Page 28 of Scarlet Mark
Silence met my execution, Amara cowering beside the vehicle, her eyes wide.
I removed my earplugs, pocketing them. “Don’t move,” I told her, making my way toward Boris. He seemed to be missing a hand, courtesy of the remote.
And wouldn’t you know? The cocky bastard wasn’t even armed, having relied on all his men to protect him with their street-purchased weapons.
Poor form, really.
This entire job had been a fuckup from the moment it had started.
He groaned, his good arm wrapped around the damaged one.
“I’m sorry. Did I forget to mention that only my thumbprint can activate the device? My bad.” It was a fail-safe should the intended mark ever steal the gadget from my grasp. Or in this case, an asshat. “So what was the plan here? Take the girl back and kill me?”
“F-fuck you,” he spat, cradling his stubby arm against his blood-soaked chest.
“Ah, I think you meant that for Amara, who, by the way, will never be touched by you again.” I pressed my boot to his neck. “Now I’m going to ask you again. What was the plan here?”
He sputtered another expletive that had me tsking.
“Perhaps you’re not hearing me.” I released his neck to crouch down beside him, a blade slipping into my hand. “I just took out nearly two dozen of your men in less than twenty seconds.”
“You’re insane!” he yelled.
“You would not be the first to level that accusation at me. But I have to ask, who is more insane in this situation? Me for defending myself, or you for thinking you and your men had a chance against me?”
He growled, fury causing his nostrils to flare.
“I didn’t catch that, Boris. Was that supposed to be an explanation of sorts?” I pressed the blade to his inner thigh, slicing right through his black jeans to meet his skin. “Or do you need an incentive to start talking?”
I punctuated the point against the side of his balls, eliciting a shriek from him just as his pocket began to vibrate.
“Ah, I wonder who that could be.” I fished the phone out to eye the name on the display.
“You’re going to play along, Boris.” I settled the knife against him. “Or you’ll lose your sack.”
He grimaced.
“Sayyes,”I told him, my finger hovering over the Accept button.
“Yessss,” he hissed, his black eyes blazing with a mix of rage and terror.
He was totally going to botch this up, but that was what I wanted.
I selected the Speaker button, saying nothing.
“Is it done?” a sharp voice asked. One that matched the name on the ID—Senator Malcom Jenkins.
I cocked a brow at Boris, who seemed to be struggling to make a decision.
The crinkle of his brow alerted me to his choice before the words started spilling from his mouth. “He took out all—”
I sliced through his groin with a shake of my head and sighed. “That’s not what we agreed upon, Boris,” I said, wiping my blade on his thigh and enjoying his gurgling screams. They truly set the tone for the conversation to come.
I stood, switching off the speakerphone and pressing the device to my ear. “Really, Senator, you need to pay for better help.”
“Mister Bedivere,” he replied, his tone surprised. “I’m confused. Has something happened?”
“I don’t know, Senator. You tell me.” Because the last time I checked, he was supposed to send payment in exchange for his runaway bride. Not send a horde of amateurs to take me out.
