Leroy Kingston.
He is dangerous. He is ruthless and he craves revenge.
As a mafia boss, he's used to simply taking lives out without even blinking. Why didn't it work with Katrina? Was it the fear in those sky-blue eyes that made him start thinkin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Where am I?
Blinking, I open my eyelids, but they close again immediately. God, I'm tired! What is it?
"Don't move," a dark voice whispers, making me stop dead in my tracks. Is that Leroy? "Otherwise the stitches can open again."
The stitches?
With difficulty, I finally manage to open my eyes and look straight into Leroy's face.
"Where am I?", I croak in a whisper. He understands immediately and hands me a glass of water, from which I drink greedily, yet carefully.
He puts a hand on the back of my head and advises me not to lift my head otherwise, because the effort would immediately shoot into my stomach. And then it all comes back to me.
God, I've been shot!
"Am I going to die?", I ask straightforwardly as soon as he puts the glass down again and sits down on the bed at my hip. My voice trembles.
"No, you're not going to die. The bullet is out and the wound is very well taken care of. The doctor said that you're out of the danger of dying now, but I recommend from my own experience that you don't move too much because all of a sudden you can still be in danger of dying again if the stitches open or if the wound becomes infected." Leroy points his finger at a first-aid kit. "That's why I'm going to change your bandages regularly."
His last words sound like a command in my ears, probably because he already suspects that I don't agree.
"Yang could do that, too," I whisper, letting my eyes wander shyly. So we're in the bedroom.
"Yang lacks experience, though." And with that, the subject is seemingly dead in the water for him, as he slowly stands up before walking slowly around with his arms folded in front of his chest.
"So who were those people?", I ask instead, also leaving the subject alone for now, but I will come back to it. Leroy shakes his head without looking at me.
"A gang full of little brats," he replies, gritting his teeth as he walks to the window. "Who had more in their pants than I thought. They're little boys who wanted to get into my territory and I didn't allow them because some of them were too young for me and they really should still think hard about whether they want to put their lives in the hands of the Mafia until they've breathed their last. And the others were untrained and grinned too much for me. But I never thought that they would have such big balls and dare to attack me in my house. Well, those balls have been chopped off by now."
His brow furrows deeply and when he gives me a look I recognize the guilt in it, but he averts his gaze just as quickly, so I'm not at all sure.
God, maybe I'm not seeing, right? As if Leroy would ever feel guilty!
