Entangled With The Mafia

Chapter 20: Gunshot

Devon

Devon slams his phone on the coffee table. He hears a c***k, but it's satisfying. It's five in the morning, and Amelia hasn't given him any news. Either she hasn't found anything and is determined to leave the city, or she's dead.

She can't be f*****g dead.

He starts pacing around his living room, staring at the cracked screen and hoping it will light up with a notification. A text, a missed call, anything. His glass is empty, and he moves to the cabinet in the corner of his living room to refill it with whiskey. He then decides to ditch the glass. He'll drink straight from the bottle instead.

He was counting on her to finish the job, and he still is. She's his best chance at getting the information he needs. The employer's paying a lot of money for that name. They'll get even more money once they get the name, and Devon will get the promotion he's had his eye on for three years. There's a lot at stake, and she can't f**k it up.

It's not just the name, though. He is worried about her. Sam was right; he is an asshole for sending her to a den of wolves. And sure, he misguided her, alright. He gave Matthew, or, well, Jason, all the instructions on how to get her to infiltrate the gang and get all the information needed without making it seem like he was the one giving all the orders, but the fucker went and got himself killed. Now, Devon had a massive problem on his hands.

How will he tell her that she needs to seduce one of the Kellers?

An outsider wouldn't do. Not another employee, nor a button guy. It'd have to be one of the big three. Damien, Ethan, or Theo. He knows Theo has a history with both men and women, but Amelia told him Theo didn't like her. In his opinion, that could easily be a crush. Don't kindergartners act the same way?

But he didn't have the balls to tell her something like that. He knew that night, when she showed up with that scandalous red dress, that some s**t went down. And it was evident that she didn't like it. She was holding back her f*****g tears, and he had to admit, something within him was hammering against his chest and conscience. He thought he had buried his heart long ago, but it was f*****g beating relentlessly. He imagined some d**k's hands on her, and he felt the urge to punch something.

He felt like a prick, he still does. He's known her for the best part of his life. She was just a kid when he left. He bought her a doll when she turned eight. He was at all her birthday parties. He tutored her sometimes. She was a good kid, and she still is. Well, good, not a kid. Aaron was his pal back in the day, but now, if Aaron ever found out he involved her in all this...

He takes a swig straight from the bottle to wash it all down. Being worried about Amelia is more than enough. He doesn't need to add Aaron to the mix. Besides, he'll never find out, not all the way in prison. And if he ever does, which is unlikely, he'll deal with it at another time. He just gave her a better job. He helped her out. There's no proof that Amelia is working as a spy. It isn't written anywhere. And Aaron will never know that she's with the Kellers. How will he know?

He hears his bedroom door open. Upon seeing him, Antonia crosses her arms. He ignores her and keeps watching the phone. She sighs, "When do you plan on coming to bed?"

"Just f**k off, Antonia. I'm busy right now." He doesn't understand why she keeps pestering him. She does this every hour, and he gives her the same response. He doesn't even know why she's here. They normally have dinner, f**k, and she goes back to her apartment across the city. He doesn't know why it's different tonight. She just invited herself. It's fairly annoying.

"You've been saying that the whole night!" She stomps her foot and pouts. He glares at her and reaches into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. Has her voice always been this pitchy? He had never noticed it before. That's exactly why women should never f*****g stay the night.

"And I'll keep saying it." He picks up the phone and swipes his finger across the screen. Nothing. Dammit, Amelia, where the hell are you?

Antonia sighs again, and Devon grips the phone tighter. She's being a b***h, and he's not in the mood. He looks over to where she is standing, but she's gone. He sits back on the sofa, still clutching the phone. He contemplates calling her, but that's too risky. What if she's in a compromising situation?

What if she's dead? Then it won't really matter, will it?

He shuts these negative thoughts out. He closes his eyes, the bottle in one hand and the phone in the other. Suddenly, someone takes the bottle from him. He cracks an eye open and sees Antonia hovering above him, wearing the red, lacy bra and panties she was wearing earlier. She takes his phone and places it on the table. He lets her. She straddles his lap and takes his bottom lip between her teeth.

She grinds against him agonizingly slowly, tugging at his raven-black hair. She releases his lip and asks, "Do I have your attention now?"

