Chapter 19
Specter
I’ve been standing in this alley for almost an hour waiting for the target to leave the drug house he’s currently at. I’m sure he didn’t slip by me somehow, but I can’t imagine what’s taking him so fucking long in there.
I glance at my phone again. No new texts from Phantom or Ghost, which is a good thing. It means everything is calm at Segreto. I’m still jumpy though. Still want to get back to Cashmere.
Twisting my neck back and forth, I blow out a slow breath, then light a cigarette. I need to focus. If he’s not out here in thirty minutes, I’ll need to switch tactics. I was hoping to be done with this job in time to see Cashmere dance, but I’m not sure that’s gonna happen.
Twenty more minutes pass before the target appears again.
He’s different than when he went in there, more disheveled.
He’s tucking his shirt into his pants in a hurry, glancing back and forth down the street before he reaches into the darkened doorway and pulls a woman forward.
Even from where I stand, I can see that she’s not willingly following him.
She looks cold, her hair is messy, and I’m pretty sure her makeup is running down her face.
What the fuck is going on?
The woman resists, trying to peel the target’s hand from her arm, but he’s rough with her, practically shaking her like a doll.
She doesn’t go easily though, leaning down to bite his hand and running when he lets her go.
She heads in my direction, and after a few seconds of shaking his wounded hand, the target stomps after her.
Oh, hello there.
The victim rounds the corner and smashes straight into me. She gasps, and I put my hand over her mouth, pulling her behind a dumpster. That’s when I notice that she is no woman. She’s a child. My blood boils as I tuck her behind me.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “But you may want to close your eyes.”
She nods, huddling as she kneels.
“Where the fuck are you?” the target shouts into the darkness. “I paid good fucking money and I’m not leaving without you.”
He turns the corner into the alleyway, but he’s looking in the opposite direction. When he turns his gaze to me, he squints, unable to fully make out my form in the darkness. Exactly how I like it.
“Is that you, slut?”
My jaw ticks. Just a little closer, you bastard.
“Go away,” the girl behind me yells, unknowingly luring the target straight to me.
He grins. “Now this doesn’t have to be this hard. I can give you a shower, clean clothes, some food. Better than what you were getting here.” He walks a little bit closer, but he’s smart enough to be hesitant.
I’m against the wall of a building, my gun locked and loaded in my grip, silencer on, not that anyone in this neighborhood gives a fuck or would react to a murder right before their eyes. Makes my job a hell of a lot easier that the target decided to visit this section tonight.
When he’s finally close enough, I step out of the shadows, my arm extended, and wrap my fingers around his neck, twisting him around and slamming him against the wall behind me in one swift move. He barely has time to realize what’s happening to him as I knock the air out of him.
“Hey, man, I just want my girl. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Marc Wiskowski?”
He pulls his head back slightly, gripping my fingers around his neck. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Answer me.” A small technicality, but I always like them to confirm who they are. Best to avoid any mistaken identity mix-ups like the one we dealt with years ago. I know it’s him. He matches the photo in his file, but I still like to hear it.
“Yeah, who the fuck are you?” he spits.
“You pissed off the wrong guy.”
Marc narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about? I don’t fucking know you.”
“Not me, jackass.” I glance beside him to see the girl still huddled behind the dumpster. I’m glad she hasn’t tried to run. There’s nowhere safe for her around here. “Ivan Pretova.”
Now Marc’s eyes go wide, and he struggles in my grip. “Oh, fuck no. You got it all wrong. I didn’t take the money. I just borrowed it, and I’m getting it back in the next couple of days. Swear. I just need a couple more days, man.”
“Not my decision.” I squeeze his neck until he coughs. “I’m just the messenger.” Raising my gun, I press the muzzle to his temple. “Normally, I wouldn’t take such joy in this, but watching you kidnap a child for fuck only knows what makes this a lot sweeter.”
“I wasn’t gonna hurt her.”
“Hurt comes in many forms.” I move my hand up to grip his chin harshly. “How old is she, you piece of shit?”
“Old enough to have hair on her snatch,” he snarls. As if that wouldn’t set me off.
I pull back and slam him against the wall, hard enough to make sure he knows he’s not walking away from this.
“I can give you the money,” he says, desperation bleeding into his gaze as he tries to catch his breath. “I still have some, and you can have it all.”
“I’ve been paid well for my services. Thanks, though. I’ll be sure to let Ivan know you offered.”
