Page 2 of Depraved

Sarge's voice dropped low. "We've got a lead on Gage. He's been spotted."

My breath caught in my throat. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. "Where?" I managed to choke out, my grip on the phone tightening.

"San Diego. One of our guys recognized him at a cafe downtown. He was meeting with someone—we're not sure who yet. But he's there, Layla. We've finally found the son of a bitch."

A conflicting blend of emotions churned inside me—rage, anticipation, a twisted sort of excitement. And underneath itall, a tiny flicker of something I refused to name. I ruthlessly stomped it out.

"Fuck," I breathed. "I'm on my way back now. Just have to take out the trash real fast.” In one fluid motion, I raised the gun and squeezed the trigger.

The silenced shot was barely louder than a cough. Javier's head snapped back, a small, neat hole appearing in the center of his forehead. His body crumpled to the ground, blood and gray matter splattering the grimy brick wall behind him.

I watched dispassionately as a pool of crimson spread beneath his head, soaking into the grimy concrete. The coppery scent of blood filled the air, mixing with the stench of garbage and urine.

"It's done," I said flatly into the phone.

Sarge cursed under his breath. "Jesus Christ, Layla. I was going to tell you to bring him in alive. We could've used him."

I shrugged, though he couldn't see it. "Too late now. You should've led with that instead of the Gage info."

"Just... get your ass back home. I'm sending a cleanup crew for Javier."

"Roger that," I replied coolly.

I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. For a moment, I simply stood there, staring down at Javier's lifeless body. The pool of blood had spread, soaking into the cuffs of my jeans. I'd have to burn these later.

With practiced efficiency, I pulled out my gun once more. The sleek black metal gleamed dully in the dim light of the alley, the attached silencer a menacing cylinder protruding from the barrel. I'd had this particular piece custom-made—a beautiful, deadly work of art.

I aimed carefully at Javier's head, lining up the shot. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the night sky, already starting to glazeover. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, stark crimson against his sallow skin.

The trigger was smooth under my finger as I squeezed, the recoil barely noticeable. Two more muffled coughs from the silencer, and two more holes appeared in Javier's skull. Insurance—can't be too careful these days. I probably should have felt slightly bad, but Javier was a traitor, and he deserved a traitor’s death. Anyone who went squealing to the feds did.

I holstered the weapon and turned away, leaving Javier's cooling corpse behind me. The cleanup crew would take care of disposal. Right now, I had bigger fish to fry. I reached my car and slid behind the wheel, pulling out my phone once more. As I navigated out of the maze of narrow streets, I dialed Alex's number.

"What's up, killer?" he answered on the third ring, voice thick with sleep.

"Wake up, pretty boy," I said, pulling onto the main road. "We've got work to do."

Alex groaned. "It's the middle of the fucking night. Can't it wait til morning?"

"Nope. Sarge has a lead on Gage. He's in San Diego."

There was a pause, then the rustle of sheets. "Shit. You sure?"

"One of our guys spotted him. We need to move fast before he slips away again."

"Alright, I'm up. What's the plan?"

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, mind racing. "Book us flights to San Diego, earliest one you can get. I'll swing by and pick you up in a little over four hours. Pack light—we may need to move fast."

"On it. See you soon."

I sped through the dark streets of Juarez, my mind racing as fast as the car. After two months of chasing shadows and false leads, we finally had a real chance at catching Gage. The betrayalstill burned, but now it was tinged with a sick sort of excitement. I loved a good chase.

The sleek blackAudi purred as I guided it through the winding roads leading to the Cortez villa. The moon hung low and heavy in the sky, lighting up the gorgeous New Mexican desert landscape.

As I approached the guard towers, two armed enforcers stepped out of the shadows. Their hands rested on holstered weapons as they peered into my car, faces impassive behind dark sunglasses despite the late hour. I rolled down my window, the cool night air rushing in.

"Evening, boys," I drawled, flashing my ID. "Miss me?"

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