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“Enough to paint the entire street with dead bodies. We caught two kids leaving when we arrived. I do mean kids. They were both clearly under eighteen. He also had two weapons on him as well.”
“So, we have a man with no scruples,” I stated before throwing several brutal punches to the man’s face and stomach, savoring every grunt he made and every cracking sound from bones breaking.
I hadn’t realized how much force I’d used until I noticed my knuckles were already bloody. Shit. I was out of practice. I’d need to change that. As he started to slide to the floor, I refused to allow him, jerking up completely off his feet before slamming him against the wall with enough force several items fell from the walls.
At least the son of a bitch was no longer smiling since I’d knocked out two teeth.
“I think it’s only fair that you learn who you’re dealing with,” I told the guy. He should know the name of the person about to end his life. “My name is Diego Santos, but I suspect you already knew that.”
“De mi cuerpo podrido crecerán flores y yo estoy en ellas y eso es la eternidad.” His muttering was difficult to catch but I heard him.
“What the fuck was that?” Ivan growled.
“From my rotting body flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity,” Jacob answered, which prompted a look of appreciation from Ivan.
The quote from Edvard Munch was one of my favorites for the Day of the Dead. At least the kamikaze bastards were consistent, which allowed me to know this was also very personal.
“Who are you?” I asked as I wrapped my hand around his throat, lifting his chin so he was required to maintain eye contact.
“Vete a la mierda.”
The ‘fuck you’ had jerked on my last moment of patience. I’d already known I wouldn’t get a response from the bastard, but I was more irritated than normal. I ripped up his shirt, confirming the same fucking tattoo. After I backhanded him, he immediately spit blood and bile on my face and shirt, which further pissed me off. I backed away, turning around before wiping my face. Only then did I take a long stride in Ivan’s direction.
“I told you the fucker was a pain in the ass,” he said.
“He’s nothing but a runner, knowing we’d come after him. What about the woman?”
He seemed surprised I wanted to know about Sabrina now. After glancing at the dealer, he lowered his head and his voice. “You might be surprised at what I found. She’s from LA originally, born and raised. Her father went AWOL when she was just a small kid, her brother dying of an overdose. I didn’t find shit on her mother. Sheriff Rose entered the police academy at eighteen, graduating with commendations, subsequently getting her bachelor’s degree in criminology as well. She has a very high IQ and has never been married. She lives from paycheck to paycheck.”
“When did she arrive in Alaska?”
“A couple years ago but after the academy she left LA, working in Phoenix before accepting the position here. This wouldn’t happen to be the woman you spent time with the other night. Would it, boss?”
“Yes, it would.” It was still entirely possible she’d known exactly who I was. It wasn’t boding well for the beautiful brunette. She would face additional punishment for not being truthful with me.
Something I would enjoy.
He grinned, grumbling in Russian. This time I didn’t bother to ask him to translate. I pulled out my silencer, shaking my head as another series of images rushed into the forefront of my mind. “Well, Mr. No Name. It would appear your usefulness has come to an end. At least you won’t be allowed to kill another kid on my watch. Anything on the license plate?” I asked Jacob,
“Counterfeit.”
I laughed, shaking my head. The game was getting out of hand. “Let me guess. You can’t find anyone arriving in town that should be of concern.”
Ivan chuckled. “Nyet.”
“Boss, he’s using his inhaler,” Jacob stated.
It took me a few seconds to realize what my soldier had just said.
“Fuck. No!”
As soon as I turned around, the dealer was already sliding to the floor, the inhaler dropping from his hand. While his body convulsed, he stopped moving altogether a few seconds later, which removed the satisfaction of killing the bastard on my terms.
“Jesus Christ. What the hell?” Jacob asked, obviously astonished.
“The stench of bitter almond?” Ivan asked.
“Yeah,” my soldier answered.
