Big Bad Björn

This book is a part of a series but can be read as a stand-alone. This is the fourth book after ‘Pet-Brother’. The order of the series is ‘Pet-Brother’, ‘Jordan’s Brat’, ‘Thomas and Ash’ and then 'Big Bad Björn'.

Be warned that this is a gay romance with sexual, BDSM themes and mentions of mental health issues including psychopathy. There will also be violence.

BJÖRN'S P.O.V

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

"Björn!" Trajan pulled me away from the man's lifeless body. "Enough! He's dead!"

"Don't fucking touch me," I frowned, shrugging his hands off me as I rose to my feet.

I could feel him and my two other 'coworkers' staring at me- at the blood on my hands. We were meant to be interrogating some lowlife gangster who was part of a bigger human trafficking ring. The fucker had refused to give us answers and I was meant to make him talk.

I guess my temper got the best of me.

I stared at his body, taking in his bashed-in face, the blood covering him and his lifeless, unblinking eyes. My hands had done that. I didn't feel a damn thing.

"He deserved it," I shrugged, "Bring the next guy in. I'll make sure he talks this time."

"Nope," Farrell, who had been watching silently from the corner, shook his head. "No more interrogation for you. You're going straight home. Take a shower. Go to the gym. Let out some of that steam."

"I'm fine."

"Well, I'm not," Blaise frowned, "That was disgusting."

"I agree," Trajan nodded, "We have to be neat about these things. You've got blood all over your damn clothes."

"Mhm," Farrell agreed, crossing his arms over his chest, "You've got to go home. You're far too angry to be doing this right now."

I rolled my eyes, annoyed that they'd practically teamed up against me. But I couldn't be bothered to complain so I left the room and headed straight to the showers, ignoring the bloody trail I was leaving behind me.

I spent at least half an hour getting clean and watched as the water changed from red to clear once all the blood was off me. I then changed into new clothes and tossed the old ones into the fire.

I had no plans for the evening but considered going to a club or something. However, I didn't get a chance to leave the building as a voice rang out from the speakers the second I stepped foot out of the changing rooms.

"Björn," the deep, semi-robotic voice spoke to me, "Go to my office. Now."

I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. "Whatever you say, Boss."

I walked down the hallway, making my way to the elevator and up to the top floor. I didn't bother knocking before I entered the boss' office. It was always empty, with nothing inside but a large screen, a desk and a single chair.

I strolled towards the chair, took a seat and watched as the screen turned on. On it was the blurred figure of a man I had never seen, let alone met despite having worked for him for nearly five years now. I only knew that he was my boss, he was a he, and he was dating and/or married to Farrell.

Oh, and he knows everything. Like God or Satan.

"Your recent behaviour has been unacceptable," he said, getting straight to business, "You've been acting carelessly, killing as you please, using an excessive amount of force... I have half the mind to fire you."

"Go ahead," I shrugged, "It's not like I need the cash. I've made plenty at this point."

"If I were to fire you, you'd go off killing people on your own. And then we would have to kill you."

There was a hint of threat to his voice that I could hear even with the filter on, and he was right. On my own, I was unstable- insatiable. I needed to kill. It was part of my nature. That's why the job was so good for me. And usually, I did my work well. But lately, I'd been getting... carried away.

"I know you've been going through a rough patch," he said, "Farrell informed me about your situation with Ash."

I grit my teeth at the mention of my ex's name. I no longer held any animosity towards him but that didn't mean I enjoyed hearing about him. Especially now that he had left the organisation to pursue his happily ever after with his neurosurgeon lover.

"I think you should take some time off work," the boss continued, "It's clear that you aren't over everything that happened and you're starting to become a liability. You should consider therapy. I could have a meeting arranged for you, paid for by the organisation and-"

"I don't need therapy," I cut him off, feeling annoyed. "You're all being dramatic. We're professional killers for fucksake, and you all freak out when you see a bit of blood? Oh no- Björn beat somebody to a pulp!" I gasped, imitating them, "The absolute horror!"

The boss remained silent, clearly unamused by my little outburst. I shut my mouth, knowing better than to keep getting on his nerves.

"Go home," he demanded, "Come back when you're ready to start acting like an adult."

The screen turned off, signalling that I had been dismissed.

