Page 69 of Hell Hath No Fury

Lip curling in disgust, she says, “People are sick of you all interfering in our business.”

“I can assure you, none of us interfere with legitimate aboveboard business. That’s not our style.”

Rolling her eyes, she states, “Did you think you could rob us of millions of dollars and get away with it?”

“Did you think you could get rich off the backs of innocent people and get away with it?”

She stares at me angrily, obviously not accustomed to prisoners who always have an answer, which means she didn’t do any real research before deciding to snatch me off the streets.

It also occurs to me that I’ve been spending way too much time around the fuck-around crew because I never used to be this mouthy.

Staring at each other silently, likely both waiting for the other to speak, we’re at an impasse. Suddenly exhausted, I turn and walk back to the mattress I was previously lying on, looking around for a sheet or towel, anything to wrap around myself. Finding nothing, I turn back to Irina. “Can I get a robe or something?”

She goes to reply, but we’re interrupted by a new arrival. An older man walks directly to Irina, whispering into her ear. Irina smiles broadly, clapping her hands as she says, “Splendid. Bring her right in.”

The man departs, and Irina turns her eyes to me. “You won’t be needing one for a while.”

“I won’t?”

“Nope,” she responds. “We’re gonna put on a show for the masses. Got a solid audience lined up already. Record-breaking turnout, I suspect.”

I frown. “What kind of show?”

“Oh, you know,” she responds quite happily. “Show a little skin, shed a little blood. The best kind of show.”

Again, I frown, though I’m sure the look I’m giving her is more haughty than angry. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Mrs. Petrova. I fear I’m not as astute as normal, given the cocktail you’ve force-fed me.

She stops smiling, her lips twisting as she explains, “We’ve got a pay-per-view video link up so people can watch the illustrious Antonio Rossi further victimized by the harlot Lilith Ferro.”

This should bother me much more than it does, a true indication to me of how incredibly fucked up I am. “And the blood?”

“Only the grand finale of the entire event.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

She gives me an impatient look, then adds, “We get to kill you, violently.”

I sigh tiredly, then mutter, “So that’s a no to the robe?

She makes an annoyed sound, taking a half step toward me before catching herself. Then she clears her throat and shakes her head, excitement shining in her eyes. “It’s showtime.”

Shit.

31

Where the Past and Present Collide

Lilith

Well,thisisawkward.

I knew when I got the video of an obviously drugged-up Antonio naked in bed that things were about to get fucked up. No one takes a criminal kingpin off the streets and then sends out a video of them being abused without a nasty agenda in mind.

Knowing this, I still went directly to the address given and followed the lackey deeper into the building, unarmed and likely unprepared.

Because that’s the dumbshit stuff we do for people we care about. We go into ridiculously dangerous situations for the slim chance we may be able to save them from harm.

The room is overflowing with people standing all along the perimeter, where it’s dim. The main lighting floods the center of the room, partially blocked from view by an older woman standing quite arrogantly with her hand on her hip.

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