Blade

Chapter 3: Tainted heart and soul

Blade

Never underestimate the enemy.

That’s the one rule my father made me memorize.

You might think you’ve got the advantage, but you have no idea what’s crawling under their skin or ticking in their mind at that exact, deadly moment.

Once you put your guard down, that's when they strike. It's venomous and it always leaves a taunting scar.

When you're in the presence of one, you don't act on impulse or make any rash decisions. Instead, you take your time to observe and figure out the game they're trying to play.

It's always fun to beat them at their own game but it's one thing to be smart and another thing to be wise.

Never underestimate the enemy.

Across the table from me sits Emilio. The South American kingpin. He's a cunning old man and is known for his sexual escapades with young girls. And of course the stupid old man has a wife who by the way is a damn whore.

I almost shudder in disgust at that thought.

"I don't joke with my business, Blade. Whatever you want to say, it's best you say it now before I lose my patience." He glances around the private lounge we're presently in and fidgets in his seat. The loud blaring music and the boisterous noise from the drunken crowd in the club adds to the intensity that's slowly seeping into the air.

My eyes narrow as I circle the edge of my wine glass with a fingertip. "Feigning ignorance is dangerous, Emilio. Don’t make it harder than it already is."

He balls his hands into tight fist and takes a sip of his beer to relieve some of the tension coursing through his veins. "It's just twenty million, Blade. I could easily come up with such amount in a week."

Fucking bastard. The last time I asked him about the money, he swore it would be ready in a month. Three weeks have passed. Three fucking weeks.

I still don’t know what made me lend him the damn money. Maybe it’s that his factory produces the best guns in the business, the kind essential to my line of work. He’s been supplying the Armani empire for years without a single mistake. That kind of reliability isn’t something I can afford to lose, but the old man keeps making things unnecessarily difficult.

I don’t care about the money, never have. The only things tying me to him are the weapons he provides and the alliance he built with my father years ago. "So, what did you invest it in?

A slow smile tugs at his lips as he fishes a cigarette from the pack on the table. He lights it, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke curl around his words. "I just opened a new casino here in Italy. Blade, business is thriving. Things are looking up for me, but don’t worry, your money will be ready before the month’s out."

Another damn promise that's just going to end up in the freaking mud.

"I hope so," is all I can mutter as I rise to my feet and proceed to get the hell out of this bastard's club.

1... 2… 3… I yank my gun from my waistband, spin, and fire. The old man’s shoulder explodes under the impact before he can squeeze the trigger.

"Never in your fucking life try to pull that shit on me." I grind out as he grips his bloody shoulders, face twisting in pain and fear. "You seem to be forgetting who you're dealing with, old man. I may have let you off the hook right now with a warning but the next time you try that shit, I won't hesitate to put a bullet through your damn skull."