Page 91 of Reckless Woman
Eve Santiago’s one and only foray into undercover work infiltrating a human trafficking event in that hellhole didn’t go as planned.
“I thought the cops shut it down.”
“They did. It was bought by an organization soon after. Care to guess the name?”
“Vindicta.” I glance at the man who’s moaning softly. I hope he’s saying his prayers.
“We’ve already raided it. It’s empty. Evidence suggests it was recently vacated. Found a load of medical equipment so someone’s even sicker than him,” he says, jerking his head at Borodin.
“Anything else?”
“The man he works for, Igor Bukov, is head of security for the CEO of Vindicta.” Dante throws the knife down and wipes his hands.He’s going to need more than that to remove all the bloodstains.“Everything was arranged through Igor and Morozov. Now that Morozov is souring the ground six feet under, Roman’s turned his attention to another Russian. We find Igor, we find the putrid heart of Vindicta.” Dante follows my gaze back to Borodin. “He’s had a couple of hours to reflect on his crimes.”
“Not enough.” I grind my cigarette beneath the heel of my boot.
“Do what you want with him. He’s all yours.”
He hands me his knife, but I shake my head. I’ve only got one thing in mind for Borodin tonight.
Walking up to him, I yank his bloody dark hair back and look him dead in the eye. “Do you know who I am?” I murmur, resting the muzzle of my gun under his chin and forcing his head even higher. He whimpers and moans, but he keeps his begging to a minimum. “I’m the husband of the woman you shot like a dog in the street a couple of weeks ago.”
Fear flickers in his pained blue stare. I drink it in like it’s another bottle of whiskey.
“What did Igor say to you when he heard she’d survived? Was he pissed?”
“P-please.”
“Please, what? You want me to be merciful?” I jab the muzzle into his neck even harder, forcing his eyes to the ceiling. “Were you merciful to my wife? Were you merciful when you robbed us of our one and only chance to have a child?” Grief detonates somewhere inside, spilling into every vein. “You killed her moonshine,” I rasp, unable to stop it from spilling into my voice, too. “But I fixed her once, and I’ll do it again. No matter what she says. I just wanted you to know that before I blow the back of your head off and walk my dirty boots through your remains…you lost, you bastard, because failure is never a goddamn option when it comes to her.”
Letting go of his hair, I watch his head fall forward in defeat. A beat later, I’m firing four bullets into his stomach in quick succession to even up the score. I watch him groaning and writhing in agony for a moment, giving him a brief taste of what he did to Anna, before I’m firing my fifth and final bullet into his skull. Hell has a missing inmate, and the sooner he’s returned the better.
I’m filled with an uncontrollable rage.
The next thing I know, I’m chucking my gun across the room with a savage roar. The Glock scrapes across the concrete, shooting sparks. It hits the far wall with a crash and the warehouse falls silent. All eyes are on me as I turn and stride toward the door. The tin soldier is slipping from my grasp again, and no asshole wants to catch the tail end of what’s front and center on my face.
Dante follows me out, slamming his hand down on the car door as I go to open it up.
“What the hell are you doing?” I say angrily.
“How is she?”
“Waiting for me.” I resist the urge to shove him out of the way.
“Five more minutes isn’t going to make a difference.” He considers me for a moment before sliding his back to the door and folding his arms, blocking my route home to a cold hospital room, and an even colder shoulder, with six-foot-three of his dogged persistence.
My right-hand curls into a fist. I’m considering things in my head that I shouldn’t. I’m freewheeling into self-masochism. I’m thinking about the day the rocket hit our convoy in Afghanistan and I pulled him to safety. I’m thinking about a little boy’s innocence right before his mother hit the gas on the wrong side of the freeway.
I take a step away from him and run my fingers across my jaw.
“How did you know my wife and son had died that day?”
His face goes very still.
Is that surprise or guilt, Dante?I can’t fucking tell in the dark.
“I was keeping tabs on you.”
“I left the Marines three months before. Why didn’t you make your move then?