Page 7 of Dangerous Vengeance

“Got it.”

“Don’t let me down, Matty.”

“I won’t.” He doesn’t even say goodbye; he just hangs up. It’s a clearcut job. I have my work cut out for me too: find the boss and make sure he knows nothing, then get rid of him.

The next few searches produce instant results. Carl Sheffield lives in Scarsdale and commutes to work daily. That’s only another twenty minutes north of where I am now. He’s probably sitting around his family home sipping wine and chatting with his beautiful wife and kids. He has no clue that allowing Natalie to proceed with her ridiculous story means he’s going to pay with his life. I almost feel sorry for him, but in this line of work, rules are rules. When you learn about Bratva inside information, you either join us or you die.

In this case, we have no use for a mid-level manager at a newspaper.

I stand and push my call button. Flynn, one of my soldiers, is on standby tonight. I like to have at least a few guys ready to aid me at all times and tonight is no exception. I walk to my closet and pull out a dark hoodie and slide it on. People expect me to wear suits and slacks, but when I am on the hunt, dressing down is more appropriate. Besides, if I get blood on my good clothes, it’s hard to get out.

“You called?” Flynn says from the doorway. He sounds winded, as if he ran to get here. I like that energy.

I turn and nod at him. “Yes, I need you to keep an eye on our guest. She’s in the room at the end of the hall next to mine. She should be finished eating soon. Keep her company gently until I return. Don’t lay a hand on her unless she tries to escape, but do not hurt her or kill her. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Anything else I can help with?”

I reach into my pocket and produce the key to Natalie’s room, placing it on his open palm as I pass by him. “Yes, have Peter bring the car around.”

I walk into the foyer and head for the front door. I pass the hall closet where my shoes are stored and sit on a bench to don a pair of sneakers. They’re old, used in more than one event like this, and I know the treads are so worn they won’t be recognizable. It’s the only reason I keep them around.

In less than five minutes my car is parked out front, and I am climbing in. Sheffield won’t suspect me coming, which makes this all the more sweet to think about. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve had a run-in with the man or the paper either. A few reporters last year tried to do an exposé on us, and we had to quiet them. Except, back then they really knew nothing, so it was easy to shuttle them off to a different city with promises of fame and fortune. They never knew the offers came from us either. But Sheffield knew, and we threatened him to keep him silent. So far, it has worked, so I wonder why he’d turn on us now. Does he have a death wish?

I meticulously plan what I’ll say as I drive. And for twenty minutes all I can think about is protecting my family. And Natalie—the curve of her ass beneath my hand as I smacked it hard. Next time she’ll be more pliable, less rigid. And all because now I know she wants it, and now I know what she likes. It’s no wonder she’s never given herself over to a man before. She’s an erotic little vixen who wants to be tied up and spanked. Just the thought of that makes my dick twitch.

I pull up in front of the Sheffield house and shut my car off. Lucky for me the front door is unlocked. It’s such a safe neighborhood here, despite the fact that it’s not a gated community. I bet they don’t see any crime, that people mind their own business and folks feel safe in their own homes. Until some creep like me wearing a dark jacket with the hood up walks right into their home on family movie night and pulls a gun.

“Hello, Carl.” I chamber a round and stroll right into the room. Carl and his wife jolt off the couch, gathering their two children to their arms. “I suggest you send your wife to the basement.”

Carl glances at the end table where his cell phone lays. I look at it and pick it up, turning it over in my hand. The thing is as good as a brick now. I drop it and smash it under my foot then flick the tip of my gun and nod.

“Basement…” I repeat and Carl looks terrified.

“Who are you? What is this?” He herds them like little lost sheep toward a door beneath the stair leading up to the second floor. When he opens, I see the steps descending to the basement.

“I’m just here to talk, Carl.” I shake the gun again and a very frightened Mrs. Sheffield nudges her children down the stairs, following them with a look of terror on her face. Sheffield shuts the door behind them, and I say, “Lock it.”

“There’s no lock.” He backs away, hands raised, so I walk a few paces into the dining area and grab a chair from beneath the table. The white wood is immaculate, as if no fingerprint has ever smudged the surface. I thrust it at him, and he uses it to pry the door shut.

“In there,” I tell him, gesturing back toward the family room where the movie still plays. It’s dark in here, lights low to enjoy the show, and I’m certain the wife and kids haven’t seen my face, but Sheffield will, because I can’t have him threatening my family anymore. He has to know that he’s crossed a line. “Sit.”

Sheffield plops obediently onto the couch and stares up at me in horror. “Why are you doing this?”

I fold my hood back carefully and reveal my face to him. His eyes widen in revelation, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. He’s terrified. “What do you want?”

“You see, Carl, I thought we had an understanding a few years back. We sent those good boys off to LA to do their investigative reporting and we made a deal with you. You keep your reporters out of our business, and you’ll be fine. Except, you have Natalie Yates sniffing around our family.”

“I can explain, okay—”

“Oh, I’d love it if you would.” I wait a second, but he remains quiet. “See, the way I see it, you were supposed to make sure no one pursued a story like this again. But not only has she been snooping into our family for years, but you are letting her run with the story now? In case you didn’t realize it, we put a wiretap on her phone. She never did get to meet that source.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the silencer for my Glock, screwing it into the barrel.

“What source? I knew nothing about a source.” Sheffield pisses his pants. I chuckle. They always piss their pants.

“Hmm, well maybe you don’t know as much as I thought you knew.” It doesn’t change what I have to do tonight though.

“Please, let me explain. She hasn’t shared anything except that she wants to run a story on you. I know nothing—”

“Stop talking, Carl.” I raise my gun and point it at him, using the tip of the barrel to force his chin upward. “It doesn’t matter if you know about her story or if you have her files. You authorized her to run with it, which means in a matter of days, some of your editors will know. That is enough of a threat to break our agreement. You understand, this is just business. Right?”

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