Guns n' Boys: Homicidal Instinct (Book 2) (gay dark mafia erotic romance) (24 page)

Screams erupted to the
side, where the man who had already been pointing his gun at them fell back on
a stall, his fingers and blood mixing with piled up chicken breasts.

Domenico pushed open the
Staff Only door and dove into the dark innards of the building. The first thing
they noticed was a sudden drop in temperature, like in the frozen produce
section at a supermarket. Then the lights above flickered with a blue glow,
switching on as Domenico moved forward, with Seth almost breathing down his
neck. His brain was pulsing with heightened awareness. This was where the
industrial freezers were. And the slaughterhouse that opened in a double door
to their right. How very fitting.

Seth took a few more
steps, but then looked around the rows of carcasses hanging on hooks like some
kind of grotesque modern art installation. Clean white tiles made the place
seem sterile, like an operating theatre.

“What do we do?” Seth
uttered. “You think they know which vehicle is ours?”

Domenico gasped, looking
through the tunnel of naked flesh, straight at a door on the other side. Was it
open? The decision about what direction they should take was made for him when
he heard snippets of sentences in Italian all too close behind their backs. He
put his index finger against his lips and rushed through the vast hall of
uncooked protein, straight for the door. It was locked from the outside, but
not with keys. A heavy slab of metal made sure the door was shut. Dom pushed it
up and opened what turned out to be a walk-in freezer. Cold air made him break
out in goose bumps as he looked at the skinned animals, frozen stiff on their
hooks. He pushed Seth in.

“Stay and shoot if they
find you,” he whispered, looking back to estimate how much time he had. Not
much.

“I didn’t take my gun,”
Seth whimpered, trembling slightly already.

All air left Domenico’s
lungs, but he handed over his gun, no questions asked. “Hide,” he whispered.
“I’ll be back.”

At least he knew that
Seth was an okay shot. Seth nodded, but his frightened eyes pierced right
through Dom’s defenses as he shut the freezer. But with Seth out of the way,
Dom wouldn’t have to worry about him for the duration of the fight that was
about to happen. He locked the freezer, hoping it wouldn’t occur to the other
mafiosi to check it if it was locked from the outside. He looked around for
weapons. Breath caught in his throat when in the weak, bluish light he spotted
a cart next to a fresh carcass that was still leaking blood all over the floor.

Domenico ducked and sped
for what it held. He snatched a pair of thick work gloves, looking at the
tools. In a pool of watered-down blood were several knives, a hand saw, and a
roast needle. For a moment his instincts got confused by the selection with
only two hands to fill, but when the voices got louder, he went for a heavy
cleaver and the sharp knife with dents all along the length. He squatted behind
the cart just in time.

Four. No, five men. One
dragging behind with his hand leaking blood all over the floor. They all had
guns, but Dom didn’t know how many bullets. Two ran down the corridor, disappearing
from Dom’s sight, as the other three, including the injured one, rushed into
the slaughterhouse to quickly search the vast room.

Domenico waited,
watching the hyenas coming to the turf he had already claimed. Through the
shelves of the cart he could easily watch the three men enter with their guns
ready to fire. They were cautious, watching their steps as if they were
expecting the floor to crumble beneath their feet. But the swamp would only
swallow them after the predator had his fill. Those were the rules of the hunt.
Dom’s mouth stretched into a wide smile when one of the men parted from the
others and started slowly walking over to the still bleeding carcass next to
Domenico. His brown eyes were on the fresh meat, wide below the frowning brows,
and Domenico imagined the man was picturing himself on a hook as well. Ready
for shipping.

Domenico took a shallow
breath, drawing air into his lungs at a slow pace so he wouldn’t be heard. He
was ready to strike when the mafioso turned to face the other way. All it took
was two strides, and Domenico had him.

It came so natural for
Dom to kill. Like he was finally in the right place. With his left hand
pressing the back of the man’s head to his shoulder as if it were the
fingerboard of a cello, Domenico played his vocal strings with the knife.
Despite having no memory of his past, the song of the sliced throat made Dom
remember exactly who he was.

