REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Liam

I parked the Bentley down a quiet side street across from Alexa's apartment building. She is working at the club for another hour, so now is the perfect opportunity for me to break in and explore. I am not sure what I expect to find or uncover, but to dispel doubt, I had to listen to this nagging, festering feeling in my gut.

As I walked toward the ramshackle concrete building, I spotted a cluster of problematic youths in snapback caps, nylon tracksuits and high-top trainers, scattered among strewn push bikes and discarded beer bottles. Marijuana fumes fogged their gathering. Loud guffaws and offensive language resounded.

Alexa lived on the wrong side of town, and loitering upheaval is likely customary, but when she came home from work, tired and ready for bed, she shouldn't have to bypass these insolent, troublesome hoodlums.

I was deceptively sangfroid upon emergence. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

My arrogance affronted the leader of the pack. He is an arrogant toerag with little-man syndrome, drinking a cheap energy drink. His fingers dented the crushable can. "What's it to you?" He scoffed. "Take a hike."

"Take a hike," I said whispery, entertaining his overt disrespect. "Impressive." Derision thickened my tone. "I have never met wannabe gangsters before."

"Yo, ain't that Liam Warren?" another muttered behind his hand.

"Indeed." My eyes never left the chopsy fucker. "Go and find a different spot. You are not welcome here."

Tawdry spat gum on the floor right by the Italian leather on my feet. "I don't need to listen to you—"

My hand locked around his throat before he finished his sentence. His only option was to wither under my rutilant glare. "You need to pick a new spot," I snarled, my fingers digging into the soft hollowness of his neck. "If I catch any of you motherfuckers chilling outside of this building again, I will hack off those puny peckers you dare to call cocks with a blunt butcher's knife and make you choke on them." He whimpered, his friends already dispersing into the shadows with their push bikes. "Have I made myself abundantly fucking clear?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Good." I tossed him aside like worthless discards. "Get out of here."

He toppled over the bike's rustic frame to dash away from me. I never watched him leave. I opened the waist-high metal gate precariously hanging onto the perimeter fence and moved through the communal garden. It's a diabolical mess. It very much resembled a landfill site: rubbish and wet clothing littered the overgrown grass, which swallowed threadbare furniture, overfilled recycling bags and empty alcohol bottles. There is a used syringe on the concrete pathway. I kicked it to the side, the blood in my veins burning hot. Brightly coloured slang and vulgar graffitied the grey brick wall by the main entrance. While I dodged unkempt thistles and thorn bushes spattering onto the path, something squished under the sole of my shoe.

My face burnt in disgust.

A filled condom clung to my black Ferragamo shoe.

Unclenching my jaw, I dragged my foot across the grass to remove it and proceeded ahead.

Rechecking Alexa's address on my phone, I entered the dank, musty smelling foyer and ascended the stairs to the top floor, pleased to see some distance between her home and the streets. Her front door came into sight. My fingers wiggled into old leather gloves. Removing the bobby pin from my coat pocket, I picked the lock,

I cannot see anything in the dark hallway, but it smelt pleasant. Lemon air freshener and dried laundry spread throughout. I used the phone's torch function and glanced into the bathroom: horrendous polychromatic green wall tiles and uneven floorboards. Opening the wall-mounted cabinet above the chipped sink, I flicked through bottled cosmetics, mouthwash, toothpaste. Mirtazapine medication. I cast light on the expired, unsealed package. Due to the faded label, I could not read the patient information.