Prologue
VAUGHN
I have a list half a page long sitting in front of me.
One name after another of men who clearly need to die.
I know that Theron and the others want to drain their accounts, they want to do all this sneaky ass shit, but I want to kill them.
It’s my therapy.
Watching people who deserve to die…
die .
Knowing that I couldn’t do shit to them back in the day, but I can now.
I’m the one in charge.
I’m the one in control—me.
Not them.
Never them.
Never again.
Death is the only peace that I can find when it comes to the dregs of the underworld.
Hell, most would probably consider me one of them, too, but I’m not.
Sure, I’m a hired gun.
I kill really fucking bad people so that I don’t hurt anyone else.
Because the desire to have complete control through pain is there, I know that it is.
I am not a monster, though.
Taking my anger out on the bad guys seems like the best thing that I can do.
And I only take the jobs where I know the person deserves to die.
Which sounds hypocritical, but I don’t give a shit.
I’ve been through some of the worst things that a person can go through, and all of the men of Securus have, and this is how I deal with it.
I cope with it this way, by killing the men who need to die and getting paid handsomely for it.
Except this list.
This list is personal.
I’m doing all of this as a favor, as therapy.
I’ve made so much money doing this that I never have to work a day in my life.
I could give away my share of Securus and not even blink.
The first thing that I do with this list is open the file that Lucille started on the Target.
I’ve taken care of a few already, one in Miami and one in Rhode Island, but this one is a haul.
He’s in California, and I’m about to go and take care of him there.
He’s not a politician.
He’s the chief of police of a mid-sized town.
He’s corrupt.
He’s been trafficking girls on the side.
He was on the thumb drive that Nadine gave us—associated with her estranged husband and her.
Disgusting human.
Nadine is a fucking angel of a woman and to be used like that---to be treated that way.
He should die.
They all should die.
His offshore bank accounts have already been drained, along with his domestic ones.
But it’s not enough.
Taking his money isn’t enough.
I’m going to need to watch him bleed, and I’m going to need to be the person who ends his life.
Clicking through the file, I pause on the image of his daughter.
Most of the people that I take care of either have little kids, no kids, or grown kids.
Seeing someone who does this shit with kids turns my stomach.
But when my eyes scan the image, it stops on the girl in the picture.
Girl, woman, I don’t know.
But she’s stunning.
Her eyes peer into my goddamn soul.
Gray and intense.
I want to learn more about her.
I want to keep her.
Fuck .