An anger and a disgust that Greystone had never known, surged through him. He’d never heard such intense hatred and utter disrespect toward a woman.
Ever.
He wanted to rip off Haqazzii’s limbs, then let Slash pull her knife and quarter him like a butcher, but he stood rock still. She was an extremely competent and capable BLACK OPS.
“Strike two,” she said, her voice as confident as before. “You’re filled with rage and hatred. You can’t believe we stupid, fucking Americans caught you. You strut around our country planning your mass murders in plain sight. Who’s the stupid fucker now? You’re not thirsty now. You’re not hungry either, but you will be. Last chance for food or water.”
He spit at her. “Bring me the man in charge.”
“Strike three.”
The next few seconds were a blur. Slash grabbed her knife, flew around the table, yanked his head back, and stuck the tip into his neck. Blood trickled, disappearing inside his shirt. “You’re a dead man, and I can promise you, there are no virgins waiting to fuck you in heaven.” She glared at him. “Youaren’t going to heaven.”
On a growl, she released him and walked out. After Dakota left, Greystone stood there staring him down.
Haqazzii had just sealed his fate. He was a dead man, and it would be anyone’s guess who would take him out.
