Page 35 of Angelic Vengeance

Calmly, I put a single gold bullet encrypted with the word ‘Angel’ into the barrel of the sniper rifle. Lowering my head to the firearm, I closed an eye and looked through the telescopic sight. The red dot appeared on the back of his head and without remorse, I pulled the trigger.

Kuznetsov’s body jerked from the recoil before falling face-first. His blood spilled from his head, the clear jacuzzi water now red.

Another easy, quick assignment.

Thirty confirmed kills.

Straightening, I began to take apart the riffle and pack up the equipment.

The metal door leading from the emergency staircase to the roof slammed open. A man – probably one of Kuznetsov’s bodyguards – raised his gun towards me and began screaming in Russian.

Before I could even blink, a hand holding a knife came from behind him. Without hesitation, the blade cut across his throat, and the man dropped the gun to grip his neck. As he fell to his knees and began choking on his own blood, I finally got a look at who was behind him.

The woman stepped over the man’s body as he twitched in a puddle of his own blood. Her stilettos clicked against the roof as she approached me, but stopped at a safe distance.Smart choice.

Her long platinum-blonde hair softly blew in the wind, despite the harsh current. She stood at the same height as me, watching me with doe-black eyes. I returned the gesture, not once breaking eye contact. Even while focusing on her eyes, it was distracting how red lipstick deeply complimented her olive skin.

“Thank you for sparing me the dirty work,” She spoke first, nodding towards Kuznetsov’s balcony where his corpse was still floating in the jacuzzi.

Except for my department, the only other people who’d want someone in the Bratva dead were the Italians. She could have been with the Outfit or Vegas Crew.

“Cosa Nostra?”

The corner of her lips lifted ever so slightly as she tipped her chin towards the unpacked sniper riffle behind me. “You a fed or something?”

“Or something.”

She nodded like what I said had made perfect sense.

“I appreciate what you did,” I confessed, signaling towards the dead man behind her. “I owe you.” Saying those words to a mob member was dangerous territory, yet it was something I felt I needed to do anyway.

She shook her head. “Iowedyoufor taking out that piece of shit Kuznetsov.” Extending her hand, she offered, “Francesca DeMone.”

DeMone.

The DeMone Family was at the top of New York’s Sicilian Mafia. The name alone brought death to the streets and their reputation even followed them overseas. Everyone in the underground criminal world feared them.

And she just saved my life.

“Maria Pérez,” I returned her killer smile as my hand took hers in a firm handshake.

“You know, the Family could use someone like you. For a more than decent price, of course.”

I knew I wouldn’t work for Ruiz forever – our trust had been broken a long time ago – but I couldn’t see myself walking away before cashing out. I’d once considered Ruiz a parental figure; now she was just my shitty boss.

Francesca gave me an understanding look, despite the lack of exchanged words. She pulled a card out of her jacket. “If you change your mind.”

I glanced down at the card she was holding out for me; the white material shining in the moonlight between her blood-red acrylics.

Before I could stop myself, I took it.

18 years old

This had been the craziest mission so far. I’d been in Austin when I got the phone call, so catching a flight to Mexico had been a no-brainer.

Business was handled and I’d done what I’d been sent there to do.

I dipped my head, avoiding a tree branch, when a road finally came into view. I ignored it and kept running towards the ocean. As soon as my shoes touched sand, I pulled my balaclava off and along with the rest of my clothes, shoved everything in my backpack. However, I kept my gun out, placing it in my boxer’s waistband.

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