Page 55 of Bastard Prince
“Shit,” Francesca, spat, the rage clear on her face. “It’s absolutely revolting, but I can see that it makes sense.” I frowned at her, and she continued. “Think about it; what makes more money than any illegal industry out there right now? Human trafficking. But with new technologies like facial recognition and all that, it’s getting harder and harder for the rings to last for any substantial amount of time. The players always get caught. But this way, the people bringing in the victims are different every time. It’s a twisted kind of genius, really.” She flexed the hand that still held her gun. “I fucking hate it.”
There was a dark chuckle from behind us, the guy with the neck tattoo clearly amused by my wife.
“Well done, little mafiosa,” he taunted. “You figured it out. Faster than I expected, too.” Staring at him, I could see he was agitated, his hands flexing and his shoulders bunching as he struggled against his own zip ties. “Doesn’t matter what you know, though. You’ll never stop him. He’s too good. Too smart. Too vicious.”
“Stop who?” Francesca asked, sauntering over to stand in front of him. “The Chemist? That’s who is behind all this shit?”
The glare he leveled on Francesca would have sent any other woman fleeing. As it was, Willow, still huddled in the corner behind Trick, gave a soft gasp.
But Francesca just glared right back, standing tall as she looked him in the eye, unflinching.
“Sounds to me like the guy’s a coward. Can’t even show his face, sending innocent people to do his dirty work. Not really someone I’d be afraid of, to tell you the truth.”
“You’ll be singing a different tune when it’s you he’s got on the auction block.” He dropped his gaze down her body, licking his lips as he leered. “I might even sample the merchandise myself. You look like you’d put up just the right amount of fight, and I do love it when they squeal.”
“Over my dead body,” I snarled, drawing his attention from Francesca, which released the tension in my chest.
No one was going to touch her.
No one.
“He’s coming for you,” neck-tattoo said menacingly. “He’s coming for all of you. You think you’re safe, with your bunkers and your clubs and your money, but none of that will matter when he decides to—”
BANG
The gunshot echoed around the room, the thick concrete walls tossing the sound back at us as we all stared in shock at the hole Francesca had just blown in that dick’s shoulder. Willow was crying in earnest now, and Sway was staring open-mouthed at Francesca, shocked for sure, but I could see the admiration on his face as well.
Yeah, you and me both, kid.
“What?” Francesca asked when she noticed us all staring. “That idiot isn’t gonna tell us anything worthwhile. He was too busy monologuing like some kind of super villain. Ugh,” she shuddered. “What a douche. And most likely a rapist, too. I would be doing the world a favor if I killed him.”
The dick in question was screaming, hollering about how he was going to kill us all, like he wasn’t tied to a chair and out numbered six to one.
Francesca casually tucked the gun back into her jeans, pulling her leather jacket down again and then smiled at me.
“So, who’s hungry? I’m kind of craving tacos.”
“I don’t know whether I’m confused, scared, or turned on,” said Trick, smiling. He couldn’t see it, but the scowl he received from Willow behind his back was enough to flay him.
“You better be just scared,” Francesca answered, heading for the door. “You.” She turned and pointed to Willow. “You wanna get outta here? I could use a margarita or three.”
Willow stared from Francesca to me and back again, before she finally looked at Trick. He was giving her a cocky smirk but gestured for her to go ahead. Moving slowly, Willow tottered past the screaming mess that was neck-tattoo, doing her best not to look in his direction, and made her way to the door.
“Stay outta trouble, doll,” Trick called after her. “I’ll be watching you.” Willow only scowled.
“I could use a drink myself,” Sway said, heading toward Frankie.
“I don’t think so, punk,” I said, grabbing him by the arm. “You wanna play with the big boys, you’re gonna earn it.” I jerked my head to where Andy and the skinny guy were still seated, Andy cradling his face and the other one looking like he’d pissed his pants.
Fuck, I hated it when they did that.
“Those two need to be taken care of.” Andy started sobbing again.
“Enzo,” Francesca gasped. “Sway is only sixteen. Can we at least work him up to murder?”
“I don’t mean kill them, babe. I need them alive. How else are they going to spread the word that I am not to be fucked with.” I moved over to her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her to me. “And apparently, neither are you.” She leaned up and planted one of those kisses under my jaw.
“That’s right,” Sway barked. “No one messes with Frankie the Wolf.”
