Page 377 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I creep down a narrow hallway toward a sliver of light.

I can hear a thick Spanish accent coming from one of the rooms. I strain my ears to identify the number of voices, but there’s only one distinct one I detect. He must be on the phone.

Making his deals.

Ruining lives.

Fucknut.

But, I’m here.

Now, you die.

I slide along the wall, moving stealthily toward my target when a shadow flickers in front of my eyes.

If I’d have blinked, I’d have missed it.

So I stop and wait until it moves again.

This time I don’t lose a second before I fire off a few shots and hear a body drop to the floor like a bag of cement.

The silencer on my gun keeps Miguel blissfully ignorant for the time being, but I can’t waste any more time. Who knows how many more minions he’s got roaming the place?

That was rhetorical.

I don’t really plan to hang around and do a body count.

The sound of Miguel’s sinister laughter makes my skin crawl, and for the briefest second, my mind trips back to that night…

The one that confirmed my career choice.

The one that convinced me to dispose of bottom-dwelling pieces of trash like Miguel.

The one that never ceases to bring out the darkness I keep buried down deep.

My jaw twitches, and I wait for silence before I kick out my leg to bust open the door.

When it comes, I crash through the rotting wood frame

I wait until realization seeps into his fat face. He’s clearly living large in his new digs out in California.

“You know who I am?” I hiss at him as I step inside the door. The place reeks of cheap cologne, cigarettes, and weed.

“No.” His eyes widen when he sees my gun. “There is no money here.”

“I don’t want money,” I say. “I’ve already been paid.”

“What do you want?” he demands. “And how did you get?—?”

I nod my head toward the door. “You need to invest in better security. I took out one of your guys in the dark, for fuck’s sake. I may as well have been blindfolded and I still got him.”

He narrows his eyes. “You won’t get away with this. My men?—”

“I will fuck your men up,” I growl, stalking toward him. Right now, I am completely violating the job requirements. You never speak to the target. You just blow their skulls open.

Period.

But rage floods my insides, and I remember the screaming and the cries for help.

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