He kept his eyes forward as he walked down the narrow streets, jumping over a stray sleeping dog cuddling next to muttering stray human. This was a rough part of Monterose; their stone and brick Tudor row home was the nicest one on the street, having been well kept by his mentor. Every other apartment around them hosted boarded and iron-barred cracked windows or doors highlighted with graffiti and bullet holes. Flickering streetlights could not reflect off the rusted metal of abandoned cars. It wasn't a safe place, but it was also under the radar, perfect for their evening activities.
He wondered where Eva was tonight, whether she was scoping out a lead to a possible drug operation in the warehouse district near Northport, or a weapons trade on the docks. It finally started to feel like they were leaving an impact; an impact significant enough to start annoying the thugs that run this city and emboldening the police cowed by them.
Hell, maybe Dante family took notice.
He flinched, trying to forget about the two cronies who claimed the Dante name; trying to ignore the images of the bloody remains of Daniel, and the distinct memory of Erics' gored and empty eye socket.
It was just karma. He may have caused the injury, but everything else that played out was a well-deserved coincidence.
Yet the more he thought about it, the more he wondered...
Why was everything so messy?
The attack on Daniel was violent and brutal; one of his arms had been pulverized, his organs crushed under repeated bludgeoning blows until there was a hole through his stomach. Eric and Daniel were partners; why such a vicious death?
Eric's blood was found on the scene; if that was Eric, then he would've been injured as well. There should have been an easy trail to follow.
How did he get away?
...Did he get away?
What made the most sense was that the Dante Family would've taken them out for using their name so frivolously. However, this wasn't a cold, emotionless execution.
This was personal.
Whoever killed Daniel felt nothing towards him but rage and hatred.
Like a beast.
He felt a chill down his spine, a heavy weight on his shoulders, his body tensing as he suddenly thought of a blood red demonic visage. A roar echoed in the back of his mind as he thought of a monster.
Wrath.
He stopped walking, gritting his teeth as felt a cold drop of sweat down his chin at the memory Wrath; the top enforcer of the Dante Family; a killer so monstrous that his heart clenched painfully at the memory of fighting it.
He leaned against the light post, panting softly as he oriented himself, "Fuck, stop it. Stop thinking about this. Tonight is not about that."
Tonight was about him and Ira.
He sighed, stretching his neck side to side as he tried to ignore the memory of that roar, a sound that shook him to his very core when he heard it.
A sound very similar to the one he heard now. He stood up straight, jerking back as he looked behind him at the sign of their favorite cafe, before looking at the empty street. Lights suddenly appeared from a corner announcing the arrival of LaFerrari Aperta.
The curved chassis of the supercar screeched into a stop before him, and the roar quieted to a low purr as the red-winged doors opened so he could look into the proud gleaming eyes of the woman he had been waiting for.
Ira leaned back in the seat, showing off a few of her own curves as she smirked, "Get in sweetie."
"Holy shit." He was stunned, his legs shaking as he stepped into the masterpiece of a vehicle, the luxurious leather pressing softly against his suit, "A helicopter would've been cheaper, babe."
Ira laughed, her voice low and sultry, matching the purr of her car, "I wanted to pick you up in style." She pulled away from the curb, her left plastic, and metal arm on the wheel as her right arm controlled the gear, "Do you like it?"
Tristan gasped softly feeling the ride, his hands moving up to touch the dash, before he smirked, one hand lowering down to run his fingers against her leg, "Doesn't hold a candle to you, sweetie."
He loved hearing that gasp, "Keep that up, and I'm going to crash."
He chuckled, taking in her dress; how the gold and red enhanced her skin, how neckline was low enough to reveal those ample curves that he so wanted to enjoy. His fingers continued to stroke her thighs idly, and he smirked hearing a low moan, "You're absolutely stunning, babe. You didn't have to go this far for me."
Her thigh twitched, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she was trying to keep focused on the road, loose curls peering from under the golden scarf fluttered in the wind, "You're right. I didn't." She turned to him for a moment, grinning ear to ear, "I wanted to. Besides, I'm just driving an old car."
"Right. Even without a roof, this has the brand new car smell." He tilted his head to the side, the chilly night wind flowing against his hair, "I'm really curious about your family business."
Her eyes narrowed as she looked back to the road, "Waste Management."
He froze, his hand stopping their idle strokes, "Isn't that code for...?"
Her face was frozen for a few seconds, letting a tense silence fall between them.
He tried to gather his thoughts before finally deciding to speak, "Ira, are...are you into-"
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