“I didn’t take you for the stalker type, but I’ve been told I fuck well enough to tempt women.”
I shoot her a lazy smile. It doesn’t distract her from my gun. However, her bravado doesn’t waver. She responds with a shrug of her right shoulder.
“I didn’t know it could take so little to get your attention.”
“It’s either that, or someone sent you to kill me.”
I’m certain she’s considering whether she can survive me shooting her if she tries to make a break for it. My gun’s muzzle presses against her upper ribs. She remains quiet, looking straight ahead.
“What do you want? Who sent you?”
She doesn’t react to my questions, giving me the silent treatment.
“Are you wondering how I got into the car when you locked it?”
Not even a shrug this time or a frown. Her expression is impassive.
“You know, the data grabber on the yacht isn’t the only tool I have at my disposal. If I got into this car that easily, then you must know what else I can do. Yet, you’ve underestimated me twice. Seems rather foolish. Do you think you’ll live long enough to do that a third time?”
Now that I’ve encountered her more than once, I’m certain she knew what I was doing when I went below deck on the yacht. I don’t expect her to respond, and she doesn’t. I’ll do the talking then, and I’m fine with that.
“So, Tiffani with an i…”
She blinks at that. Not a flinch, but it was something of a reaction. Probably my tone because it’s so mocking.
“You’re a mercenary, and I can think of a few people who likely hired you. You know your line of work makes you fair game. Normally, I’d never intentionally hurt a woman, but it’s a gender-neutral occupation once a mercenary’s caught. If I’m your mark, then you know the family I’m from. That’s why you came to our club and watched us at the gala. You know our reputation is earned, not given. You know the role I play in my family and what I could do to you.”
When she finally turns to look at me, it’s as though she can see straight into my soul and knows I’m bluffing about this. Not that I wouldn’t torture a woman, but I wouldn’t torture her.
“You shouldn’t assume, little one, that you know anything about me, even if you got a full dossier when you took the job. You wouldn’t be the first female mercenary I’ve killed without remorse.”
That’s the truth. There’s nothing I won’t do to protect my family. I’ll kill at any and all cost. If they’re a threat, then they deserve to die. It will always be us before anyone else. That doesn’t mean I’m eager to make that the truth with the woman who sits beside me.
“Tell me what’s going on, and perhaps I’ll spare you and make it a quick and easy death, maybe even painless.”
She turns away from me and stares out the windshield again.
“You know, even POWs give their name, rank, and serial number before they give their captors the silent treatment.”
Her nostrils flare, and she looks at me this time. “I didn’t realize cartels complied with the Geneva Conventions.”
“We don’t, so I’m not worried about being charged with war crimes for what I’ll do to you if you don’t cooperate.”
Silence yet again.
Tedious.
I sigh.
“So, it’s really your choice. How difficult do you want to make this? It doesn’t have to be that bad.”
“You won’t shoot me in here. Blood splattered across every window will be obvious to anyone looking in this direction. You won’t get out of the car covered in my blood. The real question is how difficult doyouwant to make this? Call the police and get a restraining order against me for stalking. I followed you to New York because I concocted a fantasy of us being together.”
“Concocted a fantasy is right. You know I won’t be the one to die. You know there isn’t a chance in hell I’m going to the police about anything. Though you flatter me once again to suggest you’d stalk me for my pretty face or big dick. Why would I take out a restraining order to keep you five hundred feet from me when I can keep you away permanently without a paper trail?”
I’ve been told I give off BDE—big dick energy. I was told I was BMOC—big man on campus during college. I didn’t let my family association keep me from playing Division One sports, captaining the chess club—yes, I’m a nerdy jock—or being treasurer of my frat. I would’ve run for student body president or president of my frat, but that was asking for too much attention. Why anyone thought they should allow me to be in charge of the money is beyond me, but I never stole from my frat brothers. I made them a shit ton of money instead.
“You’re not going to let me get out of this car, so what I want is irrelevant. I’d say I’m being pretty fucking compliant right now.”
