Dark and Dangerous Desires

Chapter 7: No Rest For The Wicked

Abby's alarm began to ring through her bedroom. She woke up seeing Killian was gone. She went and showered their activities off of her body. She wiped the steam covered mirror and looked over her body in disbelief. "That asshole." she muttered as she ran her fingers across every hickey and small bruise from him nipping and sucking at her skin. In all her twenty-three years she never sported a mark like these. She went into her bedroom to find her phone. She unlocked it and clicked on Killian's name and began composing a message. "WTF!?" is all she said. He replied with a simple question mark. Is he freaking joking she thought to herself. "These marks all over my body." she replied. Annoyance and anger struck through her. She hit the call button but was met with his voicemail. She goes back to the mirror and looks over every mark again.

"Shit." she mumbled to herself. She dialed her supervisor's number and started rehearsing her excuse in her mind. When the angry old lady answered, Abby put on her best sick voice.

"Hi, Barb. I won't be able to make it in today." she groaned out, putting on the best act she had.

"Why?" the bitter old lady snapped.

"I think I caught a bug. I'll call you as soon as I am feeling better. I think I'd better put sick leave in for a few days." she said.

"Do you understand the inconvenience you're causing this hospital and its staff?" Barb said rudely.

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry." Abby croaked out trying to pull her best acting skills out.

"Whatever. See you in a few days." Barb retorted, before she hung up abruptly.

Abby dressed herself and decided to get some studying done for upcoming tests she had.

Killian's POV

I'm on a stakeout with some of my men, when the buzz on my phone pulls my attention away from the scope on my rifle. We've had some tampered inventory lately, and all the intel on who was behind it, led us to a small crime family that is attempting to come up and that is trying to establish a base in my territory. I see a text message on the screen from Abby. I clicked it open and didn't understand its context. I sent a question mark back before focusing my gaze out the scope again. Her reply quickly comes through. A smirk painted my lips for a moment before Justin nudged my side. I shut off my phone and place it in my pocket to focus on the task at hand. I see one of the brothers who runs this small-time crime syndicate. I settle the center of my crosshairs between his eyes, taking a deep breath as I pull the trigger. The silencer on my rifle muffles the ringing that the gun would usually bring. I watch waiting for the bullet whizzing through the air to make contact with its target. It only takes a couple of seconds, but time things play in slow motion with the anticipation building up. I watch as he drops. Men flood over to him from every angle of the room. Justin and Donnie begin to pull their triggers in an attempt to get more of these fuckers that have been taking our s**t. I shoot again after getting my crosshairs in check again. I notice some men running out of the warehouse to seek refuge. I listen in my earpiece as I hear some of my other men are already on the chase to get the stragglers. Justin, Donnie, and myself make our way down the rooftop. We make our way to the old warehouse, we enter with our handguns drawn. We go through every room trying to find anyone who's still breathing in her. There isn't anyone we can find until we reach the makeshift office that is littered with the bodies we just took down from the rooftop. I found the man I shot down first, brains and blood scattered the floor around him. I reach into his pocket to retrieve its contents. As I reach out a voice yells to me. "Don't f*****g touch him!" the boy exclaimed! He had to have been in his early teens. His hands were shaky as he held a pistol in his grip. He held an unsteady aim on me. I let out a sinister chuckle.

'Well, what do we have here?" I say lowly as I walk closer to him. Justin and Donnie maintained their positions with their guns drawn on the boy. I take every step closer. I'm absolutely positive that I won't be his first kill.

"Who are you?" I question as I near him.

"f**k you." he spat out.

"How'd you get here?" I ask while I continue closing the distance. His steps stagger as he tries backing away from me.

"My father." he said shakily.

"Which one is he? Excuse my lacking knowledge of your family tree." I say. There is maybe ten feet between us now. He tripped over the body of a dead man, he fell landing on his ass. The hold of his gun is lost, and he uses his hands to shuffle away from me. When his back hits the wall he winces in fear. He turns tear filled eyes to me. Whoever this boy is, I know he is innocent. For now anyways, I don't steal lives of the innocent.

"Which one, kid?" I ask in a commanding tone. His shaky hand pointed to Sean Merrit. The first man I shot. One of the leaders of this pathetic group.

