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“Shit, that’s an image I never want to see again,” Vladimir says, looking at his dead body. “You do good work. I take it you’ve seen a few actual deaths in order to recreate it so perfectly?”
I shrug. “I’ve seen my fair share.”
“You planning on continuing as an assassin?” I nod. “What does Delphine think? She doesn’t see what you do as being wrong or dishonorable?”
“She’s fine with it as long as I take out the men and women who add no value to the world.”
He nods slowly. “Women are often more practical than men.”
His comment makes me chuckle because he isn’t wrong. Men often think we’re the ones who approach a situation with logic and detachment while operate on emotions only. But sometimes women surprise us with their cold-blooded approach to life.
“Ready?” I ask. “You’ve got everything you need?”
He picks up his bag and jiggles it, letting me know he’s set. As he heads for the door, my phone rings. Vladimir turns around and waits for me to take the call. He’s likely hoping to hear Pirate has the name of the client who ordered the hit. But it isn’t Pirate. It’s Hex. I put it on speaker.
“We’re finishing up here and I’m on my way,” I tell Hex.
“Don’t. The building’s a bust.” The anger in his tone is palatable, but before I can ask, he continues. “They must have gotten wind that we were coming and cleared off. But that’s not why I’m calling. The women are gone. Our women. Cleo, Delphine, and the others. They were waiting in the SUVs. Levi’s down. Lake’s tending to him. Levi said Irish ambushed him. We think Irish took the women. We just don’t know where.”
I lock eyes with Vladimir, who drops his bag and pulls out his vibrating phone.
“I’m still with Vladimir. Someone’s calling him,” I tell Hex.
Vladimir picks up, but listens quietly before saying anything. “Do what you can to get them off the ship. We’re on our way.” Vladimir ends the call and turns to me. “I have a guy on the inside who is close to Maxim. He confirmed Maxim has the women. We need to get over there and get them off that ship before it sails.”
“You’re taking a risk,” I remind him. “If someone sees you…”
“No one will see me who shouldn’t,” Vladimir says. “Besides, this may work out better than my original plan.”
CHAPTER THIRTY: DELPHINE
“Irish, why are you doing this?” Cleo asks him, her voice surprisingly calm considering she’s staring into the barrel of a gun.
“I have no choice,” Irish says, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Why do those who make bad choices always claim that they have no choice? There is always a choice. I don’t say the first part out loud, of course, because I’m dealing with a man too close to the edge.
“Of course you have a choice,” I tell him. “Why would you turn on your family?”
“My family?” Irish says with a sneer. “The Demon Dawgs aren’t my family. They’re just using me to get free labor. They won’t make me a member.”
“Well, not anymore,” Sasha says. I shoot her a look, but she gestures toward the gun. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Shut up!” Irish yells, causing Sasha to jolt.
“Why would you think the guys won’t patch you in? You’re a prospect. If they didn’t believe you could earn your patch, you wouldn’t be a prospect,” Cleo says.
“They brought Levi in and they’re giving all the important jobs to Jack,” Irish spits out.
“They brought Levi in because they’re always looking for potential members. They didn’t bring him in to replace you. As for Jack, he’s been there the longest and has earned their trust,” I explain.
“And I haven’t? I screwed up and Mikel escaped. Since then, they don’t trust me.”
“That’s not true,” Cleo says. “If they didn’t trust you, they would have kicked you out.”
“They make fun of me and tell me I can’t do anything right,” Irish whines, and this time, I can’t stop my eyes from rolling.
“It no longer matters what they thought of you before, because you’ve made yourself their enemy with this stunt,” I say, using my best mom’s voice. “They’ll know you kidnapped us and they’ll hunt you down no matter where you go. If you want to live, pull over and leave us. We’ll convince them to let you go. That’s the best option you have now.”
“No, it’s not,” Irish says, straightening his shoulders and glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “I have another option. One that will give me enough money to get out of the country and live my life doing what I want, rather than being an errand boy for a bunch of bikers.”
