Page 8 of Vicious Hearts

There are five men in the room. Huddled in a cozy little circle by the window, chatting like they haven’t got a care in the world. And they probably think they don’t. Five men who don’t expect me to walk into the room, their faces morphing to shock then concern when I walk through the last door protecting them from the outside world. Where monsters lurk.

They don’t expect me because I’m not supposed to be in the States; according to their intel, I’ve gone into hiding deep in the jungles of South America. Where they believe I’ll remain until a rogue group of bounty hunters they sic on me bring them my head. On a platter. Literally.

My presence here today lets them know they’ve miscalculated and underestimated me. They thought they were safe in their beds late at night as they lay their heads down on their pillows and started to snore their problems away. That’s because I’m not supposed to be here. Ican’tbe here, because I’ve been exiled from my own country of birth. But I’m here, and I didn’t fly into the country in the conventional sense. I took a chopper from Mexico and landed on the helipad atop one of my many yachts parked in US waters. Which they don’t need to know about. No matter what they do, they cannot keep me out of my own country. I will beat them at their own gameevery single time.

“We have a little unfinished business, gentlemen,” I say, walking into the room rapidly, my shoes tapping against the wood melodiously. I feel like breaking out in a tap-dance just to throw them off their game some more. But I won’t.

They look at me like they’ve seen a ghost, then they start to bluster over each other, protestations and accusations flying so rapid fire that I can’t keep up. I don’t care which one is to blame for my ultimate demise, they’ll all pay the price. But I can’t hear myself think above their whining, so I hold up a hand to silence them as I come to a stop at the head of the table. Where I belong.

They thought they’d be meeting with a new supplier today. Assholes. Didn’t they know no one can possibly offer them what I have to offer? In the quantities they need. At the price they’re willing to pay.No one.And anyone that claims they can is either stupid or most likely planning an attack on my empire. Both are probably accurate, because only a stupid man would dare attack my infrastructure.

These five men, with their pompous asses and bottle blonde wives. With their appointments to highly coveted positions within the US government. Living in secure houses in gated communities that are meant to keep out monsters. But don’t they know that they can’t keep all monsters out?

Their corruption seeps into the very fabric of society, and I may be no angel, but they’re the lowest of the low. The minute I found out who they were supplying my arms to, I pulled their contract, effectively cutting off their supply and the horrendous amounts of money they made from selling my guns to known terrorist groups.

“Gentlemen,” I address them, though there’s nothing gentle about them, and I don’t consider them men. I can see that Whiteley will be the first to fall. There is a fine film of sweat curling under his nose, and the color has drained from his face. I haven’t earned my reputation off the back of traitors.

“We weren’t expecting you,” Daniels says, straightening his back until he’s standing at his full height. It’s a move meant to intimidate me, but it falls flat; I’m still a head taller than him. He’s the ringleader in all this, the one stirring the pot and maneuvering the group’s decisions like they’re his puppets.

“Yes, I can see that.”

I allow my eyes to drop from his face to his suit and all the way down to his shoes. He’s wearing his Sunday best. A meeting with a possible vendor would call for nothing less. The minute Attila called to tell me they’d approached him with a proposal, I’d known that they’d stop at nothing to not only rid themselves of me, but to see to it that they tainted my name. That’s why I had to stay one step ahead and beat them at their own game.

“How are you even here?” Whiteley rasps. His face blanches. He’s heard the stories. They’ve messed with the wrong man.

“That’s right. You thought a little thing like Interpol would keep me out of the country?” I smirk at their stupidity. They started out small, but I know they’re going to migrate to something bigger in their miserable attempts to ruin me.

They’ve made a massive mistake if they think I’ll just keel over and go away. Because I won’t; no matter what they do. They’re going to use any means possible to keep me at arm’s length, but that too will result in failure. I hope they at least don’t insult me by commissioning the small timers to come after me. I know I’m worth more than that.

“We had adeal,” Kitson reminds me, transferring the blame squarely to my shoulders. Anything to justify their despicable actions.

“We had a deal,” I agree “Before you decided to arm terrorists. That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

“It’s a lucrative business,” Whiteley stutters. “We can cut you in.”

It’s a stupid offer, so I laugh. A deep rumble that emanates from the depths of my chest. The sound lingers in the air, and I can literally see the shivers that cascade down Whiteley’s spine. He’d be right to be afraid of me. I don’t enjoy being made a mockery of – which is exactly what they did when they went behind my back and sold my product to dubious criminal entities.

“Why would I need you to cut me in when I’m the one with the product?” I ask him. “You don’t think I could sell direct to them if I wanted to?”

“What do you want?” Daniels asks. The other two are quiet as they watch on in anticipation. Men in high places think they’re untouchable. They’re sadly mistaken. The only untouchable one in this room is me.

“We had a deal,” and I throw Kitson’s words back at him. “You broke that deal. But you still need to pay the debt you owe for the last transaction.”

Daniels gives a haughty shake of his shoulders, like he’s preparing for battle. He opens his mouth to speak, but promptly snaps it closed when I hold up a finger and indicate silence. One finger is all it takes to shut him up.

“Think very, very carefully about what you say next, Daniels. Or I will make you wish you’d never heard the name Caleph Rojas.”

* * *

The minuteI’m in the car and zooming through the streets of Seattle, I call Attila.

“You’re in business,” I tell him, and I can envisage the evil smirk that crosses his face at hearing the words.

“You think they’ll pay the money they owe?” he asks me.

“They have no intention of paying it and every intention of destroying me.”

There is silence on the other end of the phone. Attila doesn’t want to hear about how some lowlifes are intent on killing me. He doesn’t want to hear it because he probably just wants to rip their throats out. He’s saved my life too many times for me to count, and although I owe him, he’d do it all over again, and just as easily.

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