But the other men must
have heard the sound of a soul leaving its body, because they fired Dom’s way.
Dom dropped the body and spun around to hide behind a carcass with the man’s
gun already in hand. He smiled, feeling the familiar weight of the same model
of Beretta he owned. He raised and dropped his hand, focusing on what he’d get
out of this weapon. He started counting their bullets before he even realized
he was doing it. The gun in his hand had two, perhaps three left so he needed
to use them wisely.

“Acerbi, leave Villani
to us, and you’ll live. Stop fucking killing your own, traitor!” yelled a voice
he knew. Matteo was the man’s name. Straight.

Domenico backed away
toward the door. Slow, even steps that made almost no noise. If he were here
without Seth, he’d run, take out the two men who went ahead and flee before the
police came. But Seth was there, freezing his ass off in the walk-in where he
chose to stay because he trusted Dom to come back.

Frederico had lied. Of
course he had. Seth wasn’t the kind of person who made deals with cartels. He
was the kind of person who made waffles with whipped cream and bananas. Seth
didn’t even consider taking his fucking gun with him today. He trusted Dom to
keep him safe so much he would die in a freezer believing Dom to come back any
minute.

Another shot rippled
through the air, but when the man tried to shoot again, the gun just clicked.
No more bullets. No sound of reloading.

“You vowed loyalty,” the
other man hissed, the idiot only revealing his position this way.

Domenico’s back hit the
wall and he looked toward the door, at the light switch just a few paces away.
He glanced at the carcasses and rushed toward it, only to bury the cleaver in
the plastic. The blade went in like through skin and bone, and then, with a
hiss of electricity, all lights died. It was show time.

“Motherfucker,” one of
the men muttered, but Dom’s senses were heightened, and he still remembered
where they stood. A bullet grazed the carcass Dom was next to and hit the wall,
smashing tiles. He didn’t make a sound but grinned when the wounded mafioso
scolded Matteo about wasting bullets. He was one to talk if he didn’t have any.
Domenico dove between the slabs of meat and reached into the pocket where he
kept some change. Through the muted smell of raw flesh he could sense a hint of
gunpowder, a warning that his enemies were close.

His heart was beating
faster the more he shrunk the distance between him and the mafiosi, senses on
high alert. He could hear them breathe, their clothes rustle, and he was glad
he wore soft denim pants today.

A shadow moved to his
left, a hand sliding over the wall, desperately seeking the light switch, while
the other man stayed put, just spinning in place, his shoes squeaking
unpleasantly on the floor.

Dom squeezed his hand
over the bloodied knife, turning the first coin in his fingers before tossing
it the other way. Matteo shot where it fell with a slight clang, losing another
bullet, while the other mafioso backed away, closer to Dom by the second. Dom
could almost hear blood dripping to the floor from the man’s injured hand, and
the coppery taste on his tongue only made the hunt more exciting.

He scooted down and
sliced the man’s Achilles's tendons like they were cheese strings before
turning the knife at the right angle and slashing up. The blade went into the
mafioso’s back before he could even turn around.

The man screamed and
writhed, trying to grip a carcass above him. Matteo didn’t have mercy for his
companion, and shot their way twice before running out of bullets. Dom hid
behind the dying man, but neither of them were hit. A gurgle of blood left the
man’s mouth and soaked into Dom’s shirt, but the heat spilling on his shoulder
could not distract Domenico from his new target. He raised the gun and fired a
single bullet into Matteo’s forehead.

There were footsteps
coming from the corridor. Two men. The mafiosi? Security? Police? How much time
had passed since he came in here? Domenico missed the moment when Matteo
dropped to the floor, but he wouldn’t miss the time to hide. He rushed closer
to the door and quickly jumped on one of the skinned cow backs, stiffening with
his thighs against the meat.

These two were smart
enough to keep quiet, but rushing around too much. Dom’s eyes were used to the
darkness by now, so he watched them in complete silence. Three down, two to go.
He couldn’t help a smile against the cold meat when one of the men reached the
cleaver stuck in the light switch.

