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The money too great, the opportunities too easy.
And plenty of women and children to choose from.
A light coming from one of the large rear windows made him go solid. He figured the property had motion-activated security cameras and spotlights so he needed to be careful. He didn’t care if he got caught on camera, that was a given, he only cared that he wasn’t recognized.
He’d watched the house for the last two days. He’d memorized the pattern of the occupant. The broker was a creature of habit.
Not good for him, but good for Shade.
The kitchen went dark and another window lit up at the other end of the house. The man was settling in with a bourbon and his nightly television.
But not for long.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As soon as Shade had sent that text to Chelle, he had shut off his phone, tucked it into his sled’s saddlebag and left his Night Train in the car rental company’s parking lot. He left his phone behind mostly because he didn’t want Judge tracking his location. He knew the enforcer would do just that once Shade didn’t show up for work that following Monday.
But he also didn’t want to be distracted by texts and voice messages. He was pretty fucking sure his phone was full of them. They would just need to wait.
Now he’d been gone for twelve days. It had taken less than two weeks to track down the men on his list and exact revenge for ten years’ worth of abuse. Twelve days seemed a flash in time in comparison and the men on his list died easy deaths when they should’ve suffered like their victims had.
But at least they wouldn’t create any more victims. That was the most important part. The world would be slightly better without sick fucks like them. However, the men on his list were only a tiny fraction of those types of motherfuckers who existed.
Everyday people lived in their bubble, unaware of the dark underbelly of the world. Unless it directly affected them. Shade thought back on how many times he could’ve been saved but people didn’t want to “get involved.” It wasn’t “their business” and turned away.
Yeah.
The saying was “see something, say something,” not “see something, turn a blind eye.” But, again, unless that “something” touched their lives directly, most people couldn’t give a fuck.
Shade gave a fuck.
He gave a huge fuck.
Which was why he now had the broker tied to a kitchen chair waiting to take his last breath. The last person on his list, the one who had paid the men to snatch his mother and him in a mall parking lot twenty-six years ago before turning around and selling them for a profit.
The man had already pissed his pants at the sight of Shade’s knife. He’d also denied knowing who Shade was, which shouldn’t surprise him. “Sam Miller,” one of a multitude of names the man probably used, most likely couldn’t remember all the souls who passed through his hands.
Or he didn’t care.
Or both.
But after a little bit of poking at the guy’s memory, Miller final remembered a boy named Julian and his mother, Cecelia. Though, Miller didn’t remember their actual names because he never asked, he only remembered the circumstances surrounding them coming into his possession.
Because as it turned out, it wasn’t random.
Not random at fucking all.
Shade pressed the sharp tip of his Bowie knife against the pad of his index finger, keeping his eyes glued to the ten-inch blade as he slowly turned it. The overhead light caught the flat side of the blade twice with each revolution, and he made sure that reflection would hit Miller directly in the eyes.
A reminder to the asshole of what was to come.
“He didn’t say anything about a kid. I swear!”
“Only my mother.”
From the corner of his eye, Shade noticed Miller also watching the rotating blade.
The man’s Adam’s apple lifted to the top of his throat and dropped back down. “Yeah, you weren’t a part of the deal,” he insisted.
The deal. “What was the deal?”
“To grab the woman. That’s it.”
Shade tilted his head and studied the knife. The blade had a fresh edge to it since he’d sharpened it only last night. “That’s it?”
“He wanted a percentage once she sold.”
“Like on consignment?” Shade lifted his gaze from the blade and stared at Miller. When he didn’t get an answer fast enough, he repeated, “On consignment?”
“Yes... Sort of.”
“He say why he wanted my mother to disappear?”
Miller shook his head. “The less I know the better.”
Right. “He say what to do with her son? A four-year-old boy?”
“He didn’t. Again, he didn’t even mention him...” Miller paled even more, if possible. “You.”
“He know you had her son, too, before the auction? He get a cut of what you sold me for?”
That question hung in the air between them for way too long.