He starts kicking, which I expected. Even as his feet make contact with my thighs and shins, I hold steady, gazing into his terrified eyes.
Generally I don’t pass judgment on my marks.
I don’t really care what they did or didn’t do.
I was paid for a job and I get my job done, but this guy? This guy deserves to die.
I could have fun and let him run, but I’d rather get this girl some help and get back to Cashmere, so I whisper “Night, night” and pull the trigger.
The girl gasps, but when I look over at her, her head is bowed.
Blood and brain matter splatter the bricks behind us, and I lift the target’s head to make sure he’s dead.
His blank stare and gaping mouth make it very clear he’s no longer with us.
“Stay here,” I say to the girl as I drag the target’s body back to his car and leave him slumped in the front seat.
In this neighborhood, no one will dig too deeply into what happened. He’s in front of a known drug house, and apparently a sex trafficking spot. Did a lot of the heavy lifting for me.
I walk back to the girl to find her still shivering behind the dumpster. Peeling out of my trench, I wrap it around her.
“Come on.”
“Where?” she asks, gazing up at me with wide eyes.
“Safety. Do you have family or anything?”
She shakes her head. “Not here. My mom lives in Colorado.”
My jaw ticks as I lead her to my car. “How did you get here?”
She shakes her head again, clutching my coat around her shoulders. She’s barefoot and her blonde hair is a tangled mess. She’s wearing a tank top style dress and nothing else.
“I was invited to a party with some friends and this guy was giving us drinks and stuff. The next thing I know I wake up in the back of a van.”
“Alone?”
“No.” Her voice cracks. “There were two other girls, but I haven’t seen them again.”
“Do you know how long you’ve been here?”
She sniffs. “No, but it’s been more than two weeks. I was counting the moon, but I lost track.”
“Fuck,” I mumble. “Okay. I’m gonna take you somewhere you can get help. They can call your mom and get you some food and clothes. And you’ll be safe.”
She sobs, bowing her head. “Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
I help her into my car, then shoot off a text to Shadow letting him know what’s up and that I’m on my way to the Angel Shelter.
“What’s your name? How old are you?”
“Brittany. I’m fourteen.”
Jesus Christ. I grind my teeth as I pull onto the street. She was targeted at that party, and I don’t want to know what’s happened to her since then.
“Are there more kids inside that house?”
“I don’t know. I was by myself in a small room. They came all day and night. The men.” Her voice shakes and fury fills me. Kids and animals, man. Those are my triggers. Stolen innocence. It fucking kills me.
“And what happened tonight? With Marc. He was taking you somewhere?”
Brittany shrugs. “He said I was going to a new place where it would be nicer, but I knew that was a lie. I knew what he was gonna do. The same thing they all do.”
This girl should not know about these nightmares at her age. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but it won’t anymore. Okay?”
She sniffs, wiping her eyes. “You killed him.”
“Yep.”
“Because of me?”
“No, but it helped.”
“I don’t care that he’s dead. I’m glad.”
“I’d kill them all if I could.”
“It’s your job?”
“Yes, but, Brittany, I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Forget. All of this. When you get home, get help so you can forget this stuff and be a kid again. You deserve that.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “You’re a hero.”
I scoff. “Hardly, but you don’t deserve what happened, and I want you to remember that.”
“I’ll try.”
Twenty minutes later, I drop Brittany off at the Angel Shelter, lingering in the doorway as I watch Marla lead her away. She turns and waves at me, looking like the child she still is.
“Another one, huh?” Gabby asks me. She runs this place, and we often find ourselves bringing her people who need help.
“Caught him just before he threw her in his car. She’s fucking fourteen and from Colorado.”
Gabby, a tough older woman with white hair and stern eyes, nods. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her and get her home.”
“I know.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Thanks, Gabby. I gotta go.”
Walking back to my car with my trench over my arm, I glance at my watch. There’s still time for me to get to Segreto and be the one to drive Cashmere home.
Before I drive off, I shoot off a text to Phantom and Ghost.
Me: On my way. All good?
Phantom: If by good you mean incredible performances, then yes.
Ghost: No, dumbass, he means with his pretty boy. Yes, all good.
I don’t bother answering, I just toss my phone on the passenger seat and tear off for the club. I need to see Cashmere, touch his skin, taste his kiss, smell him. Fuck, I really am obsessed with this man, but I somehow don’t give a fuck. I want what I want, and I want him.