

  They found her.

  Chapter 25

  Mills

  “Stay down!” He whispered to Beast. The Latino guard stood on the doorway, looking around for his friend.

  “Where you at, bro?” The man said on the radio.

  “You had to knock him down, right?” Mills said, staring at Beast.

  The big man shrugged and cocked his gun.

  “Wait,” Mills said and grabbed the radio.

  “Shitting,” he spat, in the worst imitation of anyone’s voice he could ever imagine.

  “Oh,” the Latino said, “didn’t see you come in.”

  “Hm-hmm,” Mills replied, it was better than speaking again.

  “Having a hard time there I see,” he chuckled, “make sure you flush the toilet twice, we don’t want another accident.”

  The man turned into the building again, closing the door behind him.

  “Nice,” Beast said, “what happens when he sees there’s no one in the bathroom?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  They moved to the building as fast as they could. A small light bulb shone weakly above the door. The only other light beside the three lamp posts on the parking lot.

  Beast hit it with his gun and suddenly they were surrounded by darkness.

  Inside the building, they could hear the faint sounds of a TV sitcom playing, fake laughs and all.

  “These guys have no clue what’s coming.”

  “If they’re like Albert back there, we got it made.”

  Mills slowly opened the door to a small corridor that opened up to the the main warehouse’s area, the whole place was stacked with hundreds upon hundreds of mattresses of all sizes.

  “There’s one of them,” Beast said, pointing at a small room straight ahead, on the other edge of the building. A young man with a red scarf sat with his feet on a table, bored out of his mind, drinking coffee, watching TV.

  About sixteen screens lay behind him, CCTV. If he was smart he could have probably seen them coming from the very first moment they arrived.

  To the left, a small set of stairs going to three offices on the second floor. The rest of the warehouse was filled with racks holding boxes and plastic wrapped mattresses.

  “I don’t see the other two guys.”

  “I’ll take this one out.”

  Beast rushed ahead, hiding the noise his footsteps made. Mills hid behind a rack, he was going to check the next corridor.

  He needed to focus now, this was no time to hesitate.

  Up ahead, past a couple of racks, someone laughed. Through the shelves he could see a man staring at his cell phone, watching a video.

  Mills ducked and slowed to a crawl, waiting for him to move, if he could surprise him from behind it would be—

  “Hey, has anyone seen my boyfriend?” The Latino said loudly, about fifty feet to his left, the pale white light of the bathroom door shining down on Mills.

  “What the fuck?” He yelled, they stared at each other for a half a second before the man pulled up his rifle and pressed the trigger.

  It was just enough time for Mills to jump to the next corridor, the bullets missing him by half an inch, the sound of gunfire booming in the dark.

  “Someone’s here!” Latino guy yelled, and pressed the trigger again.

  Mills could feel the bullets hitting the thick mattresses on the other side of the corner he hid at.

  “Over here!” Another voice said, it was Cell Phone Guy, looking at him through the racks to his right.

  “Shit.”

  He was trapped.

  He opened fire at Cellphone and jumped to the next corridor.

  “One on the right, one in front of me.”

  “You wanna see your boyfriend alive you drop your weapon!”

  “Fuck you!” Latino said and another hail of bullets struck the boxes in front of him, “I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker!”

  Cellphone peeked through his right corner. Mills shot at him but he was too fast. The bullets hit the metal column in front of Cellphone, Mills almost got him and he knew it, the surprise made him fall down. Mills shot at him again, knowing full well he couldn’t hit him, but he needed him further away before he and the Latino guy pinned him down.

  The bullets hit a mattress on the next corridor, and it started bleeding cocaine.

  It was the perfect fucking plan, distributing dope in cheap mattresses. One in ten had drugs in it, maybe even one in a thousand, it didn’t matter, that shit sold for millions.

  He turned to the left, half expecting Latino to be waiting for him, but they were scared, they didn’t want to risk anything.

  That’s their weakness. They’re afraid of dying.

  That would lead them to their grave.

  The memory of Jena flashed brightly in his mind.

  He promised her he would be back. Now he wasn’t so sure he would be able to fulfill that promise.

  “Focus,” he said, and that was it. He could either run toward the enemy, or run away. Whatever he chose, he had to commit to it. Uncertainty would get him killed.

  His steps echoed under him, Latino would be the first to go, he would never give up.

  Where the hell is Beast?

  He passed the last rack, before reaching the edge of the building, Latino saw him and opened fire.

  Slow, pretty fucking slow.

  Mills dashed around the corner. This was it. He slid on the floor, just to see Latino turning around to see him, his eyes went wide and fearful.

  Latino pointed the gun at him but it was too late, the gun in Mills’ hand flashed once, twice, three times. His blood stained the white mattresses behind him. His hands went up, his face unbelieving. They got him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Latino pressed the trigger and the rifle went off, firing less than five bullets before the clicking noise of an empty magazine echoed in the dark.

  “You fucker!” Cellphone yelled, seeing his friend go down.

  Mills rolled to cover, expecting bullets to go through his body this time.

  “You stay right there!” A roaring voice said.

  Beast.

  “Hands up, motherfucker, don’t turn around!”

  Mills peeked through a gap and saw the towering man pointing his gun at Cellphone, who looked paler than death itself.

  “Do you know who this warehouse belongs to?” The man asked, his rifle still in his hands, his body stiff, looking at Mills, the question was addressed at him.

  “Drop your fucking gun down or you’re dead, last call.”

  “You killed Erick,” he said.


  He’s not going to surrender.

  “Last—”

  The man jumped forward, turning to Beast mid-air, his gun went off in the dark, its barrel flashing orange, announcing death.

  Mills couldn’t shoot him, it was too risky, he might hit Beast.

  But his friend was smart. A true professional. He fired his gun for the first time in the evening. Cellphone was down before he hit the floor.

  “Are you okay?” Beast yelled.

  “Yes,” Mills replied, “what about—”

  “Taken care of.”

  These men. Shit. These two men were loyal. It was a shame it had to end up like this.

  Tires screeched outside, a car roared alive and fled.

  “Guys? What happened?” A voice said on the radio.

  No answer.

  “Erick? Rob?”

  Beast and Mills looked at each other.

  “They’re gonna be here soon,” Mills said, stating the obvious. They let one of them go, the one at the guardhouse, he heard the commotion and fled.

  “Let’s finish this,” Beast said. Going outside.

  Chapter 26

  Jena

  “Oh God, oh God, Oh God.”

  Cold fear rushed through Jena’s veins.

  They didn’t know she was here. Couldn’t know.

  A glass broke upstairs.

  A second later, she could hear several footsteps right above her. They were inside the house.

  Two or three of them.

  She slowly stood up, the cold floor under her feet waking her to the fact that she would have to run away before they found the basement. This was her only chance. She grabbed her sneakers and rushed out.

  I have to warn them.

  “Beast?” A voice upstairs yelled, “I know you’ve been here motherfucker, where are you?”

  The freezing cold upstairs almost made her turn back, but she knew there was nowhere else to hide. She quickly put on her tennis shoes and broke out running to a small gathering of trees on the back of the house, she could go to the neighbors, maybe hide there.

  “Out there!” another man yelled, “hey, stop!”

  They found her.

  “Fuck,” the man on the window stared at her, raising his gun. She was as good as dead.

  An SUV drove past the house, a hundred feet away. If he shot her out here, he would alert everyone in the neighborhood.

  The thug waited for the vehicle to go by, turning to see it. That was it, her chance to flee.