“Not my girlfriend,” Max corrects, “A secret weapon.”
That makes me raise my eyebrows, “I see.”
We continue to hold each other's gaze, and I see a flash of dark hungry lust pass in his eyes. Brandon clears his throat, effectively slicing the growing tension. I shoot him a glare that holds the sharpness of a
stiletto dagger. What the hell is he, the quippy comic relief personality that is never serious until shit hits the fan? This isn’t a damn cheesy rom-com action flick, and it’s about time for him to learn I’m not a love interest, the guy does not get the girl, and there is no happy ending.
“I would need to continue to do my own work as well. As The Sparrow.” I state, it’s not a question.
“No.” Max scoffs. His short and sure response infuriates me beyond belief, so I count silently to five to collect my anger. They aren’t aware of my full potential, and I don’t intend on exposing my cards so soon when the game has just started getting good. Sure, they know I’m a skilled killer and that I am capable of defending myself, but they haven't the slightest idea of the weapon my father had built from me. They have no clue how lethal I truly am.
“Yes.” I declare. “If you want to keep my identity as The Sparrow hidden, that is. It’d be awfully suspicious when The Sparrow stops killing, while you gain a new assassin. Evenif the public didn’t know I’m an assassin for you immediately, eventually it’ll get out if I’m spotted on an assignment with you.”
“She’s got a point.” Brandon chimes.
I spare him a quick glance before I look back at Max. “Okay, you continue as The Sparrow, but you can’t go after any hits that are passed through our channels. You’re not stealing any money from me anymore.” Max demands. I only nod in agreement.
“Why do you kill?” Dean finally speaks. I shoot him a confused expression, because that is a loaded question. “You don’t get paid for the hits. Are you like a vigilante or something?”
I let a sly smile finally grow, “Or something.”
Before anyone can respond I ask another question, “Can I choose from the hits that come in for sparrow work?”
Max furrows his brows and narrows his eyes into little slits. “Possibly, but they’d have to be filtered and approved by me.”
“Fine.” I grit my teeth.
“Do you orchestrate the dealings of the Cambions?” The question falls from my lips, instantly regretting my word vomit and slap a hand over my mouth.
“Hell no,” Max barks. “We don’t fucking work in the skin trade. What makes you think we’d work with those sex trafficking bastards?” He has a furious look in his eyes, I don’t see a single sign of deception. He’s telling the truth.
“Just checking.” I shrug.
All four men give me a curious glance with something else lurking under their gazes… suspicion?
“What do you know about the Cambions?” Dean snarls, almost like their name is leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
“I know enough.” I cross my arms and straighten in my chair.
The Cambions Circle is the primary group controlling a prominent sex trafficking ring that stretches beyond the state of Washington. Last I heard they have finally breached the Texas border and are slowly creeping towards the east coast. It’s clear their goal is to take over the country. Who's to say they’ll stop there?
I believe that Max was being honest when he said they aren’t tied up with them, but the Cambions formed because of my father--it was his idea after all. After Kahl Hera’s mafia reign came to a ratherabruptend, I know Max took over and made quick changes that seemed to upset a few groups, but I’m not exactly sure what changed. After learning what I have so far, I can deduce Max cut ties with the Cambions. Even if he cuts ties with them, he’s still associated. If he was a good guy, he would have killed them off himself. Why did he stop at separation instead of execution?
Because of this, I will continue to keep them at arm's length. I have to admit that it makes me relax knowing they aren't directly involved. This could mean we may have a shared goal. But for the time being I’ll watch from the sidelines and keep my head down. I trust them as far as I can throw them.
Nobody says anything for a while, just silent glances and contemplation. But eventually, Max breaks the silence. “What will it be then?”
I take a deep breath and swallow the lump in my throat. Ignoring every figment of intuition screaming at me to run like hell, my answer shocks me. “I’ll join.”
Max nods but adds, “You haven’t asked about your cut.”
I shrug again and smile, “Money has never motivated me as much as bloodshed.”
A sinister satisfied look spreads on all their faces, except for Dean who seems to have a permanent scowl. Max stands and reaches his hand to me, I take his hand in mine for a firm shake and he says, “Welcome to the Karma Empire, Harpy.”
10
An Object at Rest, Remains at Rest
