Chapter 10
My left hand slips on the smooth, cool glass door of my shower, and I groan my little mouse’s name while shooting my cum all over the glass. Warm water cascades down my back, providing a soothing comfort as I open my eyes with a contented sigh.
But then I take in the mess I made and curse under my breath. I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to this, jacking myself off like a randy teen. And it’s all because of her. My cock twitches again as her face flashes in my mind. With a shake of my head, I push her out of my thoughts and focus on cleaning up my mess on the glass door. Despite just cumming, I’m already getting hard again.
Shit, maybe I just need to fuck her out of my system, but I already swore her off. The first time with her could be excused, since I had no idea who she was and how she was related to my niece. Hell, even that time in the study last week could be excused. I was sexually frustrated, and she was there, provoking me. It could happen to anyone. But a third time? That would be unforgivable.
I turn off the water and step out of the shower, roughly drying my body with a towel as I make my way to the bedroom. The bedside table clock reads 10:23 PM. I already know I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, so I get dressed and head to my home office.
For the next half hour, I try to check on things within my company, replying to emails and making calls. But that damn mouse keeps worming her way back into my thoughts. With a frustrated sigh, I finally give up and pick up my phone, dialing Nolan Kilpatrick’s number.
It’s almost 11 PM, which means it’s only 8 PM on the West Coast. He answers on the second ring. “Maksim. Is everything okay with Bree?”
Of course, his first concern would be his daughter. “Yes, of course,” I quickly reassure him. “As far as I know, she’s probably sleeping in her apartment right now.”
He lets out an audible breath of relief. “Good. Then, to what do I owe this call?”
I hesitate briefly, then get right out with it. “I want to ask you what you know about the girl staying with Bree.”
“Cecilia? She’s Bree’s friend from college. The girl can be a little jumpy, but from what I’ve seen, she’s a good person and good for Bree. Why? Do you suspect something?”
Other than the fact that she isn’t Bree’s friend from college?I sigh instead. “Bree brought her to one of our classes and has been pleading with me to let her join the rest of the lessons, so I just wanted to hear what you think of her.” Not a lie. But not the entire truth either.
“Ahh. Bree did mention it to me before they left home. I told her it was entirely up to you. I don’t know much about the girl, but I think she’ll benefit from the lessons as well, especially if she’s going to remain by Bree’s side.”
“Yes, I’ve come to the same decision.” I thank him for his time and end the call. As suspected, Nolan clearly trusts his daughter too much. And who can blame him? If I hadn’t seen that video recording of the two girls talking myself, I’d have a hard time believing that Bree would lie to protect Cecilia.
I slump deeper into my chair, feet drumming an impatient rhythm on the floor. With a grunt, I snatch the documents on my desk needing my signature. I stare at them blankly for a moment, then toss them down again and dial my investigator, Keir’s, number. What”s taking him so long to get back to me? At least we have the correct name now.
“Mr. Smolov. I was about to call you myself.”
“Did you find anything?” I ask without wasting time.
“I’ve just barely been able to scratch the surface. Someone’s paying the big bucks to make Cecilia Bianchi appear as if she doesn’t exist.”
“What do you mean?”
“Neither myself nor my contacts could find anything on her. I had to get a seasoned hacker to jump through several hoops just to find the little we have, and even that is nothing.”
She mentioned someone in her past chasing her. Could he have done that? “Send what you found to me.”
I end the call, and almost immediately, his text comes through.
KEIR:
Cecilia Rose Bianchi. 23. Abandoned in front of an orphanage when she was three years old. Parentage unknown.
After that, another text comes in, going into a little more detail. She graduated from high school as the valedictorian and went to a community college where she bagged a communications degree summa cum laude.
ME:
That’s it?
KEIR:
For now, sir, yes. But we have more than enough to get us more leads. I’ll visit her high school, her college and the orphanage she grew up in. I’ll be sure to have more information for you next time.
I frown at the text. This guy is the best, so for him to come up empty-handed means the person Cecilia’s dealing with has some serious power. If I ask Rian or his wife, Roz, to look into Ceilia for me, they’ll probably be able to find all the information I need faster than Keir. But do I want to put Cecilia under their radar? The answer is no—not yet, at least.
