I ripped the fridge open and grabbed a beer. “Gonna need more than a penny to get shit out of me right now.”
Mav blew a bubble with his gum before popping it with his mouth. “All right, what if I give you a twenty?”
I snickered, cracking the beer open and closed the fridge door with my feet. Dee stood against the kitchen wall; his hands slid into his pockets like the unassuming motherfucker people knew him to be. That was what made him so good at his stealth work. That was why I had named him our Enforcer after our President had been slaughtered. And when Dante sighed, that damn noise held all of the stress that had been on our shoulders ever since Luca’s brutal death.
Fucking hell, I had been sure it was her. It looked exactly like her. I mean, down to the little button nose.
“Damn, Dante,” Maverick said with a smile.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m surprised you can get your hands in there with how tightly those pants of yours are painted on.”
I took a pull from my drink. “You asked for it, Mav.”
Dante snickered. “I know you’ve already taken to her, Mav. You’re ready to get your cock wet, aren’t you? Probably reminds you of your mother a bit?”
Mav paused the chewing of his gum. “Shut up, Dee.”
Dee pushed off the wall and walked toward him. “Soothing, and innocent?”
“I said, shut the fuck up.”
“With those cute little doe eyes of hers?”
Mav straightened his back. “What the fuck did I say about that shit, huh? Quit profiling me.”
Dee shrugged. “Funny that you think it’s a chore when it comes to you.”
“You stupid mother—”
“Enough,” I said curtly before taking another long pull from my relaxing drink.
The two of them turned to me, with Mav’s red face daring me to laugh straight in it. The guy was about as sensitive as they came, he had to know how easy the cheap shots were to get in with him. He was a great goddamn Vice President, though. Despite the fact that he was a bit of a pussy, he knew how to make calculated decisions without shelving his emotions. It was a trait not all of us possessed, and it was fucking useful in sticky situations.
Kind of like the one we had found ourselves in.
I drew in a deep breath before downing the rest of my beer and tossing the empty can into the trashcan. “Dante, give me your profile again.”
He shook his head. “You already know what it—”
I charged him, wrapping my hand around his throat and pulling him close. “Again, Dee.”
He slapped my hand away and cleared his throat. “The woman we are looking for is a recluse. Mid-twenties to mid-thirties in age. She much prefers watching her prey fall victim to her traps, so she’s liable to stick around and watch the death occur. She grew up without a family or a home, so she was likely in the foster system when she was younger, or even on the streets. She’s uneducated, nocturnal, and prizes her health above all else due to the nature of her mercenary ways. Because of her involvement with The Heretics, she’s no newcomer to the scene, so she’s probably been part of it most of her adult life, if not all of it. She works alone, with no ties to family or friends so that she’s not vulnerable should people attempt to pursue her.”
“I’ve heard enough,” I murmured.
Maverick sighed heavily. “We’ve had her in that basement for two days.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know.”
“We’ve had her for two fucking days. We took her off the street. Injected her with drugs to keep her docile because we knew she’d fight back, and hard.”
“I know!” I bellowed.
And yet, Mav still had the balls. “So, when are you going to admit that the profile doesn’t match who we’ve got in that basement?”
“This is why we’re bounty hunters,” Dante said plainly.
