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Chapter Twenty-Four
Idris
We find the church they are using to hold the money, and we burn the stack, cutting them off at the source. It will piss them off and act as another warning. We are hunting them, nothing is safe from us.
We waste no time. We want to hit as many as we can before they spook and run. It will be harder to track them down then, whereas if they are all still in the city, it makes it easier. The news should filter through to some, but not all, before we get there, so I choose the farthest away for our next target. Not a lowly guard, but an investor. One who buys lots of girls and lets the traffickers use his clubs to help kidnap them.
Spider had a lot of people and details. It seems they were seriously investigating this before we came along. But now I’m the clean-up, and I’m good with that. They can focus on the American, the leader, while we take out everyone else who they haven’t already killed. This list is missing a lot of key players, so they must be dead.
This next one requires a change of clothing, or we won’t be admitted otherwise. Being an assassin is all about being adaptable. I may be huge and scary looking, which isn’t always the best for covert missions, but I have to be able to blend in when needed.
Like now.
Alena has to as well. She protests but then relents when I tell her it’s the only way to get to him. We hit the nearest shop, and money isn’t an object. I leave her to find suitable attire and select a suit. Luckily they have my size because I’ve used them before, and any shop the Clergy does business with knows to stock well. When I get back, buttoning the last part of my jacket, I still, my mouth drops open, and my heart skips.
She’s indescribable.
I’ve never seen her in a dress. She still looks better naked and covered in blood, but holy fuck. I may have to kill anyone who looks at her. She’s in a tight, form-fitting red dress. It’s deep red, like the colour of fresh blood, and the material is silk, draping enticingly across her curves. There’s a split up both sides, unashamedly showing off her skin and scars. The dresser is well mannered enough not to comment or look at them as Alena turns, checking out the back in a mirror. It’s backless, exposing her skin before the fabric begins just above her ass. Fuck, she looks good enough to eat. Her hair is combed and wavy instead of a mess, falling over one shoulder.
A gold flower holds the side back.
She must hear me because she looks over her shoulder, meeting my eyes. “I used to dress like this before. Now I feel like a Barbie doll,” she says with a scoff.
“But a fuckable Barbie.” I smirk as I run my gaze down her form. “Though I prefer chains and blood.”
The saleswoman doesn’t even blink, wearing a fake smile on her face. I dismiss her with a nod. “Thank you, please charge it to my card and take a generous tip.”
“Of course, sir,” she replies and rushes away, letting me know she’s uncomfortable. Alena turns, steps down from the podium, and strides over to me, comfortable in the heels and dress. It’s obvious she’s worn them before, even though she already told me. Each step reveals the length of her toned thighs all the way to her hips. She stops before me, smirking as she raises her chin. She reaches out and runs a nail down my suit-clad chest.
“You clean up nice too, though I prefer the bloodstained, holey jeans and your bare chest,” she purrs, her eyes alight with desire as her hand slips lower and cups my cock. I arch my eyebrow, checking the clock, but we don’t have time.
“Later,” I promise, grabbing her hand and tucking it through my arm. “We have a show to attend. I heard the ending will be killer,” I joke.
She grins. “Then by all means,” she replies.
* * *
The show is alreadyunderway when we arrive, the interval just finishing. I spot our mark instantly, sitting near the back in the wings with empty seats around him. In fact, the whole row is empty. It wouldn’t surprise me if he booked them all. His daughter is performing, after all.
Alena squeezes my hand and lets go, sauntering behind the row to the other end as I walk towards him. He doesn’t notice us, concentrating on the stage where they are dancing. The lights are low and the music is loud. He turns as I sit next to him, an annoyed expression on his thin face.
“That seat is booked,” he snaps as Alena sits on his other side, holding a blade in her hand. She digs it into his ribs, making him jerk and frantically look around before focusing back on me.
“Not anymore,” she retorts.
I turn to partially face the stage as his eyes narrow. He stops panicking, swallowing it back, and shows us exactly what kind of man he is as he relaxes in his chair, his voice low and pissed. There isn’t even a tremor of fear, he’s more annoyed at the interruption. I’m betting he’s regretting giving his guards a day off. “What do you want?”
“You know what we want,” she snarls, and with her eyes on me, she leans closer, pressing her breasts to his arm and licking the shell of his ear. “Your pain, your death.”
“Who are you?” he demands.
“Ghosts,” I reply, even as Alena says, “Your worst enemies.”
I glare at her, and she licks a long line down his face. He flinches, even as I reach over and push her back into her chair. “Touch him again, and I’ll be causing a scene. Understood, Bitch?”
She pouts but sits back, twisting the knife in her hands and making her fingers bleed. The man glances over and gags before quickly looking away while she giggles.
“What the fuck is wrong with her?” he asks. His eyes are on the stage, but his full focus is on her, like he dare not look too long in case she pounces on him.
