Pink Walls

Day Three [Part III]✓

"The Carmosino family can only have so many hunting dogs,"

There was only one difference between a Carmosinos' hunting dog and a regular hitman: they didn't disobey.

If their master asked them to be a shield, they would. If they were asked to take their own life, they would hold a gun to their temple and go out smiling.

But of course, no one would be stupid enough to tell such an obedient employee to kill themselves, not after all the effort and money used to train them.

They started off as misunderstood children with nowhere to go—homeless orphans usually—who were recruited then groomed year after year to be ruthless and unfeeling until they cared about nothing but the family they served.

They weren't brainwashed, just well-behaved, loyal to a fault and grateful for another lease on life. After all, only a handful of them survived the training process in the first place.

I always wondered what would have happened if the Carmosinos had gotten to me before Frank had. Would I have eyes as cold as the unfeeling ones staring back at me right now? Would I kill without caring even a little bit?

"Is there a problem, Sir?" the woman asked, her smile falling at the edges. It was a fake one, but it was passable.

I shook my head and turned to the door.

The dogs followed orders. If they had been asked to kill me, they would be quick about it. The fact that I was still alive meant that there wasn't a target on my head, yet. And there was still a chance that they didn't even know that the person I had been with was Daniel.

So…

I felt the cool metal of a pistol's barrel press against the back of my head the moment my hand landed on the door's handle. Where she had gotten it from, I wasn't able to guess.

I let the tension leave my shoulders and raised my hands. "What do you want?"

With my eyes fixed on the spot in front of me, I started counting in my mind. A plan was due to spring up any moment now.

This was the last thing I had wanted to happen but if a fight was avoidable I wasn't going to be the one that started it.

"Where's the cub?"

"Well…"

Ron had just told me that the Carmosinos were on my tail but she hadn't said that they had gotten here.

What sort of coincidence was it that I bumped into one the instant the call ended?

It was probably just shitty luck—something I was more than used to by now.

It was common practice for the Carmosinos to send their killers undercover to one of the Ciscos, or other rival gangs', businesses. It usually happened to those who were thought to have gone rouge—they were completely cut off and few were ever taken back into the fold.

"Well?" she asked, increasing the pressure she put on the gun.

"I lost him," I admitted, the gears in my mind working hard. "You heard my call didn't you? I'm here to have fun, not work."

"You're lying."

"I'm not." I tried to turn around but she forced me to the door.

"Don't move."

I groaned when I slammed into cool metal, ignoring her hands as she patted me down.

She wouldn't find anything, especially since she was in a hurry. I had changed shirts and gotten myself a jacket. The knives were in the custom-made belt Ron had given me as a birthday present a year ago.