“I know about the information you sold to the Italians,” I said, glancing down at him as he begged for mercy. “You’re not just a thief. You’re a traitor.”
“Please….”
I slammed the sharp edge into his neck and watched his body twitch. Each slam was more powerful than the last, and each one carried a word. “No. One. Crosses. Me. And. Lives!”
Blood splashed into my face as I struck harder and harder, my expression dark and cold. I didn’t stop until I finally severed his head from his neck.
Panting, I stepped back, shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath. His head fell off the base of the vehicle and rolled to my feet. I stretched out my hand, and Boris handed me a white handkerchief.
“Clean up this mess.” I wiped the blood from my face, then from my hands. “Find the others. Make sure none of them survive.”
He nodded, signaled the others, and then followed me to the car. My boots cuffed against the pavement as I moved with slow, measured steps.
Boris handed me a file mid-stride.
“What’s this?” I accepted it.
“Update on the girl from the River County Advocacy Center.”
“What girl?”
“The one poking her nose in our business,” he answered. “She reopened a case we closed two years ago.”
I flipped through her file and couldn’t help being impressed by her records. Lawyer and social worker at twenty-four, dedicated to chasing down the truth, wherever it was. Curious and dangerous. My kind of people.
“What does she know so far?”
“Not sure yet,” he answered. “But our man on the inside said she’s not someone we should underestimate.”
My eyes fell on a photograph of her.
Oval face. Green eyes. Golden-brown hair that seemed a little out of place. She was pretty for a potential headache, with faint freckles on her nose and a defiant look in her eyes.
The second I saw that picture, I knew she was trouble.
“Word in the streets is that a five-foot girl with golden-brown hair is asking questions she shouldn’t.”
“Interesting,” I mumbled under my breath, halting beside my black SUV.
“What are the orders?” he asked me. “Eliminate her or what?”
“Jesus Christ, Boris, relax.” I yanked open the backseat door. “Violence isn’t always the answer.” I slid into the car and raised my head to meet his intense gaze. “Bring her to me. Alive.”
He locked his jaw, as if unsatisfied with my order.
“I mean it, Boris. Not a hair on her head should be harmed. Understood?”
He nodded.
“Now, let’s go home,” I added softly. “I’m in dire need of a cold bath.”
He closed the door from the outside and walked over to the driver’s side. Boris got in, started the engine, and drove away.
For some reason, I was pleased and intrigued by this girl’s record and what she’d achieved at just twenty-four.
Her name was Kiera Jane, and according to what I read about her, she was a menace not to be underestimated. This girl had solved complex human-trafficking cases that sent some powerful men to jail.
She had a reputation for always seeking justice, no matter what. I respected her for that. The file said her curiosity wasn’t reckless. It was precise. That alone made her far more interesting than she realized.