"Where is your uncle?" I ask.

"I'm not telling you anything!" he yelled out. The boy has guts and nerve.

"Do you know who I am?" I ask. He shakes his head slightly.

"Killian Haswell. You are sure to tell your uncle to keep out of my territory and to leave what belongs to me alone. You should do the same, kid." I say lowly.

I turn and walk back to the boy's dead father. I grab his phone from his pocket and unlock it with his thumb before I stand. I skim through its contents before passing it to Justin. Get all the information off of this. I take my knife from my pocket and remove the skin from his thumb to have access to the phone when we get to our warehouse. I look at the boy again, a few tears stream from his eyes as he stares blankly at me. I offer an apologetic look before we turn and leave the scared boy on his own to figure out his situation alone. When we reach the armored SUVs we place our rifles in the back before heading to our warehouse to transfer the data from the cell phone I swiped off Sean's cooling corpse. I have no doubt that at some point in the future his son will pose a threat to me, but that day isn't now. I'll handle it when that time comes. There is nothing in the world that would make me harm a child. If he understood this lifestyle, he'd know it is a fair, is fair life. A kill or be killed world. You don't mess with what belongs to another man unless you're ready to paint a target on your back. If I'd known about the boy, I would've considered sparing his father. I was dealt with the unfortunate fate of losing my father when I was thirteen, my brother was almost lost too. It changed all of us, some would say in the worst way possible too. My brother was twelve at the time. He lost his leg from the knee down, due to the bomb that was planted, the burns that covered the lower portion of his leg got infected, beginning to spread through his blood. They removed it while he was in an induced coma. His ribs shattered, lungs punctured, he was drowning in his own blood. The doctors didn't expect him to live through that seventeen years ago. It wasn't easy for him to get through, he was wheelchair bound for a while. He had to learn to walk with a prosthetic. He was witness to our father's death and he almost died too. I think he suffers the most from that fateful day. He was forced to bear witness to the life draining from our father, as his life too was draining from him. He didn't have the chance to help, escape, or even to call for aid. Michael is a good man, but those demons from that day haunt him. Our mother took over as the Don until my eighteenth birthday. The lifestyle turned her hard. She was always the best mother she could be, but now she is a force to be reckoned with. She saved the men who killed our father for Michael and I to hunt down. On my eighteenth birthday when I took over, I did just that. I hunted down every last one of the scum responsible in the plan of my father's demise. I held them in our lock up until the last one was caught. I allowed my brother the control and decision of how we were going to make them suffer. My brother who hadn't taken a life yet shocked me with his horrific plan of what he wanted to do.

We set the men in pairs fighting to the death. Little did they know winning wouldn't land them into freedom for victory. No, every winner who killed his 'brother' in crime had to fight us. By the time the last man took a ragged breath, we were coated in blood. Some of it was our own. Both of our black hair shone red. Blood dripped from our faces. The floors were flooded with the blood of thirty-six men. It was a battle, a war we could finally lay to rest. Michael wore a sinister smile when he examined the room and all the spilled blood it contained. I knew he needed it to move past the death of our father. I didn't realize the darkness it would unlock in the both of us. It created a craving inside of us. We craved to deliver death by our hands, to rain down pain on enemies who dared to cross us. Anyone who knows what we really do is cautious to stay on our good side. We don't kill without reason, but we will kill to get even or to make an example for men that want to f**k around in our business. An eye for an eye. It's true what they say, there is no rest for the wicked. Unless someone is brought up in this lifestyle, they can't grasp any portion of what we do. Sometimes we don't understand it, but the only way out is death. Even for the leaders. The mafia is in our blood. It courses through every fiber of our being. I wouldn't live my life in any other way.

When we reached the warehouse I turned my phone on. I smirked at the string of messages from Abby. Her colorful language made me chuckle. "Sorry, I was working." I type on the screen. She immediately replies "Oh, to pay both our bills, SINCE I CAN'T GO INTO WORK COVERED IN HICKIES!" her message read. "Someone's stuck inside?" I type out. I didn't realize the smirk across my face until Justin spoke up.

"Aye, boss. What has you buried in your phone like a schoolgirl?" He laughs out.

