AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I know of a local widow who might be important enough, or rather rich enough, to warrant such a headline. One widow in particular who could be connected to all this.
Keys clicks a few more keys, pulling up a recent photo of the departed woman.
“Is that her?” he asks.
I dig deep back in my memory to that fateful night that my life changed forever. I hadn’t seen Sun Yi Kincaid in person that night, but there had been plenty of family photos lining the walls.
“Jesus Christ, I think it is.”
“You don’t think Bunny did it, do you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s possible. We should probably head over there and at least check it out. There might be a lead.”
Keys frowns and starts shutting down tabs and windows on the computer. “Bunny doesn’t use a silencer that I remember.”
“No, she doesn’t. Why?”
He shrugs. “The article says no gunshots were heard, even though the windows were open, and several neighbors were out walking this morning. It does, however, mention reports of a black Cadillac SUV being seen nearby.”
Oh, fuck. The Cobra.
“She wouldn’t go back there, would she, Kendrick? I mean, she hated that life.”
She did, but Bunny’s also smart enough to go where no one would think to look for her—even us. If that’s the case, though, how did Samson Ramsey know to go to the Kincaid home? No one knows where Bunny came from except me. There’s no way the Cobra could have tracked her to that house, is there?
My only hope lies in the fact that a couple of days have passed since the bombing. If Bunny did go to her mom’s house, maybe she only stayed overnight. Just long enough to get some sleep and regroup.
Chapter 25
Bunny
Cobra’s warehouse could use a woman’s touch. The vibes are totally off; it’s like he never even let his girlfriend Candy set foot in here.
The Burrow had a homier vibe. I may not be an interior decorator, but I knew how to make a place feel welcoming. The Burrow had everything anyone could want in a home: food, shelter, entertainment, medicine … This place? As far as hideouts go, it’s a shithole.
Expose plumbing and electrical wiring just scream “OSHA violation,” and he hasn’t even bothered to bleach the previous guests’ bloodstains out of the concrete floor and brick walls. He probably thinks it makes the place imposing and gives it a threatening aura, but it just looks sloppy. Honestly, a clean torture room is more impressive than a filthy one. I mean, if this room was spotless, I’d be terrified. There’s no mystery here, no flair.
It’s actually kind of pathetic, and I say as much to him.
He responds to my smartassery with a swift fist to my jaw. I give him the satisfaction of seeing my head whip around from the impact, but I bet he’s frustrated that there wasn’t an accompanying crack of broken bone. Pansy.
Kendrick wouldn’t have made that mistake. He would’ve done it right the first time.
The bone didn’t crack, but my jaw and cheek start to swell. I can feel it, and after a minute, I see it in my peripheral vision. That’s not going to be pretty in the morning.
It also makes me slur my next words a bit, which takes the bite out of them.
“Fuckin’ bas’ard, ya can’ even punsh right.”
Samson takes a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back, exposing my neck. A smarter girl than me might get scared at this point. A smarter girl would shut up and behave. I’m not super smart, though, and I’m also a bit of a brat. So, y’know, like any good brat would, I poke the bear.
“Listen, you fucking bitch! If you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll make sure someone shuts it for you.”
I give him my sweetest smile before spitting blood in his eye. Poke, poke.
My other cheek stings as he smacks me open-palmed. The echo resounds in the expansive warehouse, but I note that some of his gathered goons cringe at the sound. I guess he can’t afford hired hands with iron stomachs. If they can’t stand to see a girl get hit, they’ll be in for a world of trouble when I get free. I definitely won’t take pity on them for taking pity on me.
The Cobra scoffs and releases his grip on me before stalking off and exiting stage right. Most of the henchmen follow him, but a few stay behind. I guess they’re guards; they’re certainly not torturers. Too twitchy. I don’t know what they’re so scared of. They outnumber me five to one, and I’m tied up to boot. I’m not super threatening yet. To quote some anime or other, they haven’t even seen my final form. Or something equally witty.
