Amethyst Origins

Author's Note:

Hello again! I can't help but crank out chapters. Story is just coming together easily. I hope you all like it! Enjoy!

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Chapter Four

"So who's the tail?"

Hayden ignored the inappropriate question and reached into a drawer in his black desk and pulled out a manila envelope. He tossed it over to one of Joe Marcello's crooks. The large man counted the bills and nodded to his boss in confirmation. Joe Marcello's hard blue eyes landed on Hayden.

Hayden Quinn had never liked Joe Marcello. He was a piece of shit mob boss who seemed to always have a hidden agenda. Admittedly he was also an excellent businessman and very good with money. Especially the protection money he demanded out of everyone who owned a business within his territory.

Hayden cleared his throat.

"Are we done here, Joe?" he asked impatiently.

Joe Marcello unconsciously sucked his teeth and looked around the white office. He then looked at the other bodyguard that had come in with him and nodded his head. The bodyguard pulled a larger manila envelope out of his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the black desk. Hayden picked it up and opened it.

"What sick shit is this, Joe?" Hayden sneered before dropping the envelope.

Hayden stood up for his desk and turned away from the three thugs. Joe Marcello cleared his throat from behind him and ordered the bodyguard to pick up the envelope. Hayden turned around and glared at Joe.

"This is what happens when business owners forget their place, Mr. Quinn," Joe said with a voice that one might use when discussing the weather.

"I

own

this city," Joe stated before picking up a cigar from the oak box on the black desk. He then reached for the small box of matches.

"I own its people, its law enforcement, and I own you," Joe added before lighting the cigar with one of the wooden matches.

Hayden stared at the man like he was crazy. Joe Marcello was a snake. The first time Hayden had refused to play ball one of his bouncers was found decapitated outside the club. They found his head on a spike across the street.

Hayden had started making payments that night.

"Do you have a problem with our generous agreement, Mr. Quinn?" Joe asked softly.

Hayden didn't have to the think about his answer.

"No, we don't," Hayden replied with venom.

"Now leave," he added with as much confidence as he could muster. He knew he had to maintain a hard exterior or Joe Marcello would sense his fear and drown him in it.

Joe Marcello smiled, though on a man like him it was more of a sneer. He stood up and walked out with both of his bodyguards in tow. Hayden let out a breath and relaxed in his chair. A few minutes later he dialed a number on his phone. After a few seconds a man picked up.

"What is it?" a man's voice answered with a sleepy and slightly aggravated voice.

"We've got a problem," Hayden replied. "Joe Marcello is cutting off body parts of business owners who don't play ball. We need to squash this bullshit before the whole city goes up in smoke," Hayden said, his voice laced with warning.

"I'll handle it," the man stated with a voice of confidence.

And with that he hung up.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Alana followed Joe Marcello and his two bodyguards in their black SUV. They drove through downtown and towards the suburbs where Marcello's mansion was located. She drove behind another vehicle the whole way to the mansion to avoid detection. She parked her bike outside the large stone wall that surrounded the compound.

After leaving the club Alana had feigned illness and took a cab home to change. Once she'd changed she drove the three blocks back to the club grateful that her friend had picked a close night club. Even if the nightclub was owned by a handsome man she'd just meant that could be dirty with Joe Marcello.

She mentally shook herself. It wouldn't have worked anyways. Half the city was in deep with Joe Marcello so it shouldn't have really surprised her.

She began climbing up the tall stone wall. She was halfway up the wall when a strong hand pulled her up and stood her on both of her feet. Amethyst tried to balance herself for a fight when she realized who'd pulled her up. She scowled at him.

"Aren't you tired of trespassing?" she asked angrily.

"Technically, we're both trespassing," he replied simply.

Alana scoffed before she slid down the other side of the wall. She didn't wait for the man to follow her. She knew she didn't have to. He walked alongside her as they worked their way towards the back entrance. The entire compound was surrounded by Marcello's security. They were all armed with 9mm handguns and SMGs.

