The Holy Ghost - M.E. Clayton Page 0,1

was invisible.

When I was working, I didn’t exist.

Sure, on paper, I existed.

On paper, I was clean as a whistle.

On paper, I was a respectable accountant, and I even had a degree in my name that claimed I had the proper credentials to manage someone’s money.

In reality, I was the Benetti Family’s number one hitman, and I was good at what I did. Never missed a mark, and no one ever knew it was me doing the marking. The only other souls on the planet that ever knew my agenda were Giovanni Benetti, Morgan City’s Mob Boss, Luca Benetti, the Underboss, and my best friend, Ciro Mancini, who just happened to be the Benetti Family’s number one enforcer.

My hits were so high profile that no one outside us four knew my kill count. In six short years, I went from a Mafia soldier to the Benetti’s most prolific killer.

And I was fucking great at it.

Granted, what else did a person become when they had no soul? And, tonight, I was in Neil Hansen’s home waiting patiently to put a bullet through his head.

Now, usually, my homework was spot on. I knew everything about my mark before I made my move. And I mean every-fucking-thing. I left nothing to chance. It was how my kill count was so high and I wasn’t behind bars for life.

Well, for a couple of lives if they only knew.

However, tonight had thrown me a curve when Neil’s mistress arrived on his doorstep, weeping uncontrollably, claiming to be pregnant with his child.

Normally, every Thursday afternoon, Neil Hansen sent his wife to a luxurious spa salon to get the works. He manipulated her into this tradition by convincing her that she needed to look her best in case he wanted to whisk her away to The Bahamas at the last minute. Leslie Hansen thought it romantic, but if the dingbat only knew the truth. Good, ol’ Neil sent her to the spa, so he could get his dick sucked by…wait for it…his workout trainer, who was thirty years his junior and a he.

Don’t let Neil’s pregnant mistress fool you. Respectable Neil Hansen had a boatload of sexual proclivities he indulged in.

A ship size boatload.

So, with his dick sucked, relaxed, and unsuspecting, it should have been easy-peasy to slip in, put a bullet in his head, and slip out.

But, no.

Enter the hysterical, pregnant girlfriend.

Now, while there’ve been very few in my lifetime as a Mafia hitman, I didn’t relish killing women. The women I have put down were sex traffickers or worse, if you can believe there’s something worse out there. But, trust me, there is. And I’ve never killed a child. I don’t care if you’re seventeen and your birthday is tomorrow; I’ll wait until tomorrow to kill you. So, there was nothing I could do until the pregnant mistress left. Even if she were evil, she was pregnant, and I’d never take an unborn life. I didn’t care what anyone else’s stance was on pregnancy, but to me, it was a life as long as the woman was nurturing it.

As a hitman, I shouldn’t have any weaknesses, but children were one of them for me. Probably because I knew I was never going to have any. Sure, Made Men had families all the time; hell, it was expected. But my chances at a family were blown to shit the day Frankie left me. I couldn’t imagine another woman birthing my children, and so I gave up on that dream. Kids held a special place for me because they were the only thing I’d be denied in this life. Sure, it was of by my own hand, but that’s how I felt.

Or maybe it was because my own parents were pieces of shit and I felt kids deserved better. Anthony and Ana Fiore should never have had children, and the only blessing to behold during my younger years was that I had been an only child. They only screwed up one life instead of the potential many they could have. Had it not been for meeting Ciro and Francesca, then Luca, who knows where I might have ended up. Everything good in me had been for Frankie, and everything strong in me had been for Ciro and Luca. They had been my only real family.

The four of us.

And then, one day, four became three.

I shook off those memories and went back to growing roots, waiting for Neil to get his hysterical mess under control and gone.

Now, you’re probably