"f**k off, tosser." I retorted.

"Aye, boys. Come take a peek. Boss, is reliving his sissy days." Justin snickered out.

"Choke on it." I sneered in annoyance.

"Get me the information on that phone." I command.

"Right on, it. Just f*****g with you, boss. I'm actually glad it's been a while since you seemed happy." he said genuinely.

We headed into the office, we connected the phone to the computer and downloaded its contents. We're interrupted by Michael storming into the office.

"What the f**k?" His voice roars out. A hard punch lands on my face.

"The f**k is the matter with you?" I yell out as I catch my balance. Michael doesn't say anything, but he swings again. I block his hit and send my own fist flying. We deliver punches back and forth. Bumping into things all around us. Papers, files, everything is beginning to scatter the floor, littering it. He connected his fist to my nose, blood was pooling out, before I finally got him pinned down.

"What the bloody hell is the matter with you?" I roared into his face while mine is just mere inches away.

"You're a piece of f*****g scum!" he said while spitting in my face.

"What are you f*****g talking about?" I yell. Michael struggles against my hold but I lay more of my weight on him.

"You left that boy alone without a f*****g father. You don't f*****g do that!" he yelled.

"I didn't f*****g know. We couldn't see any damn kid." I yell. He frees one of his arms and pushes me off of him. I pick myself up off the floor and offer a hand to help him up.

"None of us knew, Mikey. The boy was spared." Justin offered.

"That makes it better I suppose." Michael scoffed.

He stayed looking at my hand for a moment before pushing it away. He stood up, brushing his clothes off and fixing his disheveled hair before walking out. I should've known how he'd react when he found out.

"Did you find anything?" I ask Justin.

"Just a few possible main base locations." He shrugs.

"You want to look into them?" he asked.

"Let's see if they take the hint first." I say.

I wonder who told Michael about the boy. I usually keep him away from the darkest parts of the business. He can handle his own and he is more than able to handle the worst parts of the mafia life. When he goes dark, he goes dark. It's hard to pull him out of who he becomes when he gets involved in the other side of business. He's not the best with the legal side of things with his short temper but he makes do.

"Find out who told Michael." I tell Justin before leaving the office.

Michael's POV

Anger filled my entire being when I heard Killian killed a boy's father. He knew what we went through, what I went through. We vowed to do away with killings like that. After our fight at the warehouse, I left to the kill site to try finding the boy. When I arrive I have to step over bodies. I hear shuffling behind a door. I draw my gun and slowly stalk over there. I'm careful to not slip on the blood that hasn't had time to dry. I inch my way closer to the door. I turn the handle slowly and a gun goes off hitting the bottom of the door, leaving an exit hole the size of a baseball there. I swing the door open and am met with a terrified boy.

"Let me help you, son." I say slowly as I tuck my gun into the back of the waistband on my pants. Scared eyes meet my own. He must not see me as a threat because he puts the gun down.

"What's your name?" I ask lightly.

"Cole." he sniffed.

"Okay, Cole. How old are you?" I inquire.

"Eleven." He answered softly. For f**k sake, Killian. Rage fills my head once more. An annoyed huff left my chest, I pushed my feelings to the side, trying to keep my head level.

"Can you get up? Are you hurt anywhere?" I ask. I can see blood on his hands and face. It could very well not be his own, outside of this cleaner's closet is a blood bath. His head shook slightly.

"I can get up." he said.

"Okay, I'm going to help you." I extend my hand to help him stand.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Name's Michael." I say. I don't offer anymore of my name. I'm sure if he hears my last name he won't take help, but I'm not going to leave him on his own to figure out the situation he never should have been brought into.

"Let's get you cleaned up and fed. When did you eat last?" I asked. I was expecting him to say this morning before I noticed he was awfully skinny. His cheeks looked hollowed out, I could see every bone sticking out from every part of his arms.

"Two days ago." He said.

"What?" I asked in confusion. I don't understand how he's gone two days without food. He's been here with his father and other men, someone had to notice a hungry and frail boy.

"Two days." he repeated himself.

"No, son, why haven't you eaten in two days? Why didn't anyone feed you?" I asked, I am sure anger is dripping through my voice, but it's not meant for him. He is the heir to this lifestyle his father and uncle created. It's beyond me why he isn't getting treated as such.

