Alek

Chapter 2: Alek Russo

Chapter 2: Alek Russo

-A week later-

I've been in New York for exactly one week, one day, five hours and thirty-seven seconds.

And I'm going fucking insane.

Three years ago, in these very streets, my brother was shot dead at the hands of Mae Kazimi, the daughter of Denez Kazimi, the leader of the biggest American mafia right here in New York.

Why did he and his wife abandon her as a child?

No idea.

Do I care?

Hell yeah.

If there's one thing I've learned while growing up in a mafia is that sometimes, even the most personal secrets can save you. And I want to learn all of her secrets so when it's time to drive a knife into her gut, my words will make it hurt more.

These past few days, I've been sitting in Sammy's Bar and wasting time. It's almost twenty minutes away from home, the large mansion that has been passed through my father's family for many generations, and the very house I've been avoiding for the past week.

When you want someone to notice you, especially when you're Alek Russo, the heir to the Italian mafia, you go to a bar more than once. You see, it sparks attention. Attention you don't usually want when you work in the mafia.

And I know, for a fact, this will catch Mae's attention.

I know I'm right the moment I walk into Sammy's bar tonight. As I slip through the wide doors of the open bar, my men take their place outside. I have gotten used to ignoring their presence but it doesn't make it any less annoying.

Through the river of moving bodies and sweaty skin on the dance floor, my eyes fall upon a girl sitting in the corner of a booth. She picks up a shot glass, tips her head back and drowns the contents of the cup. One moment it's there, the next second it's not.

For a moment, I simply just let myself relish the fact that my plan has worked. And then, I'm making my way through the maze of dancing bodies, trying to hide my grimace as an older-looking woman winks in my direction. I'm surprised she can even see my face with the hood of my sweater so low on my face.

"Alek," a voice purs as I settle down onto the booth beside my enemy. "It's been a while."

I let my hood fall off my face and wave to the bartender, Sammy, an old friend who runs the bar. He notices my tense look and I watch as he sneakily pours me water instead of alcohol.

I silently thank him in my head.

"How are your parents?" I ask, purposely turning my dark eyes to meet her brown ones. In the flashing lights of the bar, it's hard to read her face. But if there is one thing I can tell, then it's that she's grown older. Her face is harsher and her eyes are sharper. Her brown skin is flushed from the heat, but the intense look in her eyes almost makes me frown.

She leans back against the wall, legs crossed casually one over another. Her straight black hair is cut short above her shoulders and it bobs as she turns her head to me, "That was mean."

I open my mouth and close it. That's mean? That's it?

"What do you want, Kazimi."

She shrugs, eyes not leaving mine, "Depends on what you want. What are you doing here?"

"The rumours must have reached your ears by now," I send her a slow and deliberate smirk. "The Russo's are back in town to expand the business. But I wouldn't expect you to know much about that, of course. You don't deal with these kinds of things, do you now?"

Mae raises an eyebrow and her mouth twitches. The only sign of annoyance. "You talk a lot for an Italian mafia heir. Where's daddy? Running the mafia and the business? What good are you for?"

That was a low blow and I hardly manage to hide my curling fists beneath the counter. It's true, my father seems to prefer my half-brother over me, but I doubt anyone outside our family knows this little secret. Father has seemed to have forgotten my mother already. Her death is simply a vague memory at the back of his mind. But me? Hell no. I have not forgotten. Her death was my fault. My birth led her down the slow and painful path and if I had simply just not existed, she might have been alive today.

I bring the glass cup to my lips and take a swig of the water, slowly and deliberately. I can't have her know I'm seconds away from ripping her head from her body, now can I?

That would be too....mean.

"You seem in a great cheery mood today, Kazimi. Anything you want to share?"

She lets out a loud sigh, "You see, the thing is, I'm bored. I'm bored, you're bored...."

"You want to fuck?" I raise my eyebrows.

Mae pauses as if she is truly thinking about it before bursting out into a sudden fit of laughter, "And you're funny? Wow, where have you been these past three years?"

"In Italy," I deadpan.

"Right, forgot," she says with a bright smile. "But you're here now, aren't you? What's better then-"

"Alek," it's Sammy, the owner of the bar. And he looks horrified. "Alek, you need to leave."

This time, I frown, but I remain seated, "What's wrong?"

"Listen to me," Sammy says in a rushed voice. "There's someone here, I'm not sure who it is, but they're here and they aren't supposed to be here-"

"Sammy, slow down-"

"Alek!" Sammy says desperately, his orange hair glinting brightly under the light and his pale face slicked with sweat. "You need to-"

Before he finishes his sentence, I am pulled back with a sudden force that makes me lose my balance and topples me backwards and off my stool. I roll reflexively as something flashes in my sight.

And then....there's a loud BANG.

For a second, I can't see anything. People are screaming, smoke is filling my lungs and my eyes....it's all black.

Did I just go fucking blind?

There's a loud 'oomf' and a hand slides off my face. I snap my eyes open and the first thing I see is blood dripping down from the countertop and Sammy's head slit open, his brains exploding all over the walls and the stools of the booth. It takes every ounce of training and power to keep myself from throwing up as the intense smell of blood and smoke fills my nose. I look away and catch Mae looking down at me, eyes wide as something orange and bright....fire? When did the bar catch on fire?

"What-"

"You need to get out of here!" Mae yells over the screams and shouts of pain and surprise. "You've made it to someone's hit list!"

I can hardly hear what she's saying. I'm too stunned to move, and a slap from Mae snaps me out of my dream-like state.

"Did you just fucking slap me?" I shout, shoving her off of me and getting to my feet. "Don't you dare touch me again, sei disgustoso americano! (you disgusting American!)"

Before she can reply, I'm already up and moving. I'm so angry, I can see red in my vision and I'm gritting my teeth so tightly, I'm sure they will break off soon enough. I fight through the screaming crowd, shoving people aside as I make for the back door.

But a scary realization makes me freeze as my fingertips brush the handle of the back door, and my stomach gives a vicious churn.

Someone wants me dead.

And they want me dead very, very, badly.

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