The code name that kept popping up when they least expected it.
The ghost in the machine.
Without warning, Boss ripped the duct tape off Black Widow’s mouth.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t so much as flinch, even though a bead of blood welled on her bottom lip where the tape had taken skin with it.
Graham’s gut revolted.
He knew what she was. A stone-cold killer who didn’t care about the line between right and wrong. Who saw no difference between murdering those who were guilty or innocent. But…still…
She spat out the soggy handkerchief Sam had shoved in her mouth the night before. Then, she licked the blood on her lip.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Her eyes locked on Graham like she was challenging him to speak up.
“You boys want me to talk?” Her voice was hoarse from hours of suffering with the gag. “Then you better be prepared to make me bleed worse than this.”
Graham stepped forward. Showing her the steel in him. Hiding his disgust with the entire business.
“One way or another, we will hear everything ya have to say ’bout Bishop.” He kept his voice low and steady but ensured she could hear its honed edge. “How much ya bleed before that happens is entirely up to you.”
She smiled then, her teeth tinged pink in the low glow of the flashlight in Boss’s hand.
“Well, now,” she cooed. “A Southern boy with a violent streak. You’re just my type, sugar.”
Something twisted in the center of his chest. Revulsion, maybe. Or just the echo of his mama’s voice saying, “Don’t ya never raise a hand to a woman, Graham Coleburn.”
“Why did Bishop hire you? What was his endgame?” Boss’s tone was as flat as West Texas.
She shrugged like she wasn’t tied up and two bad minutes away from this interrogation moving on from the talking phase to the fear and pain phase.
“Who cares? I failed. Which means, when it comes to your merry little band of brothers, all’s well that ends well, right?”
Graham leaned his shoulder against the concrete wall like he had all the time in the world. Like he was ready to settle in and really draw this thing out.
“Like ya said.” He kept his voice casual, conversational. “You failed. So there’s no reason ya can’t just come out and tell us what it was you were hired to accomplish in the first place.”
Her mouth twisted, and he saw the cruelty and callousness behind her beauty. “What’s in it for me?”
“What do you want?” Boss asked.
She turned from Graham and leaned forward as far as her restraints would allow. Her face was only three inches from Boss’s big thigh as she grinned up at the man.
“I want you to tell me how you found us. You knew where we were long before I called to give you the location of the money drop.”
“You’re not as smart as you think you are.” Boss shrugged and took a casual step back. Graham didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to be that close to the viper, either. “And we’re a whole helluva lot better than Bishop led you to believe. Obviously.”
Graham saw it then. The subtle narrowing of her eyes. The quick flex of her jaw.
Bishop was their ticket to getting her to talk. She blamed him for her current predicament. And a woman like her wouldn’t take kindly to losing her team or her freedom.
“Let me guess.” Graham kept his easy-like tone. “He told ya this’d be a simple job. Grab one of the women, hold her hostage, demand ransom, and then…what? Kill all of us who showed up for the drop?”
“He didn’t care how many of you I killed,” she hissed. “He just wanted me to leave enough of a mess so the authorities would have to investigate, and the clues would lead them back here. I was the one who decided to end all of you after that brunette bitch stuck a glass shard in my guy’s throat.”
