Page 31 of Crossover

“Are you CIA?” I demanded.

“No.”

Given the broken protocols, I figured as much, but it was helpful to confirm Daniel had gone off the books with this one.

“You part of an organized crime family?”

“No. I’m an independent contractor.”

“A hit man,” I clarified.

No denial.

“Tell me everything. How were you contacted, what was the job, what were you told to do…and make it quick.”

I listened as Elliott recounted the details of Daniel’s operation—a team of mostly non-CIA members with a couple of ex-agents and a skilled hacker, who had tapped into Hunter’s surveillance and intercepted cell phone reception. Their orders were clear—take the target alive and bring her here.

Elliott didn’t ask why this girl was a target, which made him the most dangerous type of criminal on the street—the kind that didn’t live by any kind of moral code, killing and harming indiscriminately, so long as it paid.

As I finished extracting every piece of intelligence from him, I paused before asking my final question.

“What was your specific role in this?”

“Wh-what?”

“Answer the question.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I…I got her into the van.”

“You abducted her,” I clarified, my voice calm and cool, even though, inside, my muscles boiled with rage.

His chest rose and fell faster.

Maybe he could sense my hesitation. It’d be faster to shoot him and be done with it.

But this guy…he’d made Ivy’s worst nightmare come true—a nightmare she’d had since the attempted kidnapping at thirteen. I could only imagine the horror she went through when, this time, her abductors successfully got herintothe vehicle.

How scared she must have been.

When she’d told me that story, I’d vowed to find whoever did that to her and make them pay.

In the meantime, this asshole had caused a fresh wave of terror in her life. Not to mention the pain from whatever they’d done to her before I arrived.

For that, he’d pay.

I grabbed his chin and squeezed his cheeks. “When I’m finished with you, you will be begging for death.”

I stood up, shoved my gun into the back of my waistband, and walked over to the fallen tool they had been using on Ivy.

“Please,” he whimpered, like the pathetic bitch he was. “I’m not the one who used that on her.”

“But you did nothing to stop it. Hurting Ivy was nothing more than a job to you.”

“Please!” His voice became more desperate when the satisfying hiss of the flame came to life. “Don’t do this!”

But he hadn’t stopped them from making Ivy cry as they burned her flesh, so I turned it on and drew the flame closer to him.

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