MY GIRL – BLOODY BUSINESS BOOK 3 COPYRIGHT © 2020 AJ WOLF
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, plots, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental. The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of all word marks, products, and brands mentioned in this work of fiction.
Cover Image/Book Formatting by AJ Wolf Graphics
BETA Read by Abby
Editing by Sisters Get Lit(erary) Author Services
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Five Years Later
What's Coming
AJ Wolf
Stalk Me
This book contains a love triangle with content that some might consider cheating, blood/violence, adult language, and sexual content. Please read at your own discretion.
Fuck, I hate these people. It’s my first thought, as I drive past the rusted chain link fence and park near the back entrance. Tapping my cigarette box against my palm, I pull one out, holding it in my mouth as I grab my revolver off the passenger seat. The clock on the dash says I need to hurry the fuck up unless I want to be late to my meeting. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll move any quicker, though.
Exiting my armored SUV, I tuck my gun into the waistband at the back of my jeans, reaching back into the cab to grab my lighter. Lighting the cigarette, I toss it back onto the seat, taking a long drag as I stare at the building in front of me. I’ve only been back a single day, but I’d be happier anywhere else.
“Aye! Look who it is!” At the voice, I glance over my shoulder, slamming my door shut as they continue yelling. “Back from vacation, Wolf?”
Blowing smoke through my nose, I turn to eye the man coming to slap me on the back in greeting. I really fucking wish he wouldn’t. His arm pauses mid-swing with the look on my face, dropping to casually slap his thigh like that was his intention the entire time.
“We thought you’d be back sooner.” He says, still smiling despite my lack of camaraderie.
“You thought wrong.” He laughs at this, clearly not taking the hint that I don’t want to deal with his chit chat right now. Luca has always been a fucking moron. “Where is the package?”
“Oh, we have him inside. He was…” He starts to say more, but I start toward the doors, his words lost in my wake. Not discouraged in the least, he jogs to catch up, continuing like I didn’t leave him mid-sentence. “He was getting mouthy, so we put a gag on him.”
I push through the doors, the creaking of the metal loud and echoing in the open space, causing every head inside to turn my way. In the middle of the room is my package, sitting pretty on a metal chair that’s been bolted to the floor. Bound, gagged, and bleeding, sits none other than Chancler Fitzpatrick, underboss of The Westies.
I hand my cigarette off to Luca, holding the smoke in my lungs until I’m standing in front of Chancler. Tugging his gag from his mouth, I let out my smoke, smiling as he sucks in a heavy breath, immediately followed by hacking coughs.
“Have your fun now! Any second Joseph will have men in here!” His words are yelled through his coughs, his eyes burning with rage as he watches me stand straight.
“Who do you think hired us to get you?” His face falls just the slightest bit at my question, giving away the fact that he already knew that could be a possibility. “The old man himself.” I say, watching as his chest quickly rises and falls with his growing panic.
“You lie! You feckin eejit! Why would he do that?” His nostrils are flared, sweat dripping from his balding head and down the sides of his face.
I pull the revolver from my waistband as he watches, cock the hammer back as he stares. His body is shaking now, arms pulling at their restraints as his fight or flight response tries to kick in. We usually don’t bother with Westie business, but Joseph came to Capo Famiglia with a problem he apparently couldn’t solve himself; needed help connecting the dots. Lucky for him, I excel at all kinds of puzzles, and Capo Famiglia was feeling generous enough to loan me out.
“Typically, stealing and selling product to make your own profit is frowned upon in this business Fitzpatrick. But to also sleep with your Boss’s wife?” I shake my head with mock disappointment, pursing my lips at his shaking head. “That’s just rude.”
He sputters at my accusations, face getting red as he tries to find something to say with the hope of delaying the inevitable. “I…”
His sentence ended almost before it began, his head snapping to hang backward as blood drips from the bullet hole scored through it. Tucking my gun away, I hold my hand out to Luca, who passes back my cigarette, watching silently as I smoke. “I’m going to need the warehouse cleared. Capo Famiglia will be here soon.”
He gives me a stupid little salute, smiling as he shouts to the men standing near us. Finishing off my smoke, I drop the butt onto the concrete floor, snubbing it out with my boot. I silently watch as the other men file out the door, my pulse picking up just the slightest bit as I stand quietly, waiting. My gaze shifts over to the door of the warehouse, finger tapping inside my pocket to match