“Don’t--!” was all the
other one managed to say before an explosion of sparks and blue light
electrocuted the unfortunate soul. There must have been more cables in the wall
that Domenico didn’t even know about. The other was smart enough not to help
his companion, but that didn’t mean he’d survive a meeting with one of the
world’s most dangerous predators. The gun with one bullet to spare was hidden
under Domenico’s jacket, a safe, cool weight that could be useful later. One
guy Dom could easily take on with the knife.

Dom was so confident it
was a pleasure to watch the man shift in the darkness, pointing his gun from
one side to the other. Having just come from the bright corridor, he didn’t see
as well as Dom. An antelope at the pond, unable to spot the approaching
crocodile. The guy took a shuddery breath and switched on a lighter, kneeling
down, his eyes wide as if he expected to see a ghost. It was a body instead.

The man cursed beneath
his breath and backed off, his head swinging from one side to the other, trying
to find Dom’s legs in the darkness. He wouldn’t. Despite not seeing where the
danger would come from, the last mafioso started backing out into a corner.
Smart move to have his back covered, but Domenico slowly pulled himself down
from the carcass as soon as the light died. He would have to bathe soon, but
that was irrelevant. He squeezed the handle of the knife and walked between the
dead pigs hanging off hooks. It was very fitting. Domenico threw a coin toward
where he’d just been and used the second’s distraction to walk past the man, a
few rows of hooks away from him. Catching him from behind would be optimal.

And there it was, the
man shot that way and dropped his lighter to the tiles. His face was tense in
the sparse lighting, and the more panic Dom saw in his gestures, the more
confident he felt. Off went another coin, this time a bit farther away to cheat
the man into a false sense of safety, but now that Domenico could clearly see
the man’s back, shoulders that rose and fell with each deep breath, it was a
lost cause. The man’s pulse was probably racing, which meant he couldn’t hear
as well as he usually did. Five more steps. Four. Three. Two. One.

“Have you missed me?”
whispered Dom, grabbing the guy’s right hand and pressing on his unprotected
wrist. The gun fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

Dom attempted to break
the joint, but the mafioso managed to slide his hand out thanks to an oversized
watch. He spun around and hit Dom’s back with an elbow.

Dom gritted his teeth
and stepped away, kicking the gun far away over the floor. The dull ache near
his kidney was a reminder that not all of the men who came after them were
fuckups. There was no time for pleasantries though, and he charged at the man,
keeping the knife ready for action.

The mafioso was taller
than him but agile, and now getting used to the darkness. He grabbed one of the
massive carcasses and swung it at Dom, forcing him to jump to the side.

“Give up,” Dom said,
narrowing his eyes. “I’m Animal Control.”

The frown and the blank
stare were all Dom needed to confirm that this nickname wasn’t common
knowledge. God knew where Dana got it from.

“What? Are you mad?” the
man snarled, but Domenico made good use of his confusion and threw the knife in
the darkness. It went right into the guy’s side, sinking into him as if his
body were made of butter.

He screamed in pain, but
it wasn’t enough to make him fall. Instead, he limped to the side, and hid
behind a large carcass. Dom couldn’t see him, but the rattle of metal didn’t
promise anything good. Domenico exhaled and dashed between the pigs at a safe
distance. He pulled off his jacket and held on to it, ready to use it as a
makeshift weapon.

The mafioso slowly
emerged from the darkness, holding a thick long chain with a hook at its end.
He swung it to one side, then to the other, approaching Dom with his brows low
over his eyes.

“I see you want to join
your friends on the hooks,” Dom said with a wide grin, even though he knew he
needed to get Seth out soon. “And you can’t hurt me if you don’t want Frederico
Villani busting your ass.”

The scowl appearing on
the man’s face told him it was true. “I heard on TV that you’re the one getting
your ass ‘busted’.” Despite the knife in his side, the man swung the chain
toward Dom and smashed it into the tiles in front of him. Domenico stepped on
it, intent on using his weight to block his enemy from using that half of the
makeshift weapon.