I rolled my eyes, raised my middle finger to the blank monitor and left the room.

'Go home' they said. So that's exactly what I decided to do.

Okay, so I didn't go directly home. Some would say I took a little detour. Fine- a long detour. To the strip club. Then the normal club. Then the BDSM club.

But it was a Friday night, what did you expect me to do? Go home alone? No, thank you.

I picked up a pretty sub from the club, took him back to my penthouse and fucked him right to sleep. He understood that I wasn't looking for anything serious, and he fulfilled his purpose. I even made sure to leave him some money for a cab because I knew I'd be too hungover to take him home in the morning.

And I was right.

By the time the sun came up, I felt like shit.

"Ngh-" I groaned, burying my face under my pillow as my head throbbed. "I am full of regret. I am made of regret. I am regret. Regret is me."

I don't know whether to shoot myself or shoot somebody else.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the sound of the vacuum cleaner came on. And it was obnoxiously loud.

I'm definitely shooting somebody else.

"Fucking hell!" I shouted, throwing off the pillow and sheets as every second with the vacuum cleaner on felt like someone was trying to drill through my skull.

I left my room, slamming the door open before I went rushing down the stairs- stumbling a little because I was still partially intoxicated after having drunk so goddamn much last night.

I followed the deafening, maddening noise to my living room where I found a total stranger vacuuming the carpet. I could tell from the white shirt they were wearing that they'd come with the cleaning company I'd hired and I was pissed off because I had specifically informed them not to come in on the weekends.

"Turn it off!" I yelled, but the stranger had their back turned to me and was busy dancing to whatever was playing from their headphones.

I let out a loud, frustrated groan and stormed over to them, grabbing them by the shoulder. They turned around with wide eyes, looking startled.

"Turn it o-" I started my sentence but didn't get to finish it.

*SLAP!*

My head snapped to the side and I reached up to touch my cheek with wide eyes.

"What the-" I frowned, turning to glare at the man who was significantly smaller than me. I had killed men twice his size and yet he'd just... slapped me? "Did you just slap me?" I asked in complete and utter disbelief.

"Sí," he took his headphones off and glared up at me with brown eyes full of anger. "And I'll do it again, perro."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I frowned, "I could have you-"

"I-," he cut me off, shoving a finger into my chest, "-am cleaning this carpet. And you are a naked man yelling at me on a Saturday morning. I don't give a shit if you're God himself but you don't get to come in here swinging your dick around me like that."

"I'm the owner of this house!" I shouted.

"Oh, good," he smiled sarcastically, "Are you also the owner of some pants? Because you'd better put them on right now before I'm tempted to kick you in the nuts."

"But-"

"If you have any complaints, I'll listen to them when you're dressed. Until then-" he put his headphones back on and picked up the vacuum cleaner again, "-Let me do my fucking job in peace."

I blinked, struggling to comprehend what had just happened while the tiny man got right back to work as if he hadn't just slapped, insulted and shouted at me when I was basically his employer.

I didn't know whether to kill him or to laugh. Plus, he seemed completely unbothered- as he had gone back to humming his song happily, even dancing as he continued vacuuming the carpet.

So I went back upstairs, feeling far too hungover to deal with all this.

I contemplated jumping right back into bed but then I remembered how he'd asked me to put on some pants.

"How dare he order me around in my own home?" I scoffed but ended up heading towards my closet.

I grabbed a random pair of shorts, put them on and went back to bed where I ended up falling right back asleep.

When I woke up, my entire bedroom had been cleaned spotless, except for the bed since I had been on it. I was shocked that I hadn't heard the guy walking around, and even more shocked to find the note he'd left on my bedside table.

'You're welcome, perro. Be sure to give me a 5-star rating. Muchas gracias- Santi'

"Santi," I whispered and immediately got up to grab my laptop.

I found him almost instantly on the cleaning company's website. His picture was right there, but he was smiling- unlike he'd been when I saw him.

I clicked on the image which led me to his page.

"Santiago Lozaro," I mumbled, reading his name. I took in the sight of his bright, brown eyes and those bouncy, dark curls. He looked so innocent- adorable, even. But he'd slapped me. "Hmm..."

I gave him a 5-star rating and sent a request to have him clean my house again tomorrow morning.