Enforcer:A Bad Boy Romance

By: Olivia Jones
Chapter One


My knuckles crashed against the side of Paulie's head, his face swollen from my constant barrage. Piss had stained his crotch as he lay on his knees. His whimpering only made me want to hurt him more. Paulie was the neighborhood rat—skinny, losing hair, and always quivering with fear. Not much more than an empty suit. He knew every little piece of gossip around town and it only took a little bit of force to get him to spit out everything. My fists were balled into wrecking balls and I wouldn't stop until I got my information.

“Who did the job, Paulie?” I asked, cocking my arm back. “Who stole the drug shipment from the O'Malley brothers.”

“Fuck you, Locke.” Paulie spat out a bucketful of blood onto the concrete floor. His left eye was so swollen that he could barely see out of it. Why couldn't this job just be easy for once?

“Wrong answer, Paulie.” I pummeled him with punches, his head knocking back and forth. “I'll ask you one more time.” I knelt down until we were face to face. Sweat beaded on Paulie's brow. I pulled out a switchblade and watched Paulie's eye light up as the shiny blade sprung out.

“Come on, Locke,” Paulie pleaded. “We've been buddies for a long time. Hell, remember when your mother would bake those apple pies for the neighborhood picnics. I could almost taste 'em right now.”

My mom's pies really were the best. The annual neighborhood picnic was the best time of the year when I was a kid. But now it was only a memory. I had no empathy for this piece of shit. “Just because we grew up in the same neighborhood doesn't make us buddies, Paulie. Now tell me who stole the drugs and I won't cut out your eye.”

Snot bubbles grew out of his nose as he breathed in and out. “Oh God. Oh God. I don't know, Locke. I swear it!”

“Wrong answer.” I grabbed the back of Paulie's hair and craned his neck back. I put my knife just below his eye, the blade cutting into his cheek and drawing blood. This job could get pretty gruesome at times. But I was pretty good at it.

“No! No!” Paulie screamed. “I'll tell you what I know.” He knew I wasn't bluffing about cutting out his eye. I had done it to a guy in the neighborhood before.

I lifted the blade from his cheek but kept it close. “I'm all ears, Paulie.”

Paulie took a deep breath and wiped his runny nose. “I know it was a dealer but I don't know his name. Heard some junkie slut talking about him and his big score.”

I put my knife right back to his eye. “You better be fucking telling me the whole truth.”

Paulie cowered in fear. He was so pathetic. “I swear it!”

“Who's this junkie whore?” I asked, digging the knife into his cheek. It might be faster if I just cut his eye and got it over with. Paulie would tell me every secret he's ever kept. But then who would be the rat the next time around?

Paulie winced from the pain. “Some addict that lives on the twentieth floor in the abandoned building on Luther Ave.”

“What's her name?”

Paulie shut his right eye while his swollen one remained closed. “Uh....Alice. Yes! Alice was her name. Pretty sad story if you ask me. She was probably the hottest piece of ass before the drugs.”

I released Paulie's hair from my grip and carefully put my switchblade back in my pocket. “See, that wasn't too bad. Now, I hope you're telling the truth because I'd hate to have to come back here and carve you up.”

“I wouldn't tell you a lie, Locke.” Paulie slumped over with tears in his eyes. Next time he'd be more forthcoming.

I left the rat and hopped into my black Dodge Charger sitting outside. I put the key in the ignition and my baby roared to life—the one sound that made me feel at peace. I gripped the steering wheel and my bloody knuckles were all torn apart. I would need to put some bandages on later. Especially if the bosses made me do another job.

I worked for the O'Malley brothers as an enforcer doing the dirty work that nobody else wanted to deal with. I was good with my fists and never dreamed of doing anything else. The money was good and the hours even better. I'd rather go to jail than rot in a nine-to-five job.

I parked outside the O'Malley's Pub and locked the car. The sun was barely overhead but I needed a drink after that meeting with Paulie. I looked around at my surroundings, scanning the crowds for any danger. My job could be pretty hazardous and the O'Malley's Pub had seen its fair share of drive-by shootings. When the coast was clear, I entered the bar.

Harry was behind the bar, cleaning glasses with a white rag. His handle-bar mustache made him look like a bartender from those old western movies. “Give me the usual, Harry.” I sat down at the bar as Harry put a bottle of Jack Daniels in front of me. The alcohol burned nicely on the way down. It was already taking the edge off.