Page 41 of Out for Blood

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I brace myself against the counter off to the side, planting my forearms against it for balance, still holding my Glock, observing. This is Cassidy’s arena now.

The woman’s eyes flit between us.

She stutters, “I, I don’t know what you think you saw.”

Cassidy’s hand shoots out, grasping her jaw until her lips part.

“I don’t think,” she spats out. “I know.”

Cassidy inches closer; her voice deceptively kind, “Let’s try this again.”

She takes her time releasing the woman’s face, her fingertips trailing along her jawline in a gesture that almost resembles affection.

“Who are you working for?”

The woman’s throat bobs as she swallows, then shakes her head, “I’m nobody, I’m just staff.”

A knowing look crosses Cassidy’s features.

Then she stands up, hitting her thighs with both of her hands and turns in my direction a bit, “Ghost.”

I already know what she wants from me.

I shove off the counter and proceed to place the knife down on the metal tray nearby her, bringing it into view.

The woman freezes mid-breath.

Cassidy inclines her head, studying her like she’s something to be dissected.

“You were very focused when we walked in,” she states without a trace of emotion. “You’ve done this so often it doesn’t even register anymore, does it?”

Her stare hardens.

“That’s not ‘just staff’.”

The woman recoils, her head moving in frantic denial. “You have no idea, if I don’t do it, someone else will.”

“There it is,” Cassidy cuts in.

She crouches in front of her again, leisurely this time, making it known she’s completely in control.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The woman’s voice cracks, “They’ll kill me.”

“That’s not your problem right now.”

The room goes utterly silent.

“I am,” Cassidy reveals, her voice softens, somehow making the words more terrifying.

“And right now,” she admits in a whisper, “I’m the only thing standing between you and what comes next.”

Cassidy extends a hand toward the knife and holds it up closer to her face, inspecting it, specks of dried blood still on it.

The woman breaks.

“I don’t know names,” she wails. “Everything is compartmentalized; we receive shipments. I’m in charge of selection and packaging.”