Page 10 of The Assassin
Ardan grinned. “Never, because I won’t stop until there’s a bullet in your head.”
Mancini’s gaze dropped to Ardan’s lips and there was a tense moment of silence. “So violent.”
“Tell me what you want by having this little get together, Mancini. I’m on a schedule.”
“Are we not allowed to have a break? Have a drink with me, enjoy the music, and watch the hot fucking.” He waved his hand around the room, stopping at a young couple in the corner, fucking against the wall.
“I’d rather not.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Mancini touched Ardan’s cheek with the pad of his forefinger and traced it down Ardan’s jaw and neck. Ardan didn’t move, didn’t breathe. It was better to wait and see what would happen before reacting. “You’re here in Pleasant Beach with Odin’s permission now. Don’t give him a reason to throw you out again. Then what fun would our game be?”
“How did you know I was here?” Ardan asked, surprising himself by not stepping away from Mancini’s finger that now trailed over his chest. “Franco?”
“Franco is a good boy. He’s clever, but he doesn’t always know when I’m feeding him information I want him to know.” Mancini’s finger went farther south and when it reached Ardan’s belt, he stopped but didn’t move it away. “You’re here because I wanted you here.”
“So now I’m in Pleasant Beach, what are you going to do?” Ardan wished he had his knife, just so he could jam it into Mancini’s gut and see the pain spread across his face, but he was weaponless.
“We’re going to relax and have a beer.” Mancini dropped his hand and smirked, walking around Ardan and heading to the bar.
Ardan closed his eyes for a short moment, took a deep breath, and followed him. A curiosity poked at him. He needed to know what Mancini wanted. In the time he’d known him, Ardan had learned Mancini liked playing games. He was like a tiger who played with his food before he put it out of its misery.
“Do you still drink the Irish poison?” Mancini asked when Ardan joined him at the bar.
“That Irishpoisonis a lot better than any American crap,” Ardan retaliated. While he’d been born and raised in America, he’d learned to love his heritage at a young age. His father was already part of the Killough Company when Ardan was born and the company was all about their Irish pride. Even if your grandfather was the Irish immigrant, if you had the blood, you were one of them.
Mancini laughed and it lit up his entire face, making him look younger. He turned to the young blonde woman behind the bar. “Guinness for my friend, and I’ll have a Corona.”
Ardan settled onto a barstool and glanced around for something easy to grab to slam into Mancini’s head. It’d be the fastest and easiest way to get a weapon because he doubted any of the bikers had guns on them right now. “You’re a Corona man, why am I not surprised?”
Mancini took the stool next to him and chuckled. “If I was you, I’d probably try reaching for that rum bottle.” He pointed at the bottle he’d mentioned that sat on the bar a few seats down. A Lord had it cradled in his hand like a lifeline. “That’s your closet weapon, but good luck getting it from him. He’s a drunk and cares more about his alcohol than his dick, or so some of the boys have said.”
“How often do you associate with the Lords?” Ardan glanced at him, suddenly curious. “The Italians don’t associate with them.”
“No, the Italian mafia doesn’t, but I’m not part of them anymore, remember?” He winked at the bartender when she brought their drinks. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
Her cheeks flushed bright red and she patted his hand before sauntering away, checking over her shoulder as though trying to see if Mancini was watching her ass, but he’d already turned back to Ardan.
“I do business with Odin whenever I’m in town. Most marks think Pleasant Beach is safe because of the Lords.”
Ardan held back a snort. He knew that for a fact. The Lords were notorious around the US for running a city for criminals to hide out, but unbeknownst to a lot of people, they didn’t let in just anyone. They still needed to protect their own business, and they already had ties to a lot of powerful organizations, like the Killough Company.
“Santiago has never mentioned that.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” Mancini took a long sip of beer, his head thrown back and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Ardan followed the length of his neck, something warm stirring low in his gut that had him irritated and staggered. His cock twitched in fascination and that’s when he forced his gaze away and tried to search out Santiago in the crowd.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What happened there anyway? I thought you’d end up fucking your way into a relationship.”
Ardan clenched his teeth and spun on Mancini. “I’m not here to make friends with you. Just because I’ve agreed to Odin’s terms to not kill you, doesn’t mean we’re buddies.”
“We used to talk like this all the time.” Mancini nodded at Ardan’s Guinness. “You going to drink that? I haven’t poisoned it. It’s poisonous enough already.”
“Ha-fucking-ha.” Ardan wrapped his hand around the Guinness, but didn’t raise it. His mouth was suddenly dry and he wanted to lean over and taste the bubbly alcohol, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He’d worked too hard to get sober, and he wasn’t going to ruin it because he didn’t want to tell Mancini he didn’t drink anymore. If he didn’t kill himself from the intoxication, Sloan certainly would.
Mancini’s deep chuckle sent a thrill through Ardan like a spear of pleasure. “Two fucks in one day. I’m talented.”
Ardan dug out his phone from inside his jacket and checked the time. It was getting late in the afternoon, which meant the Lords would settle in to party all night. They were the type who wouldn’t let anyone leave before the fun really began, so Ardan was stuck here for awhile.