He stares at the swell of her breasts. She knows how to get him hard; that's why he always kept her around. He met her two months ago. She wanted a job, as they always do. He's never slept with the same woman twice, but Antonia is the exception. There's something unmistakably captivating about her, from her dark tresses to her warm brown eyes, even though she can be whiny and galling.

He cups her ass, and she kisses him deeply. She was being annoying at first, but now he's thankful for the distraction. He wants nothing more than to bury himself and all his problems deep inside her tight, wet cunt. He feels something cold against his neck, and he looks down. She breaks their kiss. She's holding a gun to his neck. It takes him a moment to register what he's actually seeing.

"What the f**k?"

"Now I've really got your attention, huh?" She smirks and digs the gun deeper into his neck, just for the fun of it.

"What the f**k are you doing?" If this is some kind of game, she's really going to regret it. No one shoves a gun in his face.

"Surprised? You shouldn't be. You're a d**k, Devon, and everyone wants you dead." She shakes her head. "Did you really think you'd get away with it?"

"With what?" He's thinking of all the ways he can disarm her, but the gun's close to his neck. One wrong move, and she'll pull the trigger by accident, the f*****g b***h. She's too damn close.

"f*****g with the Kellers." That gets his attention. It only takes him seconds to figure everything out. Staying the night, wanting to get him in the bedroom. She was already being weird the past couple of days. He should've paid more attention. f**k.

"How much are they paying you to do this?"

"They offered me a hundred grand. Some guy approached me a couple of days ago. They know everything about you, Devon. They know you sent those men." He thinks of Amelia, and his chest burns. No, they couldn't know about her, so maybe she's still safe. But why wouldn't she answer the phone? "Of course, I agreed. I'd do it for ten."

He manages to smile. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy my company, Antonia."

"You're right. I did. But it's over now." She gets off his lap and stands over him. He can't believe that after everything he's been through, he'll die at the hands of some b***h he banged for a couple of months, bleed to death on his pristine white sofa. It just doesn't seem real.

He puts his hands up. He has to find a way of distracting her. "Can we talk—" He jumps up, and she stumbles back and fires. He falls to the floor with a heavy thud. She pokes him with her big toe, and he doesn't move. She sees blood—his blood—staining the carpet. She lowers the gun. It's a good thing she invested in a silencer. She rolls him over and sees blood staining his shirt right in the gut. His eyes are closed, and he isn't breathing.

She needs to get out fast.

She checks the time on her phone. It's twenty minutes to six, too late. She should've done the job much earlier, but Devon never fell asleep. She figured it would be easier if she shot him in his sleep, but her plan B worked, too. She packs all her belongings and leaves his apartment. She switches off all the lights, too. The porter is asleep downstairs, so that's a bonus. She gets into her car and speeds away and sends a quick text to the man who paid her. It's done, is all she types.

As Antonia drives away, Sam Henry parks in her spot. He knows Devon will be up at six, and he has to discuss the matter of the Kellers away from the office. They're planning on calling the entire mission off. It's costing them way too much money, and it's been a year already. He wants to know if the girl came close to finding the name. He has to give them an answer by ten in the morning.

He slams his fist against the front desk, and the porter jumps from his seat. He fixes his tie and asks, "How can I help you, sir?"

"Tyler, number 218."

He calls, but no one answers. Sam glances at his watch. "What? Did he leave already?"

The porter shakes his head and rubs his sleepy eyes. "No, sir. He didn't leave yet."

Sam glowers. "And how the f**k would you know that?"

He uses the elevator. Despite the porter's protests, he has to see Devon now. They'll have to call the mission off. There's no other way.

He gets to 218 and rings the doorbell. He takes his phone and calls. There's no answer. He runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he had already left, and that idiotic porter didn't even see him. He looks around and pounds on the door. "Open up, Tyler. It's Sam."

He doesn't know why, but he grabs the handle and turns it. The door opens with a creak. What kind of i***t leaves the door open? He enters, and it doesn't take him long to see Devon lying on the ground with a red patch of blood on the floor beneath him.

He startles and reaches into his pocket for his phone. Victoria, his secretary, picks up in a second. "Yes, Mr. Henry?"

"Call the emergency number. Send them here to Devon's apartment. He's been shot."