The Evening Hunter [#3]

12-the Diary

Four nights without having a moment for myself. I never had a single second to close my eyes and just rest. Day in and out, operation after the other. 

Not like I ever complained about that, I could go even a month without a good fucking sleep, just as long as it involved my businesses. But the four days found us in Ireland, home, to be precise. The person I called brother had his ways messed up like he usually did, and I always cleaned his mess. 

The person who needed to die so I could stop cleaning his mess was the old man we called father. From how I saw it, he had days numbered, but as I said before, if I remember well, death feared that man.

I landed in New York, a place I would love to die in because no one in it reminded me of family. A place I had built a name.

Bruce arrived at whatever time before me, the car was ready for me. I slid into the back seat with the desire to just get done with one last thing for the day and go home. 

Elizabeth was in the car as well. She opened her mouth to speak but I lifted a hand, stopping her from reporting what I needed to be updated on. She never uttered a word, and I leaned on the back seat, my head resting, and I shut my eyes.

You'd be wrong if you thought I slept, but I never sleep with people around. I loved it when I would switch off from this world knowing I was alone in the room. 

Instead, I began plotting my moves now that I returned to New York. Businesses had to resume like normal. Though Bruce and Elizabeth kept updating me via emails, I still trusted what I saw and did it myself. I had a good number of emails they left, I could go through them within a good night in my isolated house. It's where I found peace and that would get my mind functioning well.

The car stopped, and I assumed we had arrived at Mafia territory. Just when Elizabeth cleared her throat to speak, I gripped the doorknob and opened the door. I stepped out and ambled towards the entrance to the mansion. 

I noticed a familiar car parked outside at a stupid angle, I knew he had arrived. He would have been dead if he had come late.

The mansion had one floor, it was just huge with many rooms here and there. Sometimes Father would come and spend two months, monitoring my work like a stupid detective. So he had a room in one of many rooms upstairs. The floor was private, provided it was also where I had a room.

There was an office on the ground floor and just like a normal house, a sitting area, kitchen, and whatever necessity that would make a complete house.

A peal of laughter emerged from my office as I walked to it. Logan Carter was the officer who helped me settle my matter with New York Police officers. He was my man, the secret eye in that department. He worked for me as a detective, so I always got information in hand straight from the police department. 

I pushed the door open and my eyes met Logan busy checking out one of my maid ass. The maid had been bending over as she served Logan a drink, she immediately stood up straight, holding a bottle of whiskey with her fearful eyes on me.