Suddenly Death Row grabbed her and pushed her up against one of the stone walls just as a security guard walked past them. Just as she was about to thank him she noticed the strange look in his eyes as he watched her. She turned away from him. His dark eyes were doing strange things to her sanity.

"Don't even think about it," she warned before elbowing him to give herself some space.

He chuckled. "Only in my dreams, sweetheart," he replied smoothly.

"What are you even doing here?" she demanded softly. "Wait, do I even want to know?" she asked more to herself than to him.

"Joe Marcello has a bookkeeper by the name of Julius Steinman. He's got the logs on every one of Marcello's businesses and how much he collects in protection money. If I get my hands on that info, I'll know who he hits up next," he explained simply.

His dark eyes flew up to look into hers. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Alana was about to tell him what happened but given they were supposed to have secret identities that wouldn't really protect hers. She cleared her throat and nodded at him.

"I got the same info, I want to hand the books over to the police and maybe it can help their case against him," she lied.

He scoffed. "Police can't do shit about Marcello. That's why we're here," he replied.

He pointed to the front entrance. "There are cameras set up every ten meters along the stone wall. Two guards posted at every entrance into the mansion. On my way in I noticed some Dobermans over by the pool. So we might want to avoid making a grand entrance or we could get bit in the ass," he explained.

Alana nodded her agreement. "How do you suggest we do this?" she asked quietly.

"I had a pretty good idea," he offered before pushing her out in front of the bodyguard. The man pulled out his 9mm and aimed it at her as he walked towards her. Just as the guard walked towards her partner stepped out and snapped the man's neck. He dragged the body into the shadows behind the wall.

"What did I say about killing?" Alana chastised him.

Death Row didn't respond.

"And that was your grand idea?" Alana scoffed before she punched him in the shoulder. "I could have gotten shot, you idiot!" she said a little louder.

Death Row shushed her. "Calm down and follow my lead, sweetheart. We'll be fine," he assured before moving stealthy along the wall to one of the doors that led into the mansion.

"Here's his friend," Amethyst warned pushing Death Row out of the way of the bodyguard's view. The man walked towards them before stopping halfway and waiting.

"Seriously, is that like in every guard's guide book?" Amethyst whispered before she crouched over to him and step up behind him.

Swiftly, she wrenched the gun out of the man's hand and hit him in the neck with the butt of his gun. The guard crashed to the ground. She quickly removed the clip and pulled back the charging hammer to release the loaded bullet. She did the same with the automatic.

She pocketed the ammo and tossed the guns in the rose bushes. Amethyst turned to Death Row and he was just staring at her. She sighed and when he didn't stop staring at her she hit him in the shoulder. He was looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"I said no killing, not that I didn't know how to use a gun," Amethyst admitted before reaching for the door handle of the large black iron glasses doors. She turned it lightly before Death Row's hand stopped her. His rough hand clutched hers in a steel-like grip.

"If you don't want to kill anyone you better stay out here," he warned.

"Like hell I will," Alana protested.

She grabbed the door handle and twisted it before slipping inside. Death Row was fast on her heels. She low crawled past a nearby piano and hid herself behind an antique sofa. Death Row was on the other side of the living room obscured in a dark corner.

Alana could feel her heartbeat sped up as she heard footsteps draw near.

"Like I said, nobody's is gonna' talk if they don't have a windpipe," said one of them.

Alana felt her chest tighten. It was Joe Marcello. Every time she heard his snake like voice it made her spine stiffen. Her brother's dead face flashed in front of her eyes and she could almost smell the sick stink of blood and death. She closed her eyes and took two deep breaths.

She drew out a pair of brass knuckles she kept in her suit pocket and was about to stand up and take out the other guy when she heard a heartbreaking sound.

"Daddy, it is time for my bedtime story?"

Alana heart sank and she looked up to where Death Row had been positioned. He wasn't there and she couldn't be sure if the crazy bastard would try to kill Joe Marcello in front of his kid. Alana looked around the side of the antique sofa. A little girl, spinning image of her father, was sitting on his lap hugging him.