I’ve made two calls, and I don’t feel any better than I did before them. I need to leave the house. Get into some action. A fight. An excuse to beat some people up. Something. I search for Dante’s contact on my phone and hit dial.
“Sir.” His voice crackles with strain and the distant sounds of a commotion filter through. I sit up straight, anticipation prickling.
“What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m a few blocks away from the Brooklyn Garden Elementary School. One of my men caught a dealer giving the kids free samples.”
“What?” Elementary kids? That’s a new low. My men and I may not be upright citizens, but like Cecilia guessed, we live by a code. Women and children are off-limits. “Has the fucker squealed yet?”
No way an operation like that could’ve been done alone. That dealer must’ve had some backup. Dante hesitates, and my brow twitches. “Well? Has he talked?”
“We lost him,” he admits in a low voice.
“You mean to tell me you had this fucker in your clutches and you let him get away?”
“We’re tracking him down as we speak. Before he could give us the slip, one of my men planted one of Mr. Kilpatrick’s trackers behind his ears.”
That’s the high-tech tracking fluid Rian invented last year. It sticks like glue to any surface and can last up to a week before falling off.
Dante continues, “He has no clue we’re tailing him. The bastard will lead us straight to their den.”
I relax a bit and exhale. This could be a good development. “Send me the coordinates. I’ll meet you guys there.”
We end the call, and the coordinates come through immediately. I follow the link to my map app and watch the moving dot. “That’s right, asshole. Lead us to the rest of you rats.”
I burst out of my apartment with excitement and wave off the men making a move to follow me. Those lowlifes are mine. I ignore my cars and go straight to my motorcycle. It’s faster, and I need the adrenaline.
I place my phone in the stand between the handles so I can see the fucker’s location while driving. Then, I put on my helmet and get on the bike. With a kick to release the brake and a turn of the ignition, I’m on my way.
By the time the fucker stops moving, I’m practically on his heels. I park my bike a block away and scan the Lower East Side street, noting Dante and the rest of my men haven’t arrived yet. Good.
My blood boils as I approach the abandoned warehouse. It’s dark and quiet, and for a moment, I wonder if that fucker has brought me to his own hideout until I turn a corner and see them right there. Easy pickings for a seasoned predator like me. I watch them for a few minutes, strategizing the best way to take them down. I don’t know which is the guy from the elementary school, but it no longer matters. They’re all dying tonight.
There are about a dozen or so men, some huddled around a fire, others loitering about. Why don’t they have someone guarding the entrance? Are they just that cocky about being undetected? Or are they amateurs?
I step out of the shadows, clapping in a mocking rhythm. They all turn to face me, some jumping to their feet. A few of them are clearly wasted. High on their own shit? I shake my head in disgust. This is too easy; I’m almost disappointed.
“Who are you?” one of them demands, separating himself from the group to confront me.
“Are you the one in charge of this operation?” I counter. The dumbass shakes his head and actually points to a man leaning against the wall a few feet away. Someone smacks him on the head, muttering angrily. Likely scolding him for revealing their leader. I raise an eyebrow in amusement.
“Why are you here? You don’t look like you want our snow white.” The leader, a cocky bastard with his arms folded across his chest, watches me with a smug expression. The rest of his men chuckle in mirth.
I let out a bored sigh. “Ha ha. Laugh it up while you can. It’s going to be your last night alive. Who wants to go first? I don’t have all night.”
The men exchange glances, then erupt into laughter once more. “You seem to be lost, old man. This isn’t the poker hall,” one fucker shouts among the crowd. Their laughter echoes through the warehouse.
“How disappointing,” I mutter. Every single time. These fuckers and every other asshole I come across always find a way to make a dig at my age. Can’t they try to be original for once? No matter.
I move fast and grab the first fucker, the dumbass who pointed out the leader. With one hand on his skull and the other beneath his jaw, I snap his neck to the right. He crumbles to the floor with a thud. Dead.
There’s a moment of stunned silence before the rest of them rush toward me screaming.
