Huntley shivers. His lips press together again, and he nods. “Okay,” he whispers.
I slide closer to him so I can press a kiss to his lips. Hopefully, it conveys my confidence and assures him I’ll be home. This scumbag will be dead.
“Are you going now?”
I nod, though I didn’t plan on leaving until dark. This man needs to suffer as long as possible, but he’s going to die before the sun comes up tomorrow morning. “Yes. I have my phone if you need me. Okay?”
He nods.
“Don’t be afraid for me.”
Huntley smiles, though it’s still nervous, and he doesn’t answer. His arms around me when I hug him are almost painfully tight. Even so, he lets me go and gives me a curt nod. I’m not sure if it’s his desire to know this man is dead or his determination to trust me when I tell him to that has him putting on a brave face.
I walk out of my apartment as the sun begins to set.
The warehousewhere we conduct our business is in the middle of the industrial district in Anaheim. It’s still in operation, producing paper twenty-four hours a day. There’s always business going on. There’s always noise.
Noise enough to cover screaming in the basement.
The basement isn’t accessible from the factory itself. Only through an abandoned tunnel that looks derelict, though wekeep it maintained and passable. The factory itself is owned by Van Doren Technologies, but not in name. The deed and trail that lead to the bank accounts are convoluted at best and can be dumped on a moment’s notice.
Nori is waiting in the surveillance room, swinging back and forth in her chair as she stares at the monitors. “Hey, boss,” she greets without turning around. No doubt she watched me approach through the tunnels.
“Hello,” I return and take a seat beside her. She’s watching a man in the big room tied to a chair, just like a cheesy gangster movie.
“His name is Peter Palmer-Davies.”
I tilt my head. “I know that name.”
She nods. “You should. He was once a politician, but before he turned to politics, he was a Baptist pastor. He’s well known for loudly vocalizing anti-LGBTQ, submissive women, white supremacy, and eugenics for those who aren’t Baptist Christians.”
“It’s all coming back to me.”
Nori looks at me, nodding. “He’s not surprised at being caught. He hasn’t fought. No screaming. No pleading. No threatening. It’s as if he knows he’s reached the end of the line. Almost as if he’s ready for the release from this world.”
“That takes the fun out of it.”
“I agree. I’ve been watching for literally any sign of… anything. But he’s been doing just this. Looking around without interest. It’s rather disappointing.”
“You’re sure this is our guy?”
“Yes. A witness identified him. One of the victims he shot recognized him, too. He was caught on security cameras.”
“And yet, the police didn’t bring him in.”
“This man has connections and money.”
“Has he talked?”
Nori shrugs. “I’m a person of color, a lesbian, and a woman to boot. He’s not about to say anything to me.”
“I should let you kill him then.”
“I’m certainly hoping you’ll let me be a part of it. I’d love to be the last thing he sees before he dies. I’m everything he hates wrapped up in a cute body.”
I smile as I get to my feet. “Let’s go then.” There’s a wall of knives just inside the door, and I grab one of the hunting knives with a serrated edge. Yep, always going to be my favorite.
My footfalls echo in the stone hall following Nori’s. While we don’t see or run into anyone else, there’s never less than a handful of my crew here. Monitoring. Dealing with business. Research. Watching the video feeds.