"I got in trouble, sir." he said lightly. I took a deep breath trying to calm myself, every blood vessel in my body began to feel hot as anger resumed its course through me. I don't want to scare him anymore than he already is. I take a minute cursing these men in my head before returning my focus to him.

"Let's get you out of here." I say lightly, offering a small smile. I open the door up. I'm caught off guard when he grabs my hand, clenching it tightly into his own. I glance down at him. I see all the fear I used to carry, but our fear is carried in different ways. He's scared because the people who were supposed to take care of him and protect him failed him. He's scared because of the scene he was forced to witness. I was scared to continue without my father. He was my best friend. I was scared because parts of me were missing emotionally and physically. I know I can't keep this boy. He'll need to go back to where he belongs. I only hope that his treatment will improve. I'll keep an eye on it from a distance.

We got to my car and he finally was willing to release the grip his hand held on mine. I take us to my place. I sent Drew, my gatekeeper to buy some clothes and shoes for the boy. He was basically wrapped in rags. His clothes and shoes sported holes and tears. I showed him to the guest bathroom and left him to wash up. Drew returned with a few bags. I left them in the room I put him in. I go to the kitchen and begin looking through my cabinets and fridge for food. Most everything here is expired or growing something like a science fair project. I head back to the room and knock, I hear a soft "Yeah." I open the door. He's dressed in fresh clothes and is putting on the new pair of shoes.

"What do you want to eat?" I ask. His eyes widened like he was stunned.

"I'm fine with anything." he stuttered out.

"You like pancakes? I think that is what Americans call them." I say.

"Never had them, sir." Cole said lightly.

"We'll get some then." I say, I tried to be as friendly as possible in my voice. I don't think this boy has ever been shown love or kindness. He followed me out to the car. The drive to the diner was silent. When we pulled into the almost vacant parking lot, I was thankful to see Maggie still had the neon OPEN sign lit up. It was a slow establishment. I wondered for a long time how she managed to stay open. I come in every morning for breakfast, always sure to tip her well. We exit the car and enter the diner, a bell chimes as the door opens. Maggie peeked out from the kitchen and a smile formed on her face. She waddled over to us as we sat down at a corner table.

"Michael." She said sweetly, while giving a squeeze to my forearm. Her eyes scanned over to Cole.

"I see you've brought a friend." she said sweetly to Cole. A slight smile formed across his mouth.

"Hi." Cole said in a shy whisper.

"Oh, come on, sugar. I don't bite." she offered.

"Maggie, Cole here has never had hotcakes. Think you can whip up a stack?" I asked sweetly.

"Of course, sugar!" she said happily.

"You want your usual?" she asked me.

"I'll take a stack too and a plate of sausages and bacon for us too, please." I answer. She doesn't waste a minute and heads over to the kitchen. She prepares my orders herself. I've been coming here almost every day for the last twelve years. I'm always met with her happy face. She's the elderly lady who just wants to be everyone's granny.

"You know him, don't you?" Cole asked me.

"Who?" I ask.

"The man who killed my dad and the other men. You look and sound like him." he said. I take a deep breath and let it go before I answer him.

"I do. He's my brother." I say.

"Are you bad like him?" he asked, his eyes showing some fear.

"I'm sure some people think so." I answer honestly. He takes my words into consideration.

"I won't hurt you, Cole. I will help you get back home." I told him. He doesn't say anything. We sit quietly waiting for Maggie to finish preparing our food. Soon enough she comes out with a tray of steaming hotcakes, sausage, and bacon. She set everything down.

"Can I get anything else for you boys?" she asked sweetly.

"Can we get some drinks? Maggie makes the best milkshakes in all of New York." I said to Cole.

"Can I have a vanilla one?" he asked me nervously.

"Of course. Can I get some coffee?" Maggie nods to our requests and sets off again. I've never seen someone who takes such good care of their customers. We are quiet throughout our meal. When we finished, I paid Maggie and left her a five-hundred-dollar tip. She hugged me before we set off. We reached my house and Cole went to the guest bedroom I set him up in. I go into my office and get some work done, before heading off to bed myself.