I grin. Yeah, this is more like it. I barely break a sweat as I take them out like the vermin they are. While I clear out the trash, I keep my eyes on the leader. He’s trying to maintain a calm fa?ade, but I can see the fear in his eyes. His feet are tapping nervously, almost as if he’s contemplating making a run for it. But he knows he can’t escape with me blocking the entrance.
Suddenly, a blow to my temple from the side sends me reeling. Pain shoots through my skull as I drop to my knees.
“Not so cool now, huh, old man?” the moron ambusher taunts, standing over me with a block of wood in his hands.
“Maybe,” I murmur, raising my left hand to swipe at the blood trailing down my temple. While he’s distracted by my left hand, I discreetly move my right hand to my boot where my knife is always holstered—but it’s not there.
For a moment my mind blanks. Shit, my knife. Then I remember. I gave it to Cecilia this morning because I only brought one knife for Bree to practice with and she needed one as well.
She didn’t give it back.
I sigh.
“Now that you’ve got me on my knees, what are you going to do?” I ask the man panting in front of me.
He looks around at his fallen comrade. Only him and the leader remain. “I’m going to–”
“Byron—” The leader cuts him off, speaking for the first time. “Why don’t you tie up our guest so we can question him?”
Byron nods frantically, and as he turns his head—probably to look for a rope or something—I jump to my feet and seize the wooden block from his hand. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, I smash it on his skull. Blood splatters against my face and neck as Byron crumples to the floor in a heap of limbs. Shit, I didn’t mean to kill him so quickly. There must’ve been a nail somewhere in the wood.
The leader’s eyes go wide and, as he starts to back away from me, footsteps rush in from behind. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Dante and my men. Just in time too.
“Mr. Smolov—” Dante’s voice trails off as he takes in my bloody appearance and the dead bodies littered on the floor.
“That’s their leader,” I say, pointing to the man cowering in front of me. “He’ll answer all our questions if he doesn’t want to join his colleagues.”
“I don’t know anything!” he screams, his voice cracking as tears rush down his face. “I don’t know anything. I just receive a text from an anonymous person when the goods reach the border, and I go pick it up for distribution. Then I send him his own share of the money through an offshore account, I swear. Please. I have a sick mother.”
I click my tongue in disappointment. What a coward. “He’s telling the truth,” I tell Dante. “Take his phone from him. We’ll find this anonymous supplier.” As soon as Dante has the phone in hand, he shoots the fucker between the eyes.
For the first time, I take a good look around the warehouse. Where could they be hiding the rest of the drugs? I know there must be more around here somewhere. I should’ve asked that coward while he was still alive. My men work around me, cleaning up the dead bodies and preparing to take them to our cremation yard. Meanwhile, I make my way to the wall. There’s something off about this place.
I place my palm against the peeling edifice, trailing my fingers along its weathered surface as I navigate the warehouse. Halfway through, my hand comes in contact with a bump. Bingo. A hidden doorway. I turn the handle and the door swings inward. Walking inside, I’m greeted by towering stacks of drugs placed against the wall. But that’s not all.
There’s also a large desk with two computers. I walk around the desk so I can see the screen. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s not footage of three different elementary schools in the area.
My stomach churns as I realize the true extent of this operation. These sick bastards were purposely targeting kids. What the hell? There’s a folded map next to the mouse and I unfold it to see different schools marked. The schools they plan to hit, or that they’ve already hit?
Fuck, how long have they been doing this? And how did they stay undetected?
Dante’s whistle breaks through my thoughts as he enters the room behind me. “My men and I will dig deeper into the anonymous supplier and any other drug operations they may have in the city.” He waves the phone we confiscated in front of me.
I nod. My work here is done, but my blood is still boiling with adrenaline. The fight was not enough of an outlet. Fuck, I could’ve been in trouble if I had to deal with actual professionals without a weapon.
My knife.
The same knife that’s currently in Cecilia’s possession.
Fuck.
I believe it’s time to visit my little mouse in her tower. My heart thumps in anticipation and my pants tighten around my crotch.
“What should we do with the drugs, sir?” Dante asks as I walk out of the hidden room.
“Burn them.”