Page 35 of Risky Passion

A different kind of repair work, I supposed: fixing my broken world, one corpse at a time.

"Okay, Hughes, you only get one shot at this. Make it count."

"I will," he said, looking right at me, like he was holding an ace. "And you better keep your promise."

"Like I told you. Once those Alpha bastards are dead, I'm out of here, and you're a free man."

He nodded, gripping that fragile thread of hope as if it might save him. I was always amazed at how men staring down death still clung to my words. Maybe they couldn't believe a woman was capable of cold-blooded murder. In my youth, they fell for my smile and fake charm. Now they saw an old woman and thought I was harmless. The more they underestimated me, the more they believed they would walk away alive.

I pulled the hypodermic I’d prepared this morning from my pocket and grabbed his arm. He thrashed as I drove the needle into his bicep.

“What the fuck!”

I pressed the plunger home.

"Insurance policy." Grinning, I tapped his cheek. "Don't fight it, Hughes. You’re taking another little nap, that’s all."

“You’re a total bitch. You know that?”

“Stop with the flattery.” I winked. “It’s time to put on your act.”

I placed Doctor Lurami’s phone on speaker and dialed the Alpha Ops HQ number.

"Alpha Tactical Ops," Billie’s voice sang through the speaker, all chirpy and happy – like a new mother should be. Out of all of them, Billie was the only one I felt a connection to. She was also fucked over by a man. But she got her revenge when the boss who ruined her career was exposed for the bastard he was.

"Help! Help me," Grant whispered, his voice splintering. "Please . . . it’s Grant Hughes. I . . . I’ve been kidnapped."

“Grant Hughes?” Billie said.

“Yes. Is Aria there?”

“Yes. Hold the line.” I imagined Billie sprinting toward Aria’s office, which would no doubt be huge.

"Where are you?" Aria’s first question came fast, confirming she knew he’d been taken from the hospital.

"I don’t know," Grant stammered, his voice trembling. "I’m in a huge, abandoned warehouse, and I think it’s near the ocean. I can smell saltwater. It looks like they used to repair boats here."

His words tumbled out in a rush, desperation dripping from every syllable.

Aria would know this place. This was the warehouse where my boy, Thomas, had tried to end Ryder Westwood’s life. But Ryder had slipped through his fingers, and poor Thomas had paid for that failure with his life.

The line went silent, and I could almost hear Aria piecing the clues together, marking the location, mobilizing her team.

A small part of me couldn’t help but admire Aria. She was at the top of her game, commanding loyalty and respect from her men, who obeyed her commands. It was ironic that she’d killed one of the men I’d had on my kill list for decades—Frank Morgan, Aria’s father and the asshole who had made my life at Angelsong Orphanage pure hell. The sadistic monster who had owned me for decades.

"Who took you?" Aria asked, her voice sharp, cutting straight to the point.

"It was B. I told you she’d get me,” Grant said, his words growing thick as the drug kicked in.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know. She wore a mask." Grant studied my face like he was memorizing every wrinkle, ready to describe my looks to a police artist later. I didn’t give a fuck. He wouldn’t be alive long enough for that. "I don’t know who she is, but she’ll kill me."

His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

I had to hand it to him, Grant's acting was good. Then again, he'd pretended to be a Good Samaritan, saving gorillas in the Congo Jungle, while secretly laundering billions for our criminal empire. His hardworking parents devoured every lie about their precious son.

Faking it was just part of the criminal toolkit.

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