Alana felt bile rise in her throat.

This sick sadistic prick was a father. She'd never considered Joe Marcello to be anything but a monster. She tried to tear her eyes away from what should have been a heartwarming sight. If she attacked this man in front of his child, no matter how horrible he was, would that make her any less of a monster?

"Yes, honey, I'll be up in a few minutes," Marcello replied before leaning down to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead. "Go on, scoot," he said turning her in the direction of the immaculate ivory staircase.

The little girl walked away humming softly. A stuffed bunny gripped in her right hand. Alana felt sick. She couldn't kill Marcello with his little girl in the house. It wouldn't be justice for her family. She had to find another way.

"Now back to business," Marcello said to one of his bodyguard. "Tell Julius I need those books cooked before the FEDS decide to show up at his office," Joe continued. "Then get rid of him, he's become a liability."

Amethyst was trying to wave down Death Row to stop him from taking out Marcello but it was too late. Death Row snuck out from behind the curtain he'd been hiding in and grabbed Marcello's man in a choke hold. The next few moments passed in what had to be slow motion. Death Row snapped the man's neck and pulled his 9mm on Marcello and stared the crime lord down with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Get on your knees, you piece of shit," Death Row ordered. He shoved the barrel at Marcello's forehead and he obeyed. Marcello knelt with both of his hands spread out before him in the universal sign of surrender.

"Where's the book?" Death Row ordered, shoving the barrel of the gun harder into Marcello's skull.

Marcello stared right back at Death Row with humor and something else that made Amethyst feel queasy in his eyes.

"Who's lookin' for it?" Marcello demanded. Then a dark eyebrow rose. "Did I fuck your wife or something?" he asked mockingly.

Death Row butt checked him with the 9mm. "Last chance," he warned menacingly.

"Where's the book?" the question sent a shiver up Amethyst's back.

Alana hoped for Marcello's sake that he did what he was told before Death Row took a limp off or worse.

Marcello spit blood in his face.

Alana sighed.

Death Row butt checked him across the face again. "I will dismember you and feed you to your Dobermans, so help me," he threatened.

Some people had to do it the hard way.

"You can fuck off," he threw back before he turned to Amethyst.

"But you can stay if you like," he said, a sick smile spreading across his face.

Death Row's hand flew out and grasped Marcello's throat. His massive hand crushed it easily. Marcello's gurgled sounds filled the lavish living room. Death Row squeezed tighter and Alana remembered it only took a few pounds of pressure to crush a windpipe.

Her hand shot out and landed on his. Death Row's once rage filled eyes captured hers and it was almost if he finally realized where they were and what he was doing. Amethyst squeezed his arm with her hand other hand reassuringly. He let go and Marcello's fell to the ground sputtering and cursing like a madman.

Amethyst walked over to Marcello and glared down at him.

"You're going down one way or another Marcello, it's just a matter of when," Amethyst warned him.

Marcello's eyes flew to what she suspected was another one of his goons. A shot rang out and before Amethyst knew what was happening Death Row was dragging her out of the mansion. It took her a few moments to register the blood she smelt in the air and the warmth of it on her hands. She looked down and froze.

Was it hers?

Death Row groaned next to her and she realized he'd taken a shot to the right side of his chest, probably just inches away from his heart.

"Don't ever say I didn't do anything for you," Death Row joked.

"You could've died," Amethyst countered even as she swung his left arm over her shoulders and helped him through the gates of the property. In the confrontation security must have unlocked the gates to get inside. Not the smartest security in town.

"I've been shot before," he stated simply. "Getting stabbed is worse," he added.

Amethyst wondered about his vague comment as she helped him walk over to her bike hidden behind some bushes.

"You need medical attention, I'm taking you to the hospital," she decreed.

"I'll survive. Will you just patch me up?" Death Row advised.

"Fine, I know a place. Can you manage to stay on my bike?" she asked.

*~*~*~*~*~*

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