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Katarina
Ipucker my perfectly lined, deep red lips one last time before sliding a pair of Chanel sunglasses onto my nose. It’s cloudy outside. There’s not one sliver of sunshine peeking through the overcast sky, but they preserve my anonymity.
Temporarily, until I decide it’s time for my identity to be known.
Nobody ever sees it coming.
Fucking idiots.
They think they can get away with not paying their debts. They think they can get away with the lying, cheating, and stealing.
They never remember that someone always comes to collect.
And it never ends well for the ones who violate the rules.
I step out of my gleaming black Maserati…well, it’s not mine, but one of our fleet. It has no trace whatsoever to me or my father with its Pennsylvania plates. It’s registered to one of our shell companies, and ownership of said company is in the sole paws of Stoli, my beloved and deceased chocolate lab.
I smooth down the hair of my blonde wig. The waves cascade down my back, over the ivory trench coat that covers my tight black dress. I adjust the sunglasses with one manicured hand and my Jimmy Choo stilettos click and clack along the pavement outside of the nondescript building down in the Diamond District in lower Manhattan.
It’s after hours, so the streets in the surrounding area are pretty much deserted. The city clears out once the workday ends, and this area is no exception.
Except if you have a private appointment, which I do. A smile plays at my lips when I ring the bell.
He’s expecting me.
But I can guarantee he’s not anticipating what’s about to enter his domain.
A large security guard comes to the door and unlatches it to allow me entry.
Stupid motherfucker.
I could be anyone.
Literally.
I step inside, my heels sinking into the carpet. My red lips curl upward as I regard the beefy security guard. Ian Raines should have kept two guards on duty tonight, just for good measure.
He is such a cheap bastard.
Ironic that it’s gonna cost him a hell of a lot more than the regular time and a half for his security detail.
The guard doesn’t speak to me. He just stands there, trying to look menacing. I flash a smile in his direction, and he doesn’t even blink in response.
He’ll be sorry he wasn’t nicer to me.
I step into the dimly lit space, eyeing the jewelry casings lining the walls. Raines doesn’t keep much on display. He has most of the prized items safely locked up in a back viewing room.
A room reserved for his best customers.
He thinks he’s going to make a killing back there.
He has no idea that it will be the other way around.
Raines appears a few moments later, a sly smile on his face when he sees me. “Ms. Blake. Such a pleasure to see you.”
I offer him my hand, and he brushes his lips against it. I fight the urge to break his wrist and pummel him into the middle of next week.
Rage issues. They never really subsided over the past eight years. I think they’ve gotten